CHAPTER 2 — THE INTERVIEW DISASTER

The cold morning air stung Arielle’s cheeks as she stepped out of the subway station and tightened her coat around her trembling body. New York City rushed around her, taxi horns, loud footsteps, skyscrapers scraping the pale winter sky, but she felt completely alone inside it.

Her entire body ached from crying the night before.

Fired.

Humiliated.

Thrown out like trash.

And worst of all, Emma’s health was slipping again.

Every hour she didn’t have a new job was another hour the hospital bills would climb.

She stopped on the sidewalk, chest rising and falling too fast, her breath fogging in the cold. She wanted to collapse right there on the crowded corner of Lexington Avenue.

Instead, she forced her legs to move.

She had an interview today. Her only lead.

Her only chance.

She walked toward the gleaming silver building rising above the street, a twenty five story corporate tower with tinted glass and a rotating lobby door that looked like it spit out people who didn’t belong.

People like her.

Arielle wiped her palms on her skirt and whispered under her breath:

You can’t fail. Not today. Not again.

She pushed the door open.

**

The lobby was too bright, too clean, too polished. Her reflection in the marble floor almost made her wince: her coat was worn, her shoes were cheap, and she still looked like the girl who had been dragged out of MapleSun Bistro the day before.

She approached the front desk.

“Hi,” she said softly. “I...I’m here for an interview. Administrative assistant position. Lawson, Arielle.”

The receptionist took one glance at her and gave a neutral, professional smile.

“Take the elevator to the twenty-second floor,” she said. “Good luck.”

Arielle exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”

**

By the time the elevator doors slid open, her stomach felt hollow. She stepped into a long hallway lined with framed innovation awards, magazine covers, and photographs of the board directors.

She ignored them all.

Until she passed the last frame.

Her feet stopped.

Her heart stopped.

Her blood went ice cold.

Staring back at her, in a glossy silver frame, was the face she’d prayed she’d never see again.

Cold eyes.

Sharp jawline.

The same tailored suit.

Damian Blackwood.

A gold plaque read:

DAMIEN BLACKWOOD — CEO & Board Director, Blackwood Industries

Her breath vanished.

No. No, no, no. Not him. Not this building. Not this company.

She stepped back, pulse racing, vision blurring.

Of all the companies in New York…

Of all the buildings…

Of all the mornings…

Her stomach twisted violently.

She should walk away.

She should run.

But Emma’s face flashed in her mind.

Her baby sister, lying in a hospital bed, struggling to breathe without pain.

Arielle tightened her fists until her nails bit her palms.

I don’t care if he owns this company. I don’t care if he hates me. I’m getting this job for Emma.

She inhaled deeply and pushed open the glass doors to reception.

**

“Next,” the HR assistant called.

Arielle stepped forward, trying to ignore the dozen other applicants sitting in the waiting area with perfect suits, perfect handbags, perfect resumes.

She clutched the manila folder holding her resume so tightly it bent.

The HR woman smiled. “Arielle Lawson?”

Arielle nodded.

“Great. The board is doing final interviews this morning. You’ll go in as soon as they’re ready for you.”

Arielle blinked. “The board?”

“Yes. The administrative assistant will work closely with several departments, so this round is with two board members.” She lowered her voice, as if sharing gossip. “Mr. Blackwood sits in on some interviews too, depending on his schedule.”

The room tilted.

Arielle held onto the edge of the chair.

Please. Please say he’s not coming today.

Just then, the elevator doors behind her slid open.

A gust of air rushed in.

Footsteps, measured, confident, echoed through the room.

The HR woman straightened immediately. “Good morning, Mr. Blackwood.”

Arielle’s heart stopped.

He was here.

Walking toward them.

The room fell completely silent as Damian Blackwood stepped into the interview area like he owned the oxygen everyone breathed.

A grey tailored suit.

A black coat draped over his arm.

Cold, sharp energy radiating off him like winter in human form.

The HR assistant extended a tablet. “Your 10 a.m. interview panel is ready, sir.”

He nodded once, and that was the moment his eyes fell on Arielle.

It was subtle.

A flicker.

A pause in his stride.

Recognition hit him instantly.

Arielle felt it like a blow to the chest.

He remembered her.

The coffee.

The chaos.

The humiliation.

His jaw tightened in irritation, the kind that said, Why are you here? Why are you even breathing the same air?

Arielle froze, throat tight.

“this way sir,” the HR assistant told him.

But Damian didn’t move.

His eyes stayed locked on Arielle, sharp and cutting.

Her hands trembled around her resume.

She wished she could disappear.

Or melt into the chair.

Or stop existing entirely.

Anything but this.

Finally, he tore his gaze away and walked into the conference room.

The HR assistant turned toward the waiting applicants. “The next candidate, Arielle Lawson.”

Arielle’s stomach lurched.

Every nerve in her body screamed.

But she stood.

Walked.

Pushed open the conference room door.

And walked right into her worst nightmare.

**

Three executives sat at the long glass table.

Two board members.

And Damian Blackwood.

He didn’t look at her as she entered.

He didn’t have to.

His presence filled the room like a storm.

“Take a seat,” one of the board members said.

Arielle sat.

Her hands were cold.

Her throat was dry.

She kept her eyes on the two interviewers, refusing to glance at Damian.

The other board member smiled kindly. “Miss Lawson, let’s begin. Tell us about your experience.”

Arielle opened her mouth, but Damian spoke first.

“We don’t need to waste time.”

Arielle’s head snapped up.

The board member turned toward him in confusion.

Damian leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on Arielle with cool, effortless dismissal.

“I’ve already interacted with her,” he said. “She lacks professionalism and composure. She’s not suited for this role.”

Arielle’s breath hitched.

The board member blinked.

he asked carefully, “Mr. Blackwood, would you like us to proceed with a standard evaluation regardless?”

“No.”

Damian’s voice was final.

Cold.

Sharp.

Unmovable.

He picked up the applicant folder in front of him, her folder, and closed it.

“We’re done here.”

Arielle felt something break inside her chest.

“I..please” she whispered. “Just let me...let me speak. I need this job. I..”

“This isn’t a charity,” Damian said flatly.

Her eyes stung.

“You don’t have to help me,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Just give me a fair chance.”

He stared at her, expression unreadable, and somehow crueler because of it.

“This is your fair chance,” he said. “And my answer is no.”

Silence.

The kind that suffocates.

The kind that crushes hope.

Arielle’s fingers trembled against the edge of her resume. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears, refusing to let them fall.

The other board member shifted uncomfortably. “Miss Lawson, thank you for coming”

Damian’s voice cut the air like a knife.

“She’s rejected.”

Arielle felt the words like a physical impact.

Rejected.

Again.

In front of everyone.

She stood slowly, her legs weak beneath her.

Eyes burning.

Heart aching.

She reached the door, gripping the handle with numb fingers, and whispered to herself,

For Emma. Keep moving for Emma.

She stepped out of the conference room.

And behind her, Damian Blackwood didn’t look even look at her.

He didn’t have to.

He had already destroyed her day.

Again.