5. YOU’RE HIRED

🌹TESSA🌹

I had just found my son and there was no way I was walking away from him again.

The thought sat in my chest like a second heartbeat, steady and insistent, pushing against my ribs with every breath I took. Even if I only got to watch from afar. I would make do with that. I would stand in the shadows and memorize the curve of his jaw and the way he moved through the world and I would tell myself that it was enough.

I prayed he would forgive me later in the future. When he was older. When he understood that I did not want to give him away, that I had no choice, that I would have done anything to keep him but I could not keep him because I had nothing.

I prayed I would get this job.

I took a deep breath and I looked down at my flat shoes, scuffed at the toes from too many walks to the bus stop and too many nights standing behind the bar. I looked at my cheap clothes, the blazer I bought from a thrift store three years ago that still did not fit quite right across my shoulders, the blouse I ironed twice this morning because I could not get the wrinkles out. I looked at my hands, the nails bitten short, the skin dry from washing dishes at the bar.

Then I looked up at the skyscraper in front of me.

It rose into the sky like a monument to everything I had never been able to touch. Glass and steel and the kind of money that did not have to explain itself. I tilted my head back and I tried to count the floors but I lost track somewhere around the twentieth because the sun was reflecting off the windows and my eyes were starting to water.

I was really doing this.

He paid me to disappear and now I was here. I did not know what to expect. But I was not disappearing again. Especially not now that I had just found out he abandoned my son. Especially when I looked into Dwayne's eyes and saw nothing but emptiness, nothing but the hollow spaces where love should have been.

I pulled open the heavy glass door and I stepped inside.

The lobby was cool and quiet and it smelled like fresh flowers and polished marble. The reception desk was a long curve of white stone and behind it sat a woman who looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine. She smiled at me, warm and professional, and I felt my stomach tighten because she was so beautiful and I was so clearly not.

"Welcome to Reddington Group Holdings," she said, her voice was pleasant and welcoming and I wanted to thank her for not looking at me like I did not belong there.

"I am Tessa Hart," I said, and I poured every ounce of energy I had into making my voice sound confident. "I received an email for an interview."

"Ms. Hart," she repeated, and her fingers flew across the keyboard. I watched her nails, perfectly manicured, a soft pink that probably cost more than my entire outfit.

I took a quick glance around the lobby while I waited. The ceilings were high, impossibly high, and the walls were covered in some kind of pale stone that caught the light and made everything look soft and expensive. There was a seating area with leather chairs arranged around a low table. There was a water feature, a thin sheet of water falling down a wall of dark glass. There were people walking past in expensive suits.

It screamed money. More than the house I grew up in. More than anything I had seen in eight years.

"Here you go," she said, and she slid a key pass across the desk toward me. "Please proceed to the eleventh floor. HR will meet you there."

She smiled again. "Good luck."

The words caught me off guard. I did not know why. Maybe because I had not heard anyone say that to me in a long time. Maybe because I did not realize how much I needed to hear it until she said it.

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it.

I took the key pass and I walked toward the elevators. My reflection stared back at me from the polished metal doors and I looked away. I did not want to see the woman I had become. I wanted to remember the girl I used to be, the one who believed that if she was just good enough and quiet enough and obedient enough, someone would eventually choose her.

I needed this job. I needed the money. Wayne's medication was running low and the prescription was expensive and I did not know how I was going to pay for it if I did not get this job. His school fees. The rent was due in a month. And we needed food, always food, because he was growing and he was hungry and I could not tell him that there was nothing left to eat.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. I pressed the button for the eleventh floor and I felt the car rise beneath my feet.

The doors opened and I stepped out into a hallway that was even more polished than the lobby. The floors were marble. The walls were glass. There was a reception desk and another beautiful woman sitting behind it and I felt my confidence start to crumble.

I checked in and she told me to take a seat. I looked around the waiting area and I saw them.

Women in designer suits. Women with perfect hair and perfect makeup and shoes that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Women who looked like they belonged there, like they had always belonged there, like they had never had to scrape and beg and fight for the right to sit in a room like that.

I was the only one out of place. I was the only one who did not look like she belonged.

I sat down at the far end of the waiting area, as far away from the others as I could get. I crossed my legs and I folded my hands in my lap.

"I can't wait to meet him," one of the women said. She was tall and thin and her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that looked like it took an hour to achieve.

"Right," another woman said. "He is so hot in pictures."

"Cold and hot, you mean?"

The women laughed. I watched them and I felt something twist in my stomach.

"After the accident, he did not really attend galas and events," the first woman said. "I heard he completely changed after that."

I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Accident. What accident?

I pushed the thought down. I did not have time to think about it. I did not have the energy to wonder what happened to Raymond after I left. It did not matter. He paid me to disappear and I disappeared and whatever happened to him after that was not my concern.

One by one, the women were called into the office. I watched them walk in, confident and composed, and I watched them walk out, their faces unreadable. I did not know if they got the job. I did not know if any of them got the job. I just knew that I was next and my hands were shaking and my stomach was growling. I had not eaten since morning because I needed to save some for Wayne’s lunch and dinner.

After what felt like forever, the receptionist looked at me.

"Ms. Hart? You can go in now."

I stood up and I smoothed down my blazer. I walked toward the door. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else. My heart was beating so hard that I could hear it in my ears.

I opened the door and I stepped inside.

The office was large and bright and it smelled like expensive perfume and fresh coffee. A woman sat behind a desk that was so clean and organized that it made me feel messy just looking at it. She was polished and professional and she looked at me briefly before turning back to her computer.

"Ms. Hart, please take a seat," she said, and her voice was crisp with a clear British accent.

I sat down. My hands were shaking between my thighs and I pressed them together to steady them. I kept my eyes on her name tag, the silver plate on her desk.

Kathleen Brooks. Head of HR.

She looked up from her computer and she studied me for a moment. Her eyes were sharp, assessing. I felt like she could see right through me, like she knew that I was desperate and tired and barely holding myself together.

"Your qualifications are quite impressive," she said. "Tell me, Ms. Hart. What makes you different?"

I was not expecting that question. I was expecting anything but that. I was expecting her to ask about my previous experience or my education or why I had been out of work for so long. I was not expecting her to ask me what made me different.

I cleared my throat and I sat up a little straighter. I thought about Wayne. I thought about the way he looked at me like I was the center of his universe. I thought about the way he trusted me, even when I did not deserve it. I thought about the way I had learned to anticipate his needs before he even knew he had them.

"What makes me different," I said, and my voice came out steadier than I expected, "is that I have spent the last eight years learning how to anticipate needs before they are voiced. I have raised a child alone. I have learned how to read a room, how to read a person, how to know what they need before they ask for it. I am patient. I am resilient. I do not break when things get hard."

I paused and I looked at her.

"I have also learned that there is no substitute for showing up. Day after day. Even when you are tired. Even when you do not think you can do it. I show up. That is what makes me different."

Kathleen Brooks looked at me for a long moment. Her face was unreadable. I could not tell what she was thinking.

Then she nodded.

"You are hired," she said.