LOGINHAZEL
DAY 2. I marked it boldly on the calendar before stepping back to look at it. My eyes burned badly from staying awake all night. I had spent the entire night doing what I knew best. Betty pushed my bedroom door open while yawning dramatically. Her eyes immediately landed on the overflowing ashtray beside my laptop. Right on cue. “Hazel!” she snapped. “Do you plan on smoking your lungs out completely?” I almost smiled, predictable. She walked over and snatched the cigarette from my fingers before I could take another drag. “Seriously?” she complained. “Did you even sleep at all? Your eyes look terrible.” “I’m alive.” “Barely.” I leaned back against the chair while she studied my face carefully. Then her attention shifted toward the laptop screen glowing in front of me. “Wait,” she said slowly. “What exactly have you been doing since we got back yesterday?” I turned the laptop toward her with a small grin. “The universe loves me.” Her eyes narrowed immediately. “That expression never leads to anything good.” “The position of executive assistant at Laurent Group just became available.” Her jaw dropped slightly. “You want to become his assistant?” “Temporary assistant,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.” Betty stared at me like I had completely lost my sanity again. “You’re a full-stack developer, Hazel. Why would you apply for an assistant position?” “Because assistants stay close to powerful men.” She folded her arms. “And what makes you think they’ll even call you? That company probably has hundreds of applicants already.” My smile widened slowly. “Oh, there were applicants.” Betty blinked. The silence lasted exactly three seconds before realisation hit her face. “No.” “Oh yes.” “Hazel.” “What?” “Did you hack their recruitment system?” I gasped dramatically. “You say that like it’s illegal.” “It is illegal!” I laughed softly while closing the laptop halfway. “Relax. I only helped Destiny a little.” “Helped destiny?” More than twenty people applied. Now only three applications remain visible.” Betty looked horrified. “You’re insane.” “One candidate will arrive five minutes late tomorrow. Another will arrive ten minutes late.” Her mouth fell open. “You sabotaged them?” “Not badly,” I replied calmly. “Just enough.” Betty dragged both hands down her face. “I can’t believe I’m friends with a criminal.” “Ex-convict,” I corrected politely. “That is not better!” I finally stood up from the chair and walked toward the window. The morning sunlight slipped through the curtains softly, but the heaviness inside my chest remained. Nothing about this revenge would bring back the two years I lost. Nothing would erase the image of my mother in Jarvis’s bed. But I still wanted them to suffer. “Jarvis and I weren’t even drunk that night,” I said quietly. Betty looked at me. “We had drinks at the club, yes, but I was sober enough to drive. I told him we should order a ride instead.” “And he refused.” I nodded slowly. “He always needed control. He insisted on driving; he was the one behind the wheel, not me.” Betty’s face darkened immediately. “That bastard,” she muttered. “He let you destroy your life for him.” I gave a bitter laugh. “No. I destroyed my life myself.” Because I loved him, that was the embarrassing part. I loved Jarvis with every single piece of me. I still remember the day I introduced him to my mother. The smile on his face, the way he looked at her. ‘Wow, your mum is beautiful and hot.’ At the time, I thought it was harmless. “The interview is tomorrow,” I announced, pushing the thoughts away. “Wish me luck.” Betty sighed dramatically before raising an imaginary wine glass. “To seducing rich old men.” I burst out laughing. “To Elvis.” “To Elvis.” We both laughed so hard afterwards that my chest hurt. ++++++ DAY 3. The official beginning of Operation Elvis Laurent. I arrived at the Laurent Group exactly at 9 a.m. I adjusted my blazer uncomfortably while staring around the building lobby. God, I hated corporate clothes. I liked clothes that breathed. Clothes that showed skin. If somebody spent years in the gym building a body like mine, hiding it should honestly be considered a crime. Still, appearances mattered, and right now, I needed to look respectable. The company itself was exactly what I expected from a billionaire empire. I honestly didn’t understand why Jarvis lived like an average rich kid when his father owned all this. Then again, Jarvis lacked ambition and intelligence, too. “Are you the only applicant here?” I looked up at the woman standing behind the reception desk. She wore heavy makeup and an expression that immediately told me she disliked my very existence. “Yes,” I answered simply. Before she could respond, the lobby atmosphere shifted instantly. People straightened, conversations stopped. Even the receptionist sat properly. I turned. Elvis Laurent had just walked in. Two other applicants hurried in behind him, looking breathless and stressed. Late, perfect, today really was my lucky day. Mr Elvis barely glanced around as he removed his sunglasses. “Any applicant arriving after me is automatically disqualified,” he said coldly. “I have zero tolerance for lateness.” His voice thundered through the lobby. The two candidates immediately started apologising nervously, but he ignored them completely. “Interview starts in ten minutes,” he continued while walking past us. “Send the remaining applicant to my office.” Then he disappeared toward the elevators. A few minutes later, she escorted me upstairs with visible reluctance. I stepped into Elvis Laurent’s office calmly. The office was breathtaking. Mr Elvis stood near his desk, removing his suit jacket when he suddenly paused. His eyes settled on my face properly this time. “I know you,” he said slowly. Of course you do. I’m the woman who saved your dramatic life yesterday. “The girl from the jogging incident.” I smiled politely. “Yes, sir.” He studied me for a long moment before sitting down. A cup of coffee rested near his hand. “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he said calmly. “So tell me something honestly.” “Did you stage that robbery yesterday so I would feel indebted enough to hire you?”Hazel"You will not speak to me in that tone. I was being courteous to him. That's all."I wanted to use my counting technique from one to zero, but it wasn’t working. His words ignite the pain I’d been hiding perfectly.Slut shaming, calling me a gold digger, and claiming I’m unworthy to be with, are those also Jarvis’s thoughts?‘You will never measure up.’Is that what the men in my life actually saw when they looked at me, someone temporary? A droplet of water landed on my arm, and it was already beginning to drizzle."Are you speaking to me in that tone?" His voice dropped lower. "Do you realise I'm your boss?""Yes." I cut him off before he could build any more momentum. "You are my boss, not the air I breathe." I took a step toward him. "You don't get to shame me with your words. So what if you're a billionaire? I feed myself. I take care of myself. If you think the word "fired” is going to make me fold, then you have the wrong person standing in front of you."I closed the r
Hazel"She should excuse us."I swallowed hard enough to hear it myself.I didn't look at Elvis, didn't need to. I already knew he wasn't going to say anything. I picked up my things and stood."We have a business party tonight," Elvis said, just as I reached the door. "Several delegates will be attending."I turned. He was sliding his black card across the desk toward me."Go with the driver. Get something for the event."I looked at the card for a second, then picked it up. Under normal circumstances, your boss handing you his black card would feel like a lottery. Today, it didn't land the way it should have.‘No one of importance. Just my assistant.’The words were still sitting in my chest. I left without saying anything.I didn't wait for the chauffeur.I walked the length of his estate alone, the air on my face, and flagged down a taxi at the gate."119 Blackwood Correctional Centre."The driver glanced at me briefly in the rearview mirror. "Yes, ma'am."I turned to the window
HAZEL My alarm didn't wake me. That alone should have told me something was wrong. I am a deep sleeper, the kind who needs three alarms set at five-minute intervals and still hits snooze twice. Waking up on my own, naturally, without any electronic intervention, simply does not happen. I stretched, my eyes still closed, registering the unfamiliar softness of the mattress beneath me. Then I opened my eyes. A thirty-two-inch television hung on the wall across the room. I sat up slowly. I did not own a thirty-two-inch television. I did not own a bed this high off the ground, or a room this size, the morning light coming through curtains that probably cost more than my monthly rent. This was not Betty's house. I sat with that information for a moment. Okay, think. I remember the storm, Elvis, and me waiting in the office. I had sat down on the couch to rest my back for just a moment, and that was it. I got up and moved to the door, easing it open, and what greeted me o
Elvis"Are you flirting with me, Hazel?"A low chuckle left her mouth. "If being honest is called flirting, then I suppose I'm guilty, sir. You did permit me to speak freely."I was looking directly at her now. After an entire morning of careful avoidance, I finally looked, and it turned out to be the worst option. Most people, under that kind of direct attention, would glance away. Find something interesting on the floor, not her.She stood there and looked straight back. I held it as long as I could.I looked away first.Whatever this was, it needed to stop. This girl was dismantling something in my brain, rearranging things that had been fixed in place for years, and I had neither the time nor the patience for it. The solution was obvious, and I had used it before without a second thought.I opened my mouth to say the word, Fire.It hung there between my mind and my lips, hooked on something I couldn't identify, refusing to come out.The glass door slid open."Hey, Dad." Donald
HAZEL "Really? You want to play the sick card? Why?" I launched myself onto Betty before she could finish the sentence, and we both went down in a graceless heap onto the cold floor. "Hey! You are heavy, get off me!" She rolled me to the side. I was laughing too hard to resist, ribs aching with it, the two of us sprawled on the floor like we had absolutely nowhere better to be. Which, at the moment, we didn't. When the laughter finally smoothed over into breathless quiet, Betty turned her head toward the ceiling. "What if he doesn't call?" I stared up at the ceiling too, hands folded behind my head. Today was either day ten or eleven of Operation Get Elvis; I'd lost precise count, but the momentum was there. I could feel it. This morning, I'd called in sick, which was either brilliant or unhinged, depending on how it played out. The theory was simple: if I had left even the smallest impression on him, he would call. And if he called, I would know it wasn't nothing.
ELVIS"A plaything?"Donald asked the question with the kind of straight face that suggested he genuinely expected an answer.A slow breath escaped through my nose."Finish your food."That only made the grin spread wider across his face."I knew it.""You know nothing.""I know you've been behaving strangely, Dad." He leaned back in his chair, satisfied with himself. "First, the body paint. Now you're smiling at random moments. This is exactly how these things start."I reached for my wine and said nothing."Donald.""Yes, Dad?""You're annoying."He laughed while hitting his chest. For a moment, it dragged me back to when he was younger, before life found its way into the cracks of our once-happy family and made a home there.He took a sip of wine, and when he looked at me again, the grin had softened."I think you should join the company, son." I set my glass down. "We need capable hands."His eyebrows lifted. He was wrinkling his nose again, a habit I'd long since stopped trying







