Chapter 1
Emily Warren, the girl who sat in front of me in homeroom, was about to get kicked out. She couldn't afford the tuition, and our teacher had given her an ultimatum.
So I did something. Without a word to her, I raided the account my parents had been building for ten years. It was my entire college fund, exactly 40,000 dollars, but I handed it over to cover her tuition.
On graduation day, she was just gone. All she left was a note on my desk, which promised she would pay me back.
Thirteen years went by. I was three months unemployed, drowning in debt. Two hundred resumes later, I finally landed a single interview at Stellar Holdings.
The conference room door swung open, and a woman strode in like she owned the building. She wore a high-end designer suit that probably cost more than a car.
My palms were instantly slick with sweat.
It was Emily.
She gave my resume a clinical scan, but then she paused, her gaze lifting from the page. Turning to the hiring director beside her, she said calmly, "I'll be handling this interview personally."
*****
I shoved the door open.
A blast of icy air from the conference room hit me square in the face.
At the far end of a long table, two men were already seated.
One was Paul Lewis, the director of human resources, a man in his fifties whose hair was slicked back with too much gel. His expensive sleeves were cuffed to the elbows.
Next to him sat my competitor in a perfectly tailored suit, a thirty-something with gold-rimmed glasses.
I took the empty seat across from them.
Paul shoved my resume to the side without a second glance and drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
"Alex Chapman," he said.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Thirty-five. Unemployed for three months. Last gig was admin at some no-name company."
He shot me a look after each damning fact.
"You sent out over two hundred applications, right?"
I stayed silent.
He let out a short laugh and leaned back, the leather of his chair groaning in protest.
"Do you have any idea what kind of company this is, Alex?"
"Yeah. Stellar Holdings. You're the top dog in the industry."
"Glad we're on the same page," he said.
He picked up the other resume, waving it like a winning lottery ticket.
"This gentleman, on the other hand, has a master's from overseas. His last company was our direct competitor, and he's coming to us with a full roster of industry connections."
The guy in the glasses offered me a polite nod, a confident smirk playing on his lips.
Paul looked at me with the silent amusement of a man watching a clown perform.
"So, what's your edge? What do you bring to the table?" he asked.
My throat felt like sandpaper.
"I'm reliable and patient. I'm good at handling the complicated stuff."
"Reliable?" Paul echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
He burst out laughing.
"Is that what you call seven jobs in thirteen years? Alex, this is a multi-billion dollar corporation, not a shelter for lost souls."
Under the table, my hands balled into fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they stung.
Just then, the conference room door swung open.
The crisp click-clack of high heels on marble echoed through the silence.
A woman strode in.
She was wearing a bespoke black suit, her long hair swept back into an elegant bun.
She moved like a newly sharpened blade, radiating icy confidence.
Paul and the guy in glasses shot to their feet. "Ms. Warren," they said together with deference.
My mind went completely blank.
It felt like my blood had turned to slush in my veins.
Thirteen years had passed, yet I still could recognize that face.
It was Emily Warren.
She ignored everyone, walking straight to the head of the table and taking her seat as if it were a throne.
Paul scurried over, handing her both resumes.
"Ms. Warren, these are our two finalists for today. This is..."
Emily raised a hand, cutting him off without a word.
Her gaze drifted slowly over the papers.
When her eyes landed on my resume, her fingers paused for a second.
It was so fast I almost thought I had imagined it.
I stared at her, unable to look away.
She didn't look up. Her face was an unreadable mask, as if she were reviewing a quarterly report.
My palms were slick with sweat.
My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard that I thought it might break through.
Thirteen years passed.
She had been gone for thirteen goddamn years.
And now, here she was, the president of this corporate empire, and I was the unemployed loser begging for a job.
Paul was still droning on, singing the praises of my competition's resume.
Suddenly, Emily set the paper down.
She looked up, and for the first time, her eyes met mine. They were calm, deep, and as bottomless as a frozen lake.
Then, she turned to Paul and calmly demanded, "I'll interview this one myself."