Chapter 5- The Interview

Elena's POV 

I looked at the cracked screen of my phone for the fifth time.

9:27 a.m.

Perfect.

 Early enough to pretend I had my life together.

The reflection staring back at me in the elevator glass didn’t look like an heiress……Or a Carter. 

I looked like every broke girl in New York trying to hustle her way into something bigger.

 My hair was messy in a “please believe I’m struggling” kind of way.

 My jeans were from a cheap ass thrift-store. The beige sweater was from a Lost and Found box I had found in a creepy and abandoned subway in Manhattan. In summary, I had never thought I would put in a lot of effort to look poor. But here I was.

That was the point.

“Play it poor,” Dad had said. “Play it desperate. Make him believe you need this job like air.”

The elevator pinged as the doors slid open to reveal a marble lobby so shiny it could blind you.

 Blackthorne Holdings glared from a gold plaque on the wall.

 People in suits just walked around like they were robots being controlled.

I clutched my tiny fake-leather purse and headed for the reception desk.

The woman behind it looked like she’d been born in a horror film: The Barbie Edition. Blonde bun, blood-red nails and a blood-red perfect lipstick. She glanced up, her eyes sweeping me from head to toe like some trash from the dumpster. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Can I help you?” she asked, tone already saying no, I don’t want to.

“Elena Reed,” I said, forcing a polite smile. “I’m here for the interview with Mr. Blackthorne.”

Her smile sharpened. “Interviews were scheduled for nine sharp.”

I blinked. “It’s 9:30.”

She typed something, way too slow. “Yes,” she said finally, with fake sympathy. “The interviews are now closed. Mr. Blackthorne has already selected his final candidates.”

My stomach twisted. “Wait….what? But the listing said they close at ten.”

She shrugged, tapping her manicured finger on the desk. “He’s an early man. When he decides, he decides.”

I tried to keep my cool. “Please, just tell him I’m here. Maybe he can squeeze me in?....I really need this money.”

The woman’s smile vanished. “Ma’am, I said it’s closed. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Something in me itched. This was not how today was supposed to go.

I leaned closer. “You don’t understand. I really need this interview. Please, just five minutes….and I'll be out of your hair.”

Her expression turned cold. “Security will escort you out if you don’t leave.”

There it was. That wall rich people build when they think they’re above you. So this was what it felt like to be poor…….It really sucked.

I took a step back, pretending to give up. “Okay, fine,” I muttered, turning toward the door.

But as soon as she looked down at her computer again, an idea clicked.

If the front door was closed, I’d find another one.

Two guards stood near the hallway leading to the private elevators. I needed a distraction. My heart started pounding so loud I could feel it in my throat.

I took out my phone, scrolled quickly, then said loud enough for the secretary to hear, “Oh my God! Someone just fainted outside!”

Both guards turned immediately. “What?” one of them said, stepping forward.

“Right there…by the revolving doors!” I pointed.

The moment they moved, I darted past them,slipping into the elevator, and hit the elevator button like my life depended on it.

“Hey! Miss!” the receptionist’s voice shot out like a whip. “Stop her!”

The elevator doors slid open. I jumped in and slammed the close button over and over, adrenaline screaming through me. The guards ran, but the doors shut just in time.

My breath came out shaky. I was in disbelief that I had actually pulled that shit off.

Holy shit. 

The elevator hummed upward, the numbers flashing fast…25… 30… 41… 52.

I leaned against the wall, heart still hammering. This was freaking insane. If Dad could see me right now, he’d probably smirk and say, “That’s my girl.”

No. Screw him.

I was doing this for me. For Mom. For everything he’d taken from me. For my birthright.

The elevator dinged.

I stepped out onto a floor so quiet it felt sacred. The only thing I heard was the sound of the air conditioning whirring in the background. My heart thumped in my chest. 

At the end of the hallway, a door stood slightly open. Gold plate: A. Blackthorne.

My palms were sweating.

This was it. I was only a hallway away from the first step in my plan. 

I walked closer, my knockoff heels sinking into the carpet. My mind was a storm with thoughts of “Don’t mess this up, Elena.” “Remember who you are.” “Be calm.” “Be….”

The sound hit me first. A low noise echoed from the room with sharp breaths.

I froze.

What the….

I pushed the door open wider before my brain could stop me.

And there he was,Adrian Blackthorne.

Not the cold, perfect CEO I’d seen in every magazine cover Dad had shown me.

His hand was on his hard, bulging cock as he moved his hands back and forth rhythmically…. throwing his head back and groaning in pleasure.

For one wild second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing. Then it hit me all at once.

“Oh my God!” I screamed.

The sound left my throat before I could stop it.

Adrian’s head snapped up. His eyes,dark grey and dangerous, were suddenly locked on me.

Everything froze.

He stood up in one sharp movement, yanking open a drawer. My heart dropped when I saw what was in his hand.

A gun, he pointed straight at me.

I threw my hands up, stumbling backward. “Wait…I…I

didn’t…”

 “Who the fuck are you?” he said, voice low and lethal,....and then his finger tightened on the trigger.