Eliza stared at the man across the counter. He was smiling at her, but it wasn't the creepy smile of the late-night drunks or the condescending smirk of the businessmen who treated her like a vending machine. It was... curious. Like he was looking at a puzzle he couldn’t wait to solve.
"A proposal?" Eliza asked, wiping her hands on her stained green apron. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Look, mister, if this is some kind of weird prank for your friend over there in the velvet booth, you can forget it. I’ve got three hours left on my shift and a bus to catch."
"It’s no prank, Eliza," Henry said. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum. "I’m a coach. I help people find the power in their own voices. I’ve seen CEOs lose millions because they couldn't command a room, and I've seen nobodies become legends because they knew exactly how to speak."
He gestured to the room around them. "You’re working three jobs. You’re exhausted. You have a fire in you, but when you speak, people only see the smoke. They don't see you."
Eliza felt a sharp prickle of defensiveness. "There’s nothing wrong with my voice. It’s the voice of my mother, and her mother before her. It’s got us through plenty."
"It’s a shield," Henry countered gently. "And a good one. But wouldn't you like to have a sword? Wouldn't you like to walk into a room—any room—and have people listen because you sound like someone they cannot ignore?"
He laid a card on the counter. It was heavy, cream-colored cardstock with embossed gold lettering: HENRY HIGGINS – LINGUISTIC CONSULTANCY.
"Six months," Henry said. "I’ll pay you double what you make here. I’ll provide the wardrobe, the books, and the training. In return, you give me your time and your dedication. At the end of it, you’ll speak at the Winter Gala. After that? You’ll have the skills to get a job anywhere in this city. A real job. Not one that smells like burnt milk and floor cleaner."
Eliza looked at the card, then at Pickering, who was watching them with a skeptical, amused expression. She thought about her rent. She thought about her worn-out shoes. She thought about the way the "Hill" girls looked at her when they ordered their pumpkin spice lattes—like she was part of the machinery.
"And what do you get out of it?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "Guys like you don't do nothing for free."
Henry hesitated. The image of Pickering’s smug face and the "Bet" flashed through his mind. He hated lying, but he knew if he told her she was the subject of a wager, she’d throw a carafe of hot coffee in his face.
"I get to prove a point," Henry said, and it was the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. "I want to show this city that the only difference between a girl from the docks and a lady in a penthouse is the opportunity to be heard."
Eliza picked up the card. The gold letters caught the fluorescent light. For the first time in her life, someone wasn't telling her to work harder; they were telling her she was worth more.
"Double the pay?" she asked.
"And a bonus if you win over the crowd at the Gala," Henry added.
Eliza took a deep breath. She looked at the espresso machine, the dirty tables, and the gray dawn beginning to streak the sky outside. This was her "recipe." It was old, it was bitter, and it was familiar. But Henry Higgins was offering her a new one.
"Fine," she said, tucking the card into her bra for safekeeping. "But I’m telling you now, Professor—I’m a fast learner, but I don't take kindly to being pushed around."
Henry laughed, a bright, genuine sound. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Come to the address on the card tomorrow at ten. Bring your fire, Eliza. We're going to need it."
As Eliza watched them walk out into the cold morning air, she didn't see the way Pickering patted Henry on the back. She didn't hear him whisper, "You've got your work cut out for you, Henry. She's a wild one."
She only felt the weight of the card against her heart.
This was the "Departure." She was leaving the world she knew for a world she couldn't even imagine. She didn't know that the "sword" Henry was giving her would eventually cut them both.
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