*Who's My Eternal*
*Saturday — 9:58 AM*
Elian stared at the black card.
_Arthur Harkwell_
Hands sweating.
He dialed.
One ring.
"Mr. Harkwell's office."
"Uh— hi. This is Elian Eldridge. He… he told me to call."
"Ah, Mr. Eldridge. One moment."
Click.
Then: "Elian." Deep voice. No nonsense. "Be at 1445 Belmont Avenue. 1 PM sharp. Ask for me at the gate."
"Yes, sir."
Line went dead.
*1 PM — 1445 Belmont Avenue*
It wasn't a house.
It was a _mansion_.
Stone. Gates. Security. Bodyguards with earpieces.
Elian felt his cheap suit itch more.
He gave his name at the gate.
The guard nodded. "Right this way, sir."
_Sir._
Led him through. Marble floors. Art on walls. Quiet money.
Mr. Harkwell waited in a study. Fireplace. Books. No desk — just two chairs.
"Mr. Eldridge," he said. Stood. Shook his hand. Firm. "Sit."
Elian sat. Back straight. Like Lola taught him.
Mr. Harkwell studied him.
"You saved my life," he said. No small talk. "Why?"
Elian blinked. "Sir?"
"On the street. You didn't know me. I had nothing to give you. Why stop?"
Elian thought. Then shrugged. "You were dying. Seemed wrong to keep walking."
Mr. Harkwell's mouth twitched. Almost a smile.
"Where are you living?"
"Hotel, sir. By the station. Just got here from the Philippines. Few days before I… found you."
"Family?"
"My lola. She raised me."
"Job?"
"None yet. Tried to apply at your company. Marketing. Was full."
Mr. Harkwell nodded. Sipped tea. Didn't offer Elian any.
"Do you know who I am, Mr. Eldridge?"
"You own Harkwell Holdings. The building I fell in."
"I own half of Vancouver," Mr. Harkwell said. Flat. "Shipping. Tech. Real estate. My wife died five years ago. My son lives in Philippine,I have no one in this house but staff."
He set the cup down.
"I had a heart attack on Robson because I forgot my pills. Because I'm old. Because I thought I was invincible."
He looked at Elian.
"Then a boy from the Philippines holds my hand and calls me _sir_ like I'm still a man, not a stock price."
Silence.
Then: "I'm going to give you something great, Elian. But I don't trust easily. I want to know you."
He leaned forward.
"Move in here. Live with me. I'll pay you for your time. You'll have a room. Meals. Access. Learn the business. See if you're worth investing in."
Elian's heart stopped.
"Sir, I can't—"
"You can," Mr. Harkwell said. "And you will."
Elian shook his head. "I appreciate it, really. But I can't take your money to live here. I'm not— I'm not a charity case. I have money.. I can rent—"
Mr. Harkwell held up a hand.
"Elian," he said. Voice softer now. "Let me tell you something about opportunities."
Elian shut up.
"They don't knock twice," Mr. Harkwell said. "And it is not good to reject them out of pride. Pride doesn't pay rent. Pride doesn't build futures."
He stood. Walked to the window.
"I was once a boy on a dock in Nova Scotia. No shoes. My father was a fisherman. A man gave me a job because I helped him carry a crate. Didn't pay me much. But he let me sleep in the warehouse. Taught me shipping."
He turned.
"I am here because I said yes."
He looked at Elian.
"So I'll ask once more. Move in. Let me see what kind of man saved me. If you're wrong for this, I'll know in a week. If you're right… I'll change your life."
Elian's throat was dry.
He thought of Cherry. _Go build a new life._
Thought of Lola. _Some people love you in the dirt._
Thought of Cindy. _Servant boy._
And he thought of this man. Alone in a mansion. Asking him to stay.
Elian stood.
"Okay," he said. "I'll stay, sir. But I work. I don't just… live here. Give me something to do."
Mr. Harkwell smiled. First real one.
"Deal," he said. Held out his hand.
Elian shook it.
*Hotel Room — Vancouver, 6:30 PM*
Elian dropped his bag on the bed.
Still wearing the cheap suit. Still holding Mr. Harkwell's card like it might disappear.
Room was small. Plain. Nothing like Belmont Avenue.
He pulled out his phone.
*Text to Cherry, 3:12 PM*
*Elian:* _Pink. I'm moving into a mansion._
*Elian:* _With the old man I saved. His name's Arthur Harkwell._
*Elian:* _He wants to give me "something great"._
*Cherry:* _ELIAN ELDRIDGE_
*Cherry:* _DID YOU JOIN THE MAFIA_
*Cherry:* _ARE YOU SAFE_
*Cherry:* _CALL ME RIGHT NOW YOU IDIOT_
Elian laughed.
Video call.
One ring.
Cherry picked up. Face messy. Hair in a bun. Probably fresh from the bay.
"ELIAN ELDRIDGE," she yelled. No hello. "EXPLAIN. NOW."
Elian grinned. Leaned back on the headboard. "Hi to you too, Pink."
"Don't _Pink_ me," Cherry said. Squinting at the screen. "Are you in a cult? Is this human trafficking? Did you—"
"I'm in my hotel," Elian laughed. Flipped the camera. Showed her the beige walls. The tiny TV. "See? No mafia dungeon. Very boring."
She didn't laugh. "Elian. Be serious. A rich old man wants you to move in? That's how every crime documentary starts."
"He's not mafia, Cherry."
"How do you know?" She crossed her arms. "Did he say 'I'm not mafia'? Because that's what mafia would say."
Elian snorted. "He has bodyguards and a mansion, yes. But he also has tea and a fireplace and books about ships. Mafia guys read _what_, _How To Commit Crimes For Dummies_?"
"Not funny," Cherry said. But she was fighting a smile. "You don't know him. What if he—"
"What if he gives me a job?" Elian cut in. Softer now. "What if this is it, Cherry? What if this is the _something great_ you told me to go find?"
Cherry went quiet.
On screen, he saw her bite her lip. Worried.
"I just…" she said. "I don't want you getting hurt. Or used. You're too… you."
"Too what?" Elian teased. Held the phone closer. "Too handsome? Too smart? Too—"
"Too _stupid_," Cherry said. Rolled her eyes. "Too trusting. You helped him because he was dying. What if he's helping you because he wants something?"
Elian's smile faded a little.
she is really worried
"I know," he said. Honest now. "But I can tell, Cherry. He doesn't look at me like Cindy did. Like I'm _below_. He looks at me like… like Lola does when she thinks I did good."
He shrugged.
"He's just a man with money. Lonely. And I saved him. Maybe that's all it is."
Cherry stared at him through the screen.
Then sighed. Big. Dramatic. "Fine. But you call me every day. And if he tries to make you wear a tux and carry a briefcase with drugs, you run."
"Deal," Elian said. Grinned. "No drug briefcases."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Pause.
"...you look good in a suit," Cherry mumbled. Looked away.
Elian blinked. Then smirked. "Cherry Pink, was that a compliment?"
"Shut up," she said. Face red. "It's itchy. You look uncomfortable. That's all."
"Liar," Elian said. Still smirking. "You like me in a suit."
"I will hang up—"
"Don't," he said. Fast. Smile soft now. "Stay. Talk to me. It's quiet here."
Cherry softened.
Nodded.
And stayed.
For two hours.
Talking about nothing. About the bay. About Lola Anna's new crochet project. About how Noa stopped by Cherry's house and didn't mention Cindy once.
Not about diamonds.
Not about mansions.
Not about the 10,000 miles between them.
Just them.
Like always.
Before he hung up, Cherry said: "Elian?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful. But… be brave too. Okay?"
Elian looked at Mr. Harkwell's card on the nightstand.
"Okay, Pink," he said.
"I told you not to call me—"
"Goodnight, Cherry."
She huffed.
Then: "...goodnight, stupid."
Call ended.
Elian laid there.
Hotel room.
Mansion invite.
Girl on the other side of the world telling him to be brave.
He wasn't scared.
For the first time in his life,