Chapter 6 Going to him

Claire's POV

I returned home to find Jennifer still out. Despair flooded over me like a tidal wave. Would I lose Dad?

I had to pull myself together.

I sat back down at my laptop. The screen still displayed the job sites I'd been staring at for days. I clicked to send another resume—my fifth today, one of dozens this week. Each submission felt like screaming into the void. My inbox overflowed with polite rejections and automated responses.

Last semester, pharmaceutical companies had courted me—impressed by my research on rare werewolf neurological disorders. Now they wouldn't even grant phone interviews.

Four wasted hours later, my eyes burned from screen glare. I stretched, my spine cracking in protest. The secondhand office chair Jennifer salvaged from the sidewalk didn't help, but upgrading furniture was an impossible luxury now.

A new email notification.

I clicked automatically. Another rejection. At least this one had a real name at the bottom—better than those cold HR auto-replies.

Warm hands settled on my shoulders. Jennifer stood behind me, kneading gently.

"That bad?" she asked.

I nodded, leaning my head against her stomach. "Yeah. Theo rejected me again."

"Fuck! Rich guys and their control issues," Jennifer snapped. "The moment a woman takes initiative, they panic and lose interest. Always assuming we want their money—like we couldn't possibly just want to turn off the damn emotions and move on."

I gave a bitter laugh. "I think he suspects ulterior motives—"

"So what now?" Her voice finally softened. "Can your dad hold on?"

"I know." I nodded. "I'll keep applying."

She paused, then squeezed my shoulders. "Don't lose hope, Claire. You're overqualified. Any company would be lucky to have you."

"Wish I could do more," she added quietly, guilt weighing her words.

"I know." I covered her hand with mine. "Not your burden to carry."

But it was mine.

Turning back to the glowing screen filled with rejections and unanswered applications, silence pressed in again, suffocating. Even the walls seemed to close in.

Was this it?

Would I ultimately crawl back to Adrian, accepting his disgusting terms just to keep my father alive?

The thought left me ice-cold. Adrian's smug grin haunted me. His voice echoed like a curse:

You'll crawl back. They always do.

A chime startled me from the dark thoughts. Another rejection probably. I clicked automatically, bracing for the usual form letter.

Instead, I found myself staring at an interview invitation from VM Group—for a secretary position I'd never applied for.

"Secretary job?" I read aloud, confusion momentarily overriding despair. "Interview tomorrow at 10am."

Jennifer leaned over my shoulder, scanning the email. "Holy shit, Claire. Look at that salary!"

The number stunned me. Nearly triple what I'd expected from entry-level pharma work—enough to cover Dad's treatments with living expenses to spare.

"This has to be a mistake," I muttered, digging through my sent applications folder. "I never applied to VM Group."

"Who cares if it's a mistake?" Jennifer exclaimed. "Go to the interview! What's the worst that could happen—they realize they called the wrong person and you wasted a morning?"

She had a point. We both knew I had no better options.

"I don't even have interview clothes for someplace like VM Group," I weakly protested.

Jennifer was already halfway to the bedroom. "You can borrow my charcoal suit—the one I wore to my cousin's wedding. And those black heels I never wore because they made me too tall. Perfect together."

Thirty minutes later, I stood before the mirror while Jennifer adjusted the suit jacket, pinning it where it hung too loose on my smaller frame.

"There," she said, stepping back to admire her work. "Conservative but not frumpy. Professional but not boring. Secretary material if I ever saw it."

I smoothed the unfamiliar fabric, fighting the anxiety churning my stomach. "You think they'll ask why someone with a pharmacology degree wants a secretary job?"

"Say you're broadening your experience," Jennifer suggested, handing me simple pearl earrings. "Or that you admire the company mission. Spin a story—it's not like you've got better offers."

Again, she was right.

Next morning, I left the apartment an hour early, determined not to be late. VM Group headquarters occupied the top floors of downtown's tallest glass tower, its reflective surface catching morning light like a beacon.

My confidence wavered upon entering the soaring lobby. Executives in tailored suits strode across polished marble. Military-postured guards manned multiple checkpoints. Everything here radiated wealth, power, and exclusivity—a world apart from mine.

I approached reception, forcing my spine straight despite the borrowed clothes and growing unease.

"Good morning," I told the immaculate receptionist. "Claire White. I have a 10am interview for the secretary position."

She tapped her keyboard, then nodded. "Yes, Ms. White. You'll need to go through security for a temporary pass."

As I turned toward the checkpoint, something caught my eye—the massive corporate logo on the wall behind reception. The stylized VM Group insignia was recognizable, but the smaller emblem beside it made my skin crawl.

The crescent moon insignia—identical to Adrian's cufflinks. The same symbol from official Crescent Pack communications.

The realization hit like a physical blow. VM Group was a Crescent Pack holding. This wasn't some legitimate opportunity—just another cruel game orchestrated by Adrian. Maybe he thought since I'd been willing to sell myself to Theo, I should now accept his terms.

I considered leaving immediately, but some stubborn part refused to give him the satisfaction. Better to face whatever humiliation he'd planned head-on than slink away like some defeated Omega.

With renewed resolve, I marched toward security, ready for whatever trap awaited upstairs.