Four

Five years later…

Hazel.

Today is the day I've been praying for, my first day at my first job. I'd interviewed for the position of the Creative Director's Assistant. It's not exactly my dream job of being a fashion designer, but it's close enough. I believe that if I exercise patience and work hard, I'll get there one day.

The creative director I'll be working under is Amanda Amerigo, the owner of Felda Fashion House. The company bears her mother's name, Felda, as a tribute. Amanda is a bit of a workaholic and quite strict. She's been married three times and obtained most of her husbands' wealth through divorce. Her career always took precedence, and that's why she hasn't remarried after leaving her three husbands financially devastated.

Amanda already has an assistant, my best friend Ann, but she requested another one and recommended me for the position. After an interview with Amanda, she surprised me with her first words: "You're slim, I like it." It was an unusual compliment, but it indicated she approved of me in some way.

I admire Amanda; she's not all sweetness, but I respect her strong work ethic and her respect for her employees. She holds the record for the most clients and the highest net worth in Italy and even some parts of the world. She's my idol, and I couldn't be more excited to work with her.

I finish my breakfast and leave just in time to catch the bus to my new job. I don't want to make a bad impression on my first day, and punctuality is paramount to Amanda. Arriving fifteen minutes early, I have time to explore and familiarize myself with my schedule for the day.

Ann hasn't arrived yet, so I head to the office we'll be sharing, located just outside Amanda's office. It's an open space rather than a private room, but I'm grateful for it. It's my first job after completing my master's degree, and the pay is decent enough for me to cover half of the rent for the apartment I share with Ann and even save up for a car.

I settle into my chair and power up my computer. The feeling is surreal. I love everything about my little office – my desk, pens, paperwork, and a mannequin wearing a ball gown dress, just a few feet away from my desk. As a creative director's assistant, it's more than I could have asked for.

The computer finishes booting up, but I'm not entirely sure what to do next. I'll have to wait until Ann shows up and provides some guidance on our tasks for the day.

I hear footsteps in the corridor, and I can't quite tell whether they're from a man's or a woman's shoes. I simply wait for the person to appear.

"Hey there," he says, revealing himself as a man. I glance at his shoes, which are quite distinctive. I lift my gaze to find him smiling at me, and my apprehensions about working with the employees here begin to fade.

"Hi," I reply, returning the smile. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk, while he casually slides a hand into his pocket.

“I am Roman Parker, the company's graphic designer, “ he introduces himself briefly and places a cup of coffee on my desk. It's a kind gesture, and I'm grateful for the caffeine boost. I haven't slept much due to my eagerness and anxiety about my first day.

"It's coffee, for you. Welcome to the Felda family," Roman says, his warm smile making me feel right at home. I smile back and take a closer look at the cup, which has "Welcome Aboard" written on it. It's a small but heartwarming gesture, and I already feel honored to be part of this new team.

"I'm Hazel Scott. And thank you for the coffee," I say politely, taking the cup from Roman. I savor the aroma for a moment before taking a careful sip. He nods in acknowledgment, a friendly smile gracing his lips. For a brief moment, he gazes at me, and I return his gaze before he looks away and clears his throat.

"Well... I'll see you around?" he asks.

I'm eager to learn more about the company and what lies ahead for me, but it seems like I'll have to wait until Ann arrives. She didn't spend the night at home, presumably visiting her sisters. As a result, she's not here yet, leaving me to face my first few moments at the company on my own.

Just as I start feeling a bit lonely, Ann makes her entrance, accompanied by a lady who appears to be around our age. The newcomer smiles at Roman and then shoots me a glaring look that feels like a dagger to the heart. An enemy already? I've barely been in the building for twenty minutes, and I've already earned the ire of a stranger.

Ann notices the unfriendly encounter and laughs it off, waving away the tension. She settles into her chair, which happens to be right beside mine, a setup that promises both the delight of having my best friend at work and the potential for our gossips and infectious laughter to get us fired.

Roman bids us a quick farewell and hurries away, leaving me with a sense of intrigue about the enigmatic encounter.

"Hey," I greet Ann as she unpacks her purse, clearly exhausted. She sighs and secures her hair into a ponytail.

"Can I have a sip of your coffee?" Ann asks. I glance at the coffee and then back at her, deciding that she probably needs it more than I do.

I nod, handing her the cup. She takes a grateful sip. "This is so good," she comments, taking another, longer sip. I watch her finish the coffee and dispose of the cup, realizing that Ann indeed needed that caffeine boost.

"Sorry about that, bitch. That was Katina, the Textile designer. She's quite the character," Ann informs me, clearly annoyed. "Just beware of her; she can be a real piece of work."

I laugh softly and shake my head. "Sounds like she's a handful," I reply, agreeing with Ann's description of Katina.

Ann continues, "Amanda has four meetings today, which means she's going to be cranky as hell before the third meeting and will probably be breathing down our necks all day. I'm trying to see if I can reschedule two of them to Wednesday, but it seems like she has to attend all four since they paid extra for a personal meeting with the creative director."

I'm eager to learn more about Amanda, the company, and the upcoming challenges of my new job. As I listen to Ann's tales of the office dynamics, I feel a mix of excitement and trepidation, not knowing quite what to expect as my first day unfolds.

Ann explains all the intricacies of working for our boss, Amanda Amerigo, the formidable Creative Director and owner of Felda Fashion House. I try to absorb all the information, but it's a deluge, and I'm thankful when Ann offers to email me the month's working schedule for me to peruse. I nod in agreement, eager to start learning the ropes.

However, my phone chimes from within my purse, and I hastily retrieve it. It's almost always my boyfriend or my overbearing mother who contacts me, and neither is a welcome interruption.

My relationship with my mother is strained, to say the least, as she sees me more as a money-making machine than an independent adult. The calls, texts, and surprise visits from her tend to disrupt my life. I've even moved apartments multiple times just to escape her watchful eye.

I let out a relieved sigh when I see that it's a text from my boyfriend, Chris. I haven't had the chance to speak to him this morning, and it's not yet nine—why is he already wondering about my day? Chris has a laid-back attitude that can be both endearing and exasperating. He has certainly helped me in the past, especially during our college years, and I've grown accustomed to his peculiar ways.

Ann, in a tone that suits her professional environment, scolds me for having my phone out. Amanda's strict no-phone policy during work hours has caught me off guard. I hastily place my phone back in my purse and feel a sense of dread for breaking a rule on my very first day.

Amanda's abrupt entrance exacerbates my anxiety. I hadn't even noticed her arrival, absorbed in my own world. Her scrutiny, starting from my head down to my toes, is unnerving, and I'm unsure if her smirk is a good or bad sign.

As she walks away, her heels clicking on the floor, I can't help but watch her depart. I have a sinking feeling that the atmosphere around Amanda is one where expectations are high, and mistakes are not taken lightly.

Feeling flustered, I lower my gaze, reminding myself to be more composed. When Amanda finally addresses us, she instructs me to email her the day's meetings and then leaves. I feel a mixture of nervousness and excitement—this is definitely not the typical day at a nine-to-five job.

Ann sighs and turns her attention to me. I sense that this might be a challenging day. The air conditioning is cooling the room, but my nerves make me feel sweaty. I long to remove my blazer but fear it might not be appropriate. The unspoken rules at Felda are proving hard to grasp.

With a deep breath, I power up my computer and check the email Ann sent me. But as I go to forward Amanda's schedule, I realize I don't know Amanda's email address. I groan inwardly, afraid that my first day is off to a terrible start. My panic surges once again.

Ann, usually the playful type, surprises me with her seriousness at work. Her reminder about Amanda's watching eye, the camera, has me feeling exposed and self-conscious. I wonder how I'll be able to concentrate now. It's clear that at Felda, work is serious business.

Ann explains further, providing me with insights into how things work at the fashion house. We talk about our dream of opening our own fashion house one day, achieving record numbers of clients worldwide, and having the financial freedom to shop without checking price tags.

Despite the rocky start to my first day, the dream of creating our own fashion empire brings a glimmer of hope and excitement. I feel a renewed sense of determination to make this dream a reality.

Two hours pass, and Amanda emerges from her office, prompting us to make our way to the meeting hall for an upcoming client appointment. It turns out to be a bride with a vision of a simple yet glamorous dress. Surprisingly, Amanda encourages me to share my ideas. At first, I felt nervous, but she assured me that I should feel free to contribute.

Contrary to my initial expectations, Amanda turns out to be quite pleasant and receptive. Ann, had warned me that Amanda could be rather challenging when stressed or facing looming deadlines.

However, this Amanda, who openly embraced our creative ideas and designs, was a pleasant surprise. The bride, equally excited by the proposal, decided to choose our concept for her dress.

Following the meeting, we headed to the cafeteria for lunch, and the change of scenery was a welcome break from the office. As we navigated through the crowded room, Ann took the opportunity to inquire about my thoughts on my new job. “How’s your first day? And what do you think about this place?”

I couldn't hide my enthusiasm as I gushed about how much I loved my new role. “I mean even though it is not entirely what I hoped for, I still love it.”

Ann's encouraging words, "I think Amanda is really impressed with you," filled me with a sense of achievement. If Amanda recognized my efforts on my very first day, it was indeed something to celebrate.

I decided to order waffles for lunch, even though it was an unconventional choice for this time of day. As I savored my meal, a message notification on my phone interrupted my meal. I noticed it was from my mother, and my heart sank. The message spelled trouble and danger.

“Oh God,” I mumbled, staring at my phone in horror. My initial instinct was to leave and help her, but that was not feasible. I still had six hours left in my workday, and I couldn't request to leave early on my very first day. My hands trembled, and I had to gulp down the anxiety building in my throat.

Ann, who had been observing me, voiced her concern, “Hey, everything alright?”

I snap my head at her and flash her a small smile. “Ye-yeah, I’m fine… just… my mother again…” I said, trying as much as I could to stay calm but it was too much to just pretend.

In a desperate attempt to divert my thoughts, I took another sip of my orange juice. But another message notification made my heart lurch once more. As I checked my phone, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. It was another message from my mother, and this one was even more alarming.

I excused myself and headed to the bathroom to read the message in private. The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and tears welled up in my eyes. My hands shook uncontrollably, and my heart pounded against my chest.

A call came in from my mother, but I couldn't recognize her voice. Instead, a stranger spoke while I heard my mother wailing in the background. The voice conveyed the dire situation she was in. Her plea for help tore at my heart.

“They are going to kill us both if you’re not here!!”

My heart goes down to my stomach when I hear my mother say that.

“Heard that? That is your mother and you will not hear from her again if you waste more time.” They end the call. Rush of panic surges in me as I tried calling again but it wasn’t going through.

My mother had relapsed into gambling behind my back and now faced severe consequences. I had vowed not to help her again after she had squandered my deceased father's savings on gambling. But the sound of her crying, her anguish, pulled at my empathy, making it impossible to turn my back on my mother's desperate plea for assistance.

Panic raced through me as I hurriedly grabbed my purse and bolted from the office, not taking a second to explain my abrupt departure to Ann or Amanda. I couldn't let a moment go to waste; my mother was in grave danger, and I couldn't stand idly by while she suffered.

I heard Ann calling my name, her voice filled with worry, but I couldn't afford to respond. I had no time to lose. Rushing out of the building, I hailed a cab and directed the driver to take me to the one place where my mother was held captive—Sandro Casino.

With each passing moment, my fear intensified, and my mind raced with countless thoughts. The unfamiliar, raspy voice on the phone had sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't bear the thought of something terrible happening to my mother. I was determined to do whatever it took to rescue her from this perilous situation.

As the cab sped toward the casino, my heart pounded with anxiety, and I couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. My mother's well-being hung in the balance, and I had to act swiftly to ensure her safety.

SANDRO CASINO!