CHAPTER 36: MY FIRST REAL PAYCHECK

For the first time in my life, I was building something that belonged entirely to me.

My desk was covered with fabric samples, colour charts, sketches, and photographs of rooms I had spent weeks studying. A half-empty cup of coffee sat beside my laptop, and my notebook was filled with measurements and ideas. I had deadlines to meet, clients to impress, and mistakes I could no longer afford to make. It was exhausting, but every difficult day reminded me why I had started.

I wanted to become an interior designer. Not someone's girlfriend, not the woman who had once lived in a billionaire's mansion, and certainly not someone whose success depended on a powerful man's name. I wanted to earn my place.

The small project Ethan had given me was finished, but the work had not been easy. I had spent evenings correcting measurements, searching for affordable materials, and changing the layout after the client decided the original plan did not suit their needs. There were moments when I doubted myself, especially when I compared my work to designs created by people who had been in the industry for years. Still, I kept going.

On Thursday morning, Ethan called.

"Amelia, I've got good news."

I sat up straighter at my desk. "That sounds promising."

"The client approved the final design. They loved the changes you made to the living area, and they've confirmed the payment."

For a moment, I didn't speak. "They have?"

"Yes. The money should reach your account today. And before you ask, no, I didn't have to convince them. They were happy with your work."

A smile spread across my face. "Thank you, Ethan. I really appreciate the opportunity."

"You earned it. Remember that."

After the call, I opened my banking app. I had checked it several times that morning, pretending I wasn't waiting. When I saw the payment notification, I stared at the screen for a few seconds.

It was there.

My first proper payment for a design project I had completed independently.

The amount wasn't enormous. It wouldn't buy a luxury car or change my family's life overnight. But I had earned every penny. I had spent hours working, listening, learning, making corrections, and finding solutions. Nobody had handed it to me because of a contract or a personal connection.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling my eyes grow warm. I thought about the months when every bill had felt like a threat, when I had worried about my mother's treatment and Daniel's future, when accepting help had sometimes felt like losing control of my own life. I thought about the woman who had entered Alexander Blackwood's mansion believing she had no other choice.

I wished I could tell that version of myself that things would get better.

Not because someone powerful would rescue her, but because she would learn to stand on her own.

That evening, I bought a small chocolate cake from the bakery near our apartment. When I walked through the door, Daniel was sitting on the sofa with his schoolbooks open, while my mother was sorting through a pile of laundry.

"What's that?" Daniel asked, looking at the box in my hands.

"Something to celebrate."

He immediately closed his textbook. "Did you win the lottery?"

"Not quite."

I placed the cake on the kitchen table and told them about the payment. My mother listened quietly, her face slowly brightening. Daniel jumped up and gave me a hug.

"My sister, the famous designer!" he announced. "I'll need an appointment when you become rich."

"Don't get too comfortable. I might charge you."

My mother laughed, then reached across the table and took my hand. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

Those simple words meant more than she probably realised. I had wanted to make her proud for so long, but lately I had been learning that I also needed to be proud of myself.

We ate cake together, laughing about Daniel's terrible predictions for my future celebrity lifestyle. It was a small celebration, but it felt bigger than any expensive dinner I could remember.

Later that night, my phone lit up with a message from Alexander.

Ethan mentioned that your project was approved. Congratulations, Amelia. I know how hard you've worked for this.

I smiled before replying.

Thank you. I received the payment today.

His response came a moment later.

Then I hope you celebrated properly.

Chocolate cake with my family. Nothing fancy.

That sounds better than most celebrations I've attended.

I laughed softly.

A second message appeared.

Would you let me take you out this weekend? Somewhere simple. I'd like to celebrate your achievement with you, if you'd enjoy that.

I appreciated that he had asked instead of making arrangements. He hadn't offered to buy me a gift or turn my achievement into another grand gesture.

I'd like that, I replied. But I'm choosing the place.

I wouldn't expect anything else.

I put my phone down, feeling a quiet warmth in my chest. It was a small exchange, but it reminded me of something important. Alexander was learning to let me have my own moments without trying to become the centre of them.

The next morning, Ethan asked me to come to his office. I expected another discussion about the smaller project, but when I arrived, he had a folder waiting on his desk.

"I want to tell you about an opportunity," he said.

I sat opposite him. "What kind of opportunity?"

"A major renovation and interior design project. A corporate client is looking to redesign several areas of a new business development centre. Reception spaces, meeting rooms, shared work areas, and a few executive facilities."

My eyes moved to the folder. "That sounds much bigger than my last project."

"It is. And they're inviting several design firms and independent designers to submit proposals."

"Independent designers too?"

"Yes. But don't get too excited just yet. There's a competitive selection process. You'll need to submit a concept, a detailed design proposal, a budget, and a presentation explaining your choices. They'll assess everything before deciding who gets the contract."

I opened the folder. The requirements were detailed, and the deadline was tight. It would take weeks of research, planning, and careful preparation.

"Do you think I'm ready?" I asked.

Ethan leaned back. "I think you have the ability. But I won't tell you it's going to be easy. You'll be competing against experienced teams with bigger portfolios."

I looked down at the documents again. A part of me wanted to close the folder and walk away before I could fail. But another part, the part that had worked through every difficult night, refused to give in.

"I want to try."

"Good. That's what I was hoping you'd say."

He explained that the client would evaluate each proposal independently. No one would receive special treatment, and the final decision would be based on the quality of the work, the budget, and the team's ability to deliver.

I left his office carrying the folder against my chest. For the rest of the afternoon, I studied the brief, made notes, and began thinking about how I could create a space that felt professional without becoming cold or intimidating.

Then I reached the section containing the client's details.

I stopped.

The company name was printed in bold letters across the top of the page.

BLACKWOOD INTERNATIONAL.

I read it again, hoping I had misunderstood.

But there was no mistake. The proposed renovation involved one of Blackwood International's business development centres, and the selection process was being managed by an external design committee.

My stomach tightened.

Alexander had nothing to do with the opportunity, as far as I knew. Ethan had brought it to me because of my work, and the selection process was competitive. Still, the connection was impossible to ignore.

People would talk if I won. They might assume Alexander had arranged everything. They might question whether my designs were good enough or whether his influence had opened a door that would otherwise have remained closed.

I didn't want that.

I wanted to stand in front of a client and know they had chosen my work because they believed in my ability. I didn't want my relationship with Alexander to become a shadow over everything I had worked so hard to build.

I closed the folder and stared at my phone.

For a few minutes, I considered waiting until I had more information. But Alexander deserved to know that his company had appeared in my professional life, and I needed to be clear about my concerns before anything moved forward.

I called him.

He answered after the second ring. "Amelia?"

"Are you busy?"

"Not anymore. What's happened?"

I looked at the Blackwood International logo on the folder and took a breath.

"I've received the details of a major design opportunity. It's a competitive project, and I really want to be considered."

"That's wonderful. What's the project?"

I hesitated, then looked at the name printed on the page once more.

"Alexander, I think your company has just become my biggest professional challenge."