Aurelia reached home within twenty minutes, though the storm outside showed no sign of slowing.
Thunder rolled across the sky as she unlocked the gate and stepped inside her small house.
"The weather forecast should resign from their jobs," she muttered, shaking the rain from her coat. "First they promise sunshine, then they send a storm."
She pushed open the front door and turned on the lights.
Her home wasn't luxurious or carefully decorated. It was simple—just a small living room, a couch, a wooden table, and shelves lined with law books. But it was enough. Comfortable. Quiet.
Safe.
She dropped her bag onto the couch and headed straight to her room to shower.
Warm water washed away the cold from the rain, but it did nothing to quiet the thoughts spinning in her mind.
Who was that man?
She sat on the edge of her bed afterward, dressed in soft pajamas, drying her hair with a towel.
"What if he was some gang leader or something?" she murmured to herself.
Then she immediately groaned.
"No, Aurelia. Stop watching crime movies."
Talking to herself had always been a habit—especially after unusual days.
And today had been very unusual.
After a few minutes she returned to the living room to organize the mess she had brought in.
She opened her bag and began placing things back in their usual spots.
"Keys on the hook. Water bottle on the dining table. Phone…"
Her phone blinked weakly with 6% battery.
"Right on time."
She plugged it into the charger and stretched her shoulders.
"Done."
But as she reached back into her bag again, her stomach suddenly dropped.
Her purse.
Her blue wallet was missing.
"What—?"
She emptied the bag onto the couch, checking every pocket.
Nothing.
"Oh no… no, no, no."
Her heartbeat quickened.
"I must've dropped it at the bus stop."
Inside that wallet were all her IDs, her cards, everything.
And worst of all—
Her address.
"i mean this is crazy. shesh ! uhgh great"
Without wasting another second, she grabbed her raincoat, stuffed some cash into her pocket, and rushed back out into the storm.
The bus stop was still nearly empty when she arrived fifteen minutes later.
Rain dripped from the metal roof as she searched the ground nervously.
For five long minutes she checked every corner.
Then—
Under the bench.
Her blue wallet.
Aurelia rushed forward and picked it up.
"Ohh Thank God," she breathed.
Relief washed over her as she hurried back home through the rain.
Back in the house, she placed the wallet carefully on the table before changing into fresh night clothes.
Her phone was still charging.
Curious—and slightly paranoid—she sat on the couch and opened the wallet to check if everything was still there.
"All right," she murmured. "Let's see if everything's safe."
Her IDs.
Her cards.
Everything looked untouched.
But something else was inside.
A small folded note.
Aurelia frowned slightly and unfolded it.
The handwriting was neat and confident.
Hi Aurelia.
If you're reading this, congratulations on getting your wallet back.
I'm the man you crashed into at the bus stop—the tall man in the black suit.
My name is Vincent.
Aurelia blinked.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Wait…Huh? what?"
She reread the note again.
"How cheesy man , i don't think he was a gang leader or something dangerous," she murmured, though a small smile appeared on her face.
"Just Vincent? No number, no details? Crazy dude"
She leaned back against the couch.
"And I didn't even see his face properly in that rain."
Her fingers tapped lightly against the note.
"Still… it was kind of him to keep the wallet under the bench. gentleman kinda"
For a moment she wondered if she would ever see him again.
Then she shook her head.
"California has millions of people, Aurelia. Relax. You can't like him while just knowing his first name"
But strangely enough, the thought lingered in her mind longer than she expected.
Across the city, someone else was thinking about the same rainy encounter.
Vincent Montclair stood near the large windows of his family estate, staring absently into the night.
"Aurelia Vale," he murmured quietly.
"Vincent! Vincent!"
The sharp voice behind him pulled him back to reality.
He turned.
His father stood in the doorway.
"Come downstairs," the man said. "I need to speak with you."
Vincent followed him to the study.
The room was lined with shelves of legal books and awards—the legacy of the Montclair Empire.
One of the most powerful legal networks in California.
His father sat behind the large oak desk.
"The bar exam results will be released in a few weeks," Mr. Montclair said. "New advocates will start applying to our firms."
Vincent nodded.
"And?"
"I want you to lead the interviews this year."
Vincent raised an eyebrow slightly.
"All of them?"
"For every firm under our network."
That meant thousands of applicants.
Vincent thought for a moment before replying calmly.
"Fine," he said. "But if I accept or reject someone, you don't question my decisions."
His father smiled faintly.
"I never question your judgment, my son."
Vincent nodded once.
"Good."
But as he walked back upstairs, one thought returned to his mind again.
A girl in the rain.
A girl named Aurelia Vale.
And somewhere deep down, he had the strange feeling that their paths were far from finished.