Billionaire's Obsession: Our Scarred Secrets

Cassandra Reed’s POV

“You cannot apply for a loan, Miss Cassandra.” The tenant in the money lending agency said. He seemed frustrated with my case and the way he said those words was filled with irritation. 

“What? Why can’t I?” I asked, for the tenth time on this day. 

“You see, we cannot lend any money to anyone. You must have a high-paying job running for at least three months.” He explained further. It just made me feel more stressed out. “Otherwise, we know you might be able to pay us.”

“I am about to lose my apartment,” I whispered. I cannot believe that they refuse to help a woman in distress right now. Isn’t the purpose of money lending to help people in need of finances? So why are they rejecting my plea? 

“I am sorry, ma’am. You may come back once you find a job. That way, we can help you and discuss what you should do.” He said. It is just utterly unbelievable how he never even considered it. 

“Are you seriously rejecting me now, are you?” I sighed. I can’t even use my face fard? I mean, I hear these men will most likely give in whenever they see a beautiful woman. I guess, he is not some simpering old employed man that is a slave to capitalism.

I rolled my eyes and picked up all my things. “Well, I guess, you are not as helpful as I thought.” 

“Wait, what–” 

I did not let the man finish his words. I went ahead of my errand and ditched his company. 

Ohh… I want to kick the pots and everything. How can he just let me go when he could have helped? 

I stormed out of the lending company's office, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement as I fought back tears of frustration. The rejection stung more than I had expected. Every "no" felt like a blow to my fragile hope, and today’s rejection had nearly shattered it. 

My mind raced as I tried to think of my next move. I had to find a job, any job, to secure the loan I desperately needed to save my apartment.

The sky was overcast, reflecting my mood as I hurried down the bustling streets of the city. My eyes scanned every "Help Wanted" sign with desperation, my heart sinking each time I realized I had already applied and been rejected from those places. 

With a deep breath, I set my sights on Sinclair Co., one of the largest firms in the city. I had heard they were hiring, and maybe, just maybe, this could be my chance.

As I approached the grand building, its glass facade reflecting the gloomy sky, I could feel my nerves tightening. I paused at a nearby coffee stand, hoping a hot drink might calm my jitters. The warmth of the coffee cup would provide a momentary comfort, a brief respite from the whirlwind of anxiety within me.

I stepped up to the counter and ordered a small coffee, counting my coins as I did. When the barista rang up my order, my heart sank. I was a dollar short.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I only have two dollars. Can you... can you spare me just this once?"

The barista, a young guy with kind eyes, glanced at the growing line behind me. He sighed, clearly torn. "I'm not supposed to," he started, but then he looked at me: my messy hair, the dark circles under my eyes, the desperate plea in my gaze.

"Please," I added, my voice cracking. "I've had the worst day, and I just need a break."

He hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded. "Alright, just this once," he said, sliding the coffee cup towards me. "But don't make a habit of it."

Relief washed over me, and I offered him a grateful smile. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The warmth of the coffee cup provided that brief respite I had been craving. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I had to keep it together. I had to keep moving forward.

Just as I took a sip, my thoughts miles away, I collided with something solid. Hot coffee splashed out of the cup, soaking the front of a tailored, expensive-looking coat. I gasped, looking up to see a man towering over me, his face twisted in fury.

"You clumsy fool!" he barked, his voice loud enough to attract the stares of passersby. "Do you have any idea how much this coat costs?"

My heart sank as I saw the damage. The coffee had left a large, unmistakable stain. "I-I'm so sorry," I stammered, my voice trembling. "I didn't see you... I was just... I'm so sorry."

Damn… the coffee I couldn’t even afford… 

"Sorry?" The man's eyes flashed with anger. "Sorry doesn't fix this. You'll have to pay for this, you know."

"I can't..." I started, my voice breaking. I felt tears welling up but blinked them back. "I can't afford to pay for it. I just lost my job, and I was on my way to an interview. Please, I didn't mean to—"

"Lost your job?" The man cut me off with a derisive snort. "And you think that's an excuse for being careless? People like you always have some sob story. Well, I'm not buying it. You're going to pay for this, one way or another."

My hands shook as I clutched the empty coffee cup. "Please, sir," I pleaded. "I'm about to lose my apartment. I've been looking for work for months. I... I can wash it for you, or... anything. But please don't make me pay for it. I don't have the money."

For a moment, the man's expression softened, a flicker of empathy crossing his features. But it was quickly replaced by a steely resolve. "Fine," he said curtly. "I'll let you go this time. But you'd better watch where you're going from now on. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

"Thank you, thank you so much," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. I kept repeating it, unable to stop myself. "Thank you."

"Cut it," he interrupted sharply. He reached into his pocket and handed me a business card. "Here."

I took the card with trembling hands and read the name printed in bold letters: "Nathaniel Sinclair, President of Sinclair Co." My stomach churned violently. The man I had spilled coffee on owned the company I was about to apply to.

I looked up at him, my mouth dry. "You're... you're the president?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "And I need a new secretary. You seem... eager enough."

I stared at him, my mind spinning. "You want me to be your secretary? Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke," he said, his expression unreadable. "Come by my office today at 9 AM. We'll discuss the details."

I blinked, struggling to process what was happening. "Are you sure? I mean, why would you hire me after... after this?"

Nathaniel glanced around, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because I see potential. And because sometimes, a little chaos brings about interesting opportunities." 

Is he serious? 

I felt like I was in a dream, unable to believe my luck. "Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. I... I don't know what to say."

"Save it for tomorrow," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" I blurted out, still not entirely convinced. "Are you serious? This isn't some kind of scam, is it?"

Nathaniel paused, looking mildly amused. "I assure you, Miss...?"

“Reed. I am Cassandra Reed.” I formally introduced myself. 

"I assure you, Miss Reed, this is no scam. Be at my office at 9 AM sharp."

I watched him disappear from my sight as he walked the path that would lead to the biggest company the city had ever seen. 

Am I really… employed now?