Chapter four

Chapter 4

ELENA'S POV 

I closed the door behind me before turning to the open window. Elijah sat in the back seat, playing with the toy truck he had insisted on bringing. Then, he turned to me, his eyes lighting up as he grinned. 

My heart melted at the sight of the little creature in front of me. “Hey, baby," I whispered as I reached in through the window, ruffling his hair. “I'll see you later, alright." 

Just as I turned to leave, his tiny voice stopped me. "Mommy… when will I start school again?" 

His question hit me with a quiet ache. I bit my lip, glancing at Clara who sat behind the wheel, watching the both of us. Sighing, I opened the door and crouched beside him, clasping my hands around his.

“I… I don't know yet, baby,” I replied gently, a sad smile tugging at my lips. "But if everything works out well with my interview, you'll be back at school, playing with Sam and Leo before the week ends.”

He nodded slowly, his attention returning to the little red truck in his laps. “Okay, mummy." 

I wrapped my arms around him in a short hug, keeping my smile, trying not to let my worry show. “Now, you be good for Aunt Clara, okay?" 

“Okay, mummy," he said with a soft giggle. 

I stood up, stepping back as I closed the door. Clara started the car and when I turned to her, I saw the worried look on her face. I gave her a reassuring smile. 

“I’ll be fine, Clara,” I said with a wave of hand. "Thanks for taking Elijah with you. I’d have left him home but I just don't have the money to pay for a babysitter and…” My voice trailed off and I sighed. "I'll be back before three to pick him up.”

Clara stared at me for some moments before giving me a small nod. “I wish you goodluck, El," she said, giving me a salute before pulling away. 

I stood there, clutching the sleeves of my shirt as I watched them roll down the street and disappear around a corner. Then, I turned to face the large building behind me. 

I froze for some moments, taking in the grand structure–it was a tall, glass edifice, about twenty storeys tall. The building gleamed in the sunlight, the windows sparkling as they reflected the city around it. 

Taking a deep breath, I smoothened my shirt and walked inside. 

The moment I stepped into the building, I was met with a whole different world from the small customer service office I worked at before. Everyone looked clean, their shirts crisp and pressed. No one was shouting insults or walking around with cups of coffee that spilled on their shirts. 

I looked down at my own shirt–a faded blouse with a brown stain from the oatmeal I had prepared for Elijah this morning and a small teat I had lazily tried sewing up the night before. I looked completely different from everyone here. 

My confidence faltered. 

Before I could think too long about it, a young woman in a sharp skirt and blazer walked up to me. “Hello," she greeted, extending her hand toward me. “I'm Mary." 

“I'm Elena," I replied, managing a smile as I took her hand. 

“How can I help you, Elena?” she asked, maintaining that polite grin. She looked down at the stain on my shirt and I watched her smile falter. 

I gulped. 

“Y-Yeah," I stuttered as I dug my shaky hand into my purse and brought out my phone. “I saw a posting for a job offer for an assistant position." I tapped on my screen and showed her the application form I had signed. “I actually applied yesterday and got a message to come in for an interview today." 

“Oh, you're… one of the applicants?" She asked and I nodded. 

She tried so hard to remain polite but I could see from the look she had on her face that she didn't consider me fit. Her constant staring at the stain gave it away. 

“I was… preparing breakfast for my son and…” I chuckled nervously, trying to block the stain with the strap of my purse. "Um… do you know where…" 

“Yeah," Mary answered with a small nod as she turned. “Follow me. Right this way.”

She led me down a long hallway filled with plaques and framed awards showcasing the company's progress. Paintings and pictures of different people–who I supposed had once run the company lined–the walls. We had reached the end when a certain picture at the far corner caught my attention. I squinted, trying to make out the face when Mary called my name. 

“Miss Elena.” I turned to see her standing in front of an open door. “The waiting room." 

“Oh," I mumbled as I adjusted the strap of my purse and quickly walked in. “Thank–” I had not finished talking when she walked out and closed the door behind her. "Oh.”

Another worker, Janet, walked over to me, wearing the same eerie, polite smile Mary had, and showed me to my seat at a corner. I thanked her and plopped down, clutching my folder close to my chest. 

Several women were seated in the room, all of them well dressed—crisp shirts, pencil skirts and perfectly polished nails. Just like when I had walked in, I was a clear contrast to everyone else. 

I opened my folder and brought out the notes I had written the night before. I rehearsed, whispering answers to every possible question on the notes as I stared at the door before me. But no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, I could not ignore the whispers going on behind me. 

“Is that a good stain on her shirt?" 

“I think I saw a bug in her hair." 

“Smells like baby lotion." 

I pretended not to hear their snickers and murmurs, keeping my eyes on my folder as my heart thumped loudly. 

“What are your strengths? I’m organized, good at multitasking, and I pay attention to detail,” j whispered, trying to ignore the growing laughter behind me. 

But then—

I caught a flash of light from the corner of my eyes. I turned, a confused frown on my face, only to see two secretaries–Janet and another lady–taking pictures of me on their phones. 

Janet stifled a laugh, turning to her colleague as she showed her the picture she had taken. “For proof," I heard her whisper. “When they kick her out, we'll show the others." 

Anger burned in my chest as I watched them giggle. I wanted to stand up and scream at them, to tell them I didn't look good because I had a son I was taking care of, but before I could say anything, the door to the office burst open. 

A young woman stumbled out, clutching her folder to her chest as she covered her face, crying her eyes out. Her makeup was smudged all over her features and she didn't even glance back as she raced out of the waiting room. 

The whole room went quiet and even the receptionists were silent. 

A lump formed in my throat as I stared at the swinging door. She had looked put together when she had walked in, dressed better than me and even sounded more educated. But now…

“What… What just happened?” one of the girls behind me asked. 

“They say the CEO’s brutal,” another replied softly. “One of the youngest in the country. And his workers say he's cold and totally ruthless.”

“I heard he’s gay,” someone added. “Probably just hiring a female assistant to look good for the press.”

I took in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I watched another applicant stand up and walk in. She looked better than the former and I thought, ‘maybe, her's would be different.’ But not too long after, she also came out red-eyed and stifling a sob. 

My lips quivered, my mind racing as I also watched her walk out the waiting room. Maybe I shouldn't be here. If they weren't qualified, why would I be…

“Elena Hart?" 

My heart nearly stopped. It was my turn.