ログインEmilia’s POV Saturday morning found me at the breakfast table with a cup of tea and a notepad, scribbling an embarrassingly chaotic list that read blazers, trousers, shoes that don’t scream “wedding guest,” only confidence. I was halfway through crossing out confidence as if it could be bought when Slade walked in.He glanced at the notepad. Then at me.You’re planning a takeover?”“I’m planning survival,” I replied. “Apparently, junior designers are expected to look like they know what they’re doing.”He took the seat across from me, calm as ever. “You’ll be fine.”“I have exactly three dresses that qualify as ‘professional,’” I said. “And two of them are aggressively optimistic.”His brow lifted. “Optimistic?”“ Yeah bright,floral and possibly delusional.”“Hmm get dressed.”I narrowed my eyes. “That sounded ominous.”“Shopping,” he said simply. “Corporate wear. Today.”I laughed. “You realize that sentence is terrifying.”“You’ll thank me later.”By noon, I was standing in a bou
Ariana’s POVI didn’t tell Slade immediately but I only waited for the adrenaline to wear off a bit.By late afternoon, the house had shifted into its evening rhythm with staff moving with quieter steps. I heard Slade’s voice carried again with a measured and authoritative voice and it sounded like he was negotiating something that probably involved numbers large enough to make my head hurt.I changed out of my robe and into something simple with just jeans and a soft top. Nothing that screamed I just got hired by a luxury fashion house, but nothing that whispered I might cry if you ask me how my day was either.I found him in the study.He stood near the window with his phone pressed to his ear, posture straight and his gaze focused on the darkening sky beyond the glass. He ended the call the moment he noticed me.“Everything alright?” he asked, immediately attentive.“Yes,” I said. Then paused. “Actually… more than alright.”That got his full attention.He turned fully toward me, b
Ariana’s POVBy morning the sunlight sliced through the curtains like it had a personal grudge. My alarm decided today was the day to be extra dramatic.I groaned into my pillow.For a second, I forgot about the jobs, interviews,my rejection emails, and dignity-bartering managers Arghhh. I just lay there, wrapped in sheets and stubborn hope that maybe, just maybe, I’d dream another thirty minutes into existence.Then reality caught up.Yesterday I decided to try again one last time..I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.“Well,” I whispered, “if destiny is still playing games, I’m at least showing up with snacks.”I showered, dressed, and drifted downstairs. The mansion was strangely peaceful as few staff moved quietly. Somewhere deeper inside the house, I heard the echo of Slade’s cool and clipped voice.I avoided that direction entirely.Entering the kitchen it smelled like coffee and toasted bread. I poured myself a mug, trying to appear like a functioning adult and not
Ariana’s POVThere should be a medal for people who fill out online job applications without throwing their laptop through a window. If there isn’t, I’m starting a campaign.That morning, I sat hunched over the kitchen island, half-awake with my hair tied in the kind of bun that said I’ve accepted my fate, staring at a form that asked the same questions my résumé already answered.“List prior experience.”I typed.“Upload résumé.”I uploaded it.“Briefly summarize prior experience.”I stared at the screen.“I already told you,” I murmured to the form. “We’ve been over this. We had a whole conversation.”The form remained unmoved and soulless, as expected.Slade walked in, crisp, composed, smelling like expensive confidence and freshly brewed control. He paused, eyes flicking from my laptop to the cereal bowl in front of me.“You’re eating cornflakes,” he said like this was a surprising character development.“They don’t judge me,” I replied. “Unlike some digital systems that think rep
Ariana’s POVRejection doesn’t always come with thunder.Sometimes, it arrives quietly folded into polite sentences, dressed in professional courtesy and delivered with a smile.“Thank you so much for coming in, but we’ve decided to move forward with candidates whose backgrounds more closely align with our needs.”The woman across the table said the words gently, as if softness could erase finality.I nodded, smiling like it didn’t sting. “Of course. Thank you for the opportunity.”We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. I walked out of the glass building with my head high and my lungs tight.Outside, the city felt louder than usual. Cars honked. A bus rumbled by. A woman laughed into her phone. Life went on.I sat on the bench near the entrance, counted three breaths, and reminded myself:First interviews rarely work.You learn. You adjust.You keep moving.I tucked the rejection into that space inside me where determination now lived.The second interview came two days later.Th
Ariana’s POVThe next morning, the decision didn’t hit like lightning.It arrived quietly like the way dawn creeps into a room, touching the curtains before it touches your face.I woke before the mansion, before footsteps and murmured voices, before the engine hums of security making their rounds. For a moment, I stared at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar weight of dread, nausea, uncertainty.Instead, there was a different kind of weight.Purpose. Thin but present. A thread I could follow.I slipped out of bed, wrapped myself in a robe, and sat at the vanity with my phone. The screen glowed back at me, blank and accusing, as if reminding me how much of my life I had allowed other people to organize for me.Well not anymore.I opened a browser and typed slowly.Administrative assistant jobs near me.The listings loaded, a flood of titles and salaries and expectations. My chest tightened not with fear, but with something dangerously close to excitement.I clicked one.Then another







