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May's eyes wandered around the empty house, the silence suffocating her like a shroud. Her mother's laughter, once the soundtrack of their home, was now a distant memory. The pain of her loss still lingered, a gaping wound that refused to heal. Her father, once a pillar of strength, had crumbled under the weight of his grief. He had remarried just a few months later, and the house had transformed into a cold, unforgiving place.
May remembered the day her stepmother had moved in. The sound of suitcases being dragged up the stairs, the smell of unfamiliar perfume, and the feeling of being pushed aside. Her father's love had slowly dwindled, replaced by indifference and neglect. Her stepmother, a woman with a pinched face, had never shown her any kindness. May was treated like a servant, forced to do the household chores and cook meals for the family.
As she grew older, May realized that she had to fend for herself. She took up odd jobs, cleaning houses and washing dishes to make ends meet. The work was grueling, but she persevered, driven by her determination to build a better future.
Months later, May proudly graduated from California State University, a testament to her resilience and hard work. The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of cheering crowds, and the feel of her mother's ring on her finger had made the moment unforgettable. She had done it, despite all odds.
Armed with her degree, May eagerly sought employment, hoping to escape the clutches of poverty. But as she prepared for the interviews, she realized that her wardrobe was a liability. The clothes she owned were old, worn out, and threadbare. She had no choice but to make do with what she had.
The day of the crucial interview arrived, and May carefully prepared the outfit she had chosen. It was a simple dress, a far cry from the designer suits she had seen other applicants wear, but it was the best she could afford. She ironed it meticulously, the steam rising like a mist, smoothing out the wrinkles that seemed to mirror the lines of worry etched on her face.
As she walked into the reception area, the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to hum in sync with her racing heart. The receptionist, a woman with an air of polished indifference, glanced up from her computer screen, her eyes lingering on May's dress. The unspoken disapproval stung like a slap.
"Excuse me," May began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Could you please direct me to the interview room for the marketing position?"
The receptionist pointed towards a bank of elevators, her voice devoid of warmth. "Take the elevator to the tenth floor, turn left, and you'll see the waiting room."
May managed a weak smile. "Thank you."
As she stepped out of the elevator on the tenth floor, a cloud of shame descended upon her. The waiting room was filled with impeccably dressed individuals, each exuding an air of confidence and success. They were clad in the latest and most expensive clothing, their polished shoes gleaming under the bright lights. May felt like an imposter, a misplaced puzzle piece in a picture of affluence.
She took a deep breath, straightened her dress, and walked into the interview room. Three interviewers sat behind a large table, their expressions unreadable. She offered a polite greeting, trying to project an air of confidence despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
The interview was a blur of questions and answers, but May could sense the judgmental gaze of the interviewers. Two of them had already written her off, their eyes conveying a subtle disdain that was impossible to ignore.
A day later, May received the dreaded email. She hadn't gotten the job. The final statement of the letter was a vague explanation that she didn't meet the requirements for the position. May knew that the real reason was her appearance.
Crushed but not defeated, May dressed in her usual work clothes and set off to Joe's Cafe, where she worked as a barista. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her like a warm hug, and the friendly chatter of the customers lifted her spirits.
As she made coffee for the customers, they commended her for her skills, her creativity, and her warm smile. May found solace in their kind words, a reminder that she was valued and appreciated, even if she didn't fit the mold of a corporate professional.
One afternoon, as May was wiping down the counter, Joe, the owner of the cafe, approached her with a concerned look on his face. "May, you seem down lately," he said, his voice gentle. "What's troubling you?"
May hesitated, unsure whether to confide in her boss. But Joe had always been a supportive and understanding friend, so she decided to open up. She told him about her struggles to find a job, her financial difficulties, and her disappointment at being judged based on her appearance.
Joe listened patiently, his eyes filled with empathy. When she had finished, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "May, you are one of the most talented and hardworking people I know," he said. "Don't let anyone tell you that you're not good enough. Your worth is not determined by your clothes or your job title. It's determined by your character, your skills, and your passion."
Joe's words resonated with May, giving her a renewed sense of hope. She realized that she couldn't let the rejection and judgment of others define her. She had to keep fighting for her dreams, even if it meant taking a different path than she had initially envisioned.
May was on the verge of giving up on her dreams, but she decided to give it one last try. She knew that she couldn't change the way the world perceived her, but she could change the way she perceived herself. She would no longer allow her appearance to hold her back. She would focus on her strengths, her skills, and her unwavering determination to succeed.
The sun had fully dipped below the horizon by the time May and James returned to the cabin. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the quiet of the woods was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and distant hoot of an owl. Inside, the cabin was dimly lit, shadows flickering softly across the rough-hewn walls. They had agreed to keep a low profile, knowing that any misstep could lead to discovery—and danger.May sat on the edge of the worn wooden bed, her mind racing. The day’s revelations had left her battered with questions and fears. James, sitting across from her, looked exhausted but determined. The events of the past twenty-four hours had changed everything—her perception of him, her understanding of the threat, and her own role in this dangerous game.“Do you really think Alex can find something concrete?” May asked quietly, breaking the silence.James nodded slowly. “He’s good at what he does. If anyone can uncover the truth, it’s him. But it’s g
The first tendrils of dawn crept through the gaps in the cabin's wooden walls, painting the interior in hues of grey and pale gold. May stirred, her body stiff and aching from the night's ordeal. She glanced over at James, who was still asleep on the worn sofa, his face pale and drawn even in slumber. The bruises from the warehouse fight were stark against his skin, a brutal reminder of the danger they were in.She slipped out of bed and quietly made her way to the small kitchen. The cabin was sparsely furnished, but it had a rustic charm that offered a small measure of comfort. She found a chipped enamel pot and filled it with water from a hand pump, then set it on the ancient stove to boil. As she waited, she peered out the window, scanning the surrounding woods. Towering pines and thick underbrush surrounded the cabin, creating a sense of both seclusion and vulnerability.The water finally boiled, and she brewed a pot of strong, black coffee. The aroma filled the cabin, a welcome d
"I know I've hurt you, May," James began, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the cavernous warehouse. The single, bare bulb cast long, distorted shadows, making his face appear both vulnerable and menacing. "And I know that words alone can't undo what I've done. But I need you to understand…"May stood frozen, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The James before her, the man who had lured her to this desolate place under the guise of an anonymous messenger, was a far cry from the charming mentor she had admired. The betrayal cut deep, a searing pain that threatened to overwhelm her."Understand what, James?" she finally managed, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "That you enjoy playing with people's lives? That you find it amusing to manipulate my feelings? What exactly is it that you want me to understand?"James flinched, the harshness of her words hitting their mark. He took another step closer, closing the distance between them, and May instinctively recoi
May left the office, the action of her legs seeming almost automatic while her brain kept on replaying the situation of the last few minutes. The disclosure that it was James who had been sending her the cryptic messages had utterly stunned her, and being confronted with Malory after that was just the icing on the cake. All these emotions were like a wave that almost engulfed her, and she was quite lost.As a matter of fact, May was thinking about the working relationship she had had with James when she was outside. She had been very fortunate to learn a lot of things from him, both at work and in life. Not only did he encourage her to give her best, but he also invited her to take risks and confront her fears. Nevertheless, he also injured her by toying with her feelings and by using her as a puppet without actually ever showing his strings. It is uncertain whether she can find it in herself to forgive him, or if she even wants to attempt it at all.In May's mind, her
The revelation that James was the one sending her mysterious messages still lingered in May's mind, like a ghost that refused to be exorcised. She couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach, a mixture of anger, shock, and a strange, unsettling curiosity. As she walked back to her office, the words "It's me, May" echoed in her mind, a haunting melody that she couldn't escape.James watched her from afar, his eyes fixed on her profile as she processed the information. He had expected her to be surprised, maybe even angry, but he hadn't anticipated the depth of her emotions. He had miscalculated, and now he was left to deal with the consequences of his actions.May stopped at her desk, her hands trembling as she tried to gather her thoughts. She felt like she was living in a dream, a world where nothing made sense and everything was turned upside down. James's words kept replaying in her mind, "I wanted to capture your attention...I wanted to test
The muted glow of the setting sun cast long shadows across May's small apartment, painting the walls in hues of orange and purple. It was a tranquil scene, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of activity that had become her daily life since accepting the position as James Lilion's personal assistant. She sank into the plush cushions of her sofa, a steaming mug of chamomile tea warming her hands. The apartment, once a temporary refuge, was slowly transforming into a sanctuary, a place where she could unwind and reflect on the whirlwind of experiences that had defined the past few months.May's thoughts drifted back to her previous existence, a life of juggling multiple part-time jobs, scraping by on a shoestring budget, and constantly battling the gnawing anxiety of financial insecurity. It felt like a distant memory, a faded photograph from a life she no longer recognized. Now, she found herself immersed in the fast-paced world of high finance, attending meetings with influential figure







