Chapter 6

That afternoon, while I was trying to figure out my next move, my phone rang.

An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen.

“Hello, this is Sevra Monace speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Monace. My name is Michael, Mr. Victor Haulette’s executive assistant. You've met him briefly yesterday.”

I straightened in my seat.

“Yes, I remember. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Mr. Haulette would like to invite you for an interview tomorrow at ten in the morning. Would that work for you?”

I blinked in surprise.

An interview? With the CEO himself?

Well, I certainly hadn't expected that.

“Tomorrow at ten? Yes, I'm available.”

“Excellent. Please come to Haulette Tower and let the receptionist know you're expected. I'll meet you in the lobby.”

“Understood. Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Michael.”

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before ending the call.

I stared at my phone for a moment, then smiled faintly.

Perhaps my luck was finally beginning to turn.

Or perhaps I was simply walking into another disaster wearing a nicer pair of shoes.

Only time would tell.

Since I lived relatively close to Haulette Tower, getting there the following morning was easy. A seven-minute taxi ride later, I found myself standing before the impressive entrance of one of New York's most prestigious corporate buildings.

Haulette Tower.

Even from the outside, the building radiated wealth and authority. Its towering glass facade reflected the morning sunlight, while suited employees streamed through the entrance with the kind of confidence that suggested they had never once worried about whether their next meal was affordable.

Lucky them.

I stepped into the lobby and immediately understood why the company had such a formidable reputation.

A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating polished marble floors and elegant furnishings. The entire space looked more like the lobby of a five-star hotel than the entrance to an office building.

This Haulette family must be ridiculously wealthy.

I glanced up at the chandelier.

If I owned a building like this, I'd probably spend half my time admiring it instead of working.

A foolish thought, perhaps. But after everything I'd been through, I had every right to dream a little.

I approached the reception desk, where a beautiful young woman greeted me with a professional smile.

“Good morning. How may I help you?”

“Good morning. I'm Sevra Monace. I'm here to meet Mr. Michael. He called me yesterday regarding an interview.”

“Certainly, Ms. Monace. Please have a seat while I contact him.”

“Thank you.”

I settled onto one of the sofas in the waiting area.

While I waited, I let my eyes wander around the lobby. The craftsmanship was exquisite, from the marble columns to the carefully arranged flowers. Whoever had designed this place clearly understood that luxury wasn't simply about spending money. It was about knowing where every detail belonged.

I was so absorbed in admiring the surroundings that I barely noticed someone approaching me.

“Sevra?”

The familiar voice made me turn.

My pleasant mood evaporated.

Anne.

The same HR manager who had dismissed me so mercilessly the day before.

She stood beside the sofa, looking at me as though she'd just discovered an insect crawling across her expensive shoes.

“Didn't you fail your interview yesterday?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

I glanced at her once before returning my attention to the lobby.

“I'm here for something. It's none of your business.”

Her expression immediately darkened.

“Excuse me? I'm asking you a perfectly reasonable question, and that's how you respond?” she snapped. “You're nothing but a low-class woman. Have you never learned basic manners?”

I slowly turned my head toward her.

“Who exactly are you to demand manners from me when you haven't shown me any yourself?”

For a moment, Anne looked as though she'd swallowed a lemon.

Then her face twisted with anger.

“How dare you!”

She grabbed my arm and tried to pull me to my feet.

“Chloe!” she called sharply toward the reception desk. “Get security! Have this woman removed immediately!”

I looked down at her hand gripping my arm.

Then I pulled free with a sharp movement.

“Don't touch me.”

My voice wasn't loud, but something in its coldness made her hesitate for a fraction of a second.

Anne's eyes burned with hatred.

The receptionist, Chloe, had frozen behind her desk. A few employees passing through the lobby slowed down, their curiosity getting the better of them.

Chloe finally found her voice.

“I'm sorry, Ms. Anne, but Ms. Monace has been invited here by Mr. Michael.”

Anne stared at her.

“What?”

“Mr. Michael personally arranged the appointment.”

The color drained from Anne's face.

“Why would Mr. Michael invite her?” she demanded. “She was rejected yesterday! I was the one who interviewed her!”

Her voice had risen enough to attract even more attention.

I remained seated, calmly smoothing the sleeve of my blouse where her fingers had wrinkled the fabric.

What a spectacular lack of emotional intelligence.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Getting into a public argument would accomplish nothing. I had more important things to worry about than a woman whose greatest talent seemed to be making herself unpleasant.

Besides, I had learned a long time ago that losing your temper was an expensive habit. It clouded your judgment, exposed your weaknesses, and gave other people exactly what they wanted.

I had no intention of giving Anne that satisfaction.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait much longer.

“Good morning, Ms. Monace. My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

Michael appeared from the corridor beside the reception desk.

He was a well-groomed man in his late twenties, dressed in a perfectly fitted suit. His posture was straight, and he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to operating in demanding environments.

His eyes moved between Anne and me.

“Is everything all right here?”

Anne immediately stepped forward.

“Mr. Michael, I was just trying to have this woman removed. She already failed her interview yesterday, yet she's still wandering around the building.”

Michael's expression changed.

He looked at Anne as though she had just said something profoundly foolish.

“Ms. Monace was personally invited by Mr. Victor Haulette.”

His voice was polite, but firm enough to silence the surrounding chatter.

“By Mr. Victor?” Anne repeated, her face paling.

“Yes.”

Michael turned to me.

“Ms. Monace, I'm very sorry for the inconvenience. There seems to have been a misunderstanding. Please, come with me.”

“Of course,” I replied pleasantly.

I rose from the sofa, adjusted my blouse, and followed him toward the elevators.

Before leaving, I glanced over my shoulder at Anne.

I gave her a small smile and a little wave.

“Bye.”

Her expression was priceless.

She looked ready to explode.

I turned away before she could say anything else.