SNOWED IN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE

The eviction notice was thinner than Ellie Carter expected.

One page. No envelope. Just a white sheet folded once and pushed halfway under her apartment door, as if the building itself were embarrassed to deliver it.

FINAL NOTICE, it read at the top, bold and unforgiving.

Seven days.

Ellie stood barefoot on the cold tile floor, the paper trembling slightly between her fingers. The apartment smelled faintly of detergent and burnt toast—proof that life had been lived here, that effort had been made. Outside, the city moved on with its usual indifference, traffic flowing, people rushing to places that still wanted them.

Seven days until she officially had nowhere to go.

She lowered herself onto the edge of the couch, the cheap fabric creaking beneath her weight. Rent overdue. Utilities behind. Phone service hanging by a thread. Her laptop—her last real asset—sat on the coffee table, screen dark, emails unanswered, job applications dissolving into silence.

Ellie had done everything she was supposed to do.

She worked. She saved. She stayed careful. She didn’t gamble, didn’t lean on people, didn’t ask for help she couldn’t repay. And yet here she was, holding proof that discipline alone didn’t guarantee safety.

Her phone buzzed.

She flinched before she even looked.

Unknown Number.

Ellie let it ring once. Twice. Then stopped it with a swipe.

If it was a creditor, she wasn’t ready. If it was the landlord, she had nothing new to offer. And if it was sympathy dressed up as concern, she didn’t want that either.

She folded the eviction notice carefully and placed it on the counter beside her keys. Panic could wait. Panic wasted time. She had seven days—and today still mattered.

Ellie showered, dressed, and pulled her hair into a low, controlled bun. Her reflection looked composed, professional. No one would guess that her entire life was balanced on a deadline.

The address glowed on her phone screen:

Blackwood Group – Executive Offices

She had nearly laughed when the confirmation email arrived. A last-minute interview. No job title. No recruiter contact. Just a time, a floor, and a name.

Todd Blackwood.

Everyone in the corporate world knew that name.

Billionaire. CEO. Strategist. A man rumored to dismantle companies with a single boardroom conversation and rebuild them entirely under his control. He didn’t do charity. He didn’t do favors. He didn’t summon people without purpose.

Which meant Ellie was walking into something she didn’t understand.

But desperation had a way of making risk feel necessary.

The Blackwood Group tower rose clean and sharp against the skyline, all glass and authority. The kind of building that didn’t advertise its power because it didn’t need to.

Ellie adjusted her blazer as she approached the front desk. The receptionist glanced at her name on the tablet and nodded without comment.

“Top floor,” she said. “He’s expecting you.”

That alone tightened something in Ellie’s chest.

The elevator ride was silent, smooth, relentless. With every passing floor, her awareness sharpened—not fear, exactly, but the sensation of stepping onto a board where pieces were already moving.

The doors opened to a private corridor. One office. Dark wood. No nameplate.

She knocked.

“Come in.”