Gabriella's POV

The next day, I woke up earlier than usual, my heart racing with a mixture of hope and nerves. Today was the interview at Smith’s Group. I stared at the poster I had clutched like a lifeline last night and reminded myself: this could be my chance to fix everything. To pay for Grandma’s surgery, to start over, to prove that I wasn’t just someone who stumbled through life.

When I stepped outside, the taxi ride felt longer than it should have. I kept looking out the window at the towering buildings of the financial district. I had never been anywhere like this before. The sidewalks were filled with people in sharp suits and heels, I swallowed nervously.

The building itself took my breath away. Its lobby was massive, and a receptionist desk that looked more like it belonged in a hotel than a corporate office. I hesitated at the entrance, feeling out of place in my plain outfit, clutching my small handbag tightly.

“Relax, Gabriella. You’ve got this,” I whispered to myself, stepping forward.

I felt eyes on me. I turned to see a woman standing near the elevator, her expression frozen in thinly veiled judgment. She was tall, blonde, perfectly put together in a fitted designer dress, heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. Her lips curled into a smirk as she glanced me up and down.

“Well, that’s… an interesting choice for an interview,” she said in a sing-song tone, her voice dripping with mockery.

I froze for half a second, then straightened my back. “Interesting? Thanks. I like to stand out,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Her smirk faltered. “You… you really do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

I crossed my arms, refusing to let her rudeness slide. “Well, someone has to bring some originality. Not everyone can wear designer dresses and heels, you know.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and then narrowed. “Excuse me? Did you just—”

“Yes, I said it,” I interrupted, my voice firm. “If you’re trying to intimidate me, it won’t work.”

Her face flushed, and she stormed toward the elevator, muttering under her breath. I couldn’t help smirking to myself, feeling a rush of satisfaction. One problem down.

Taking a deep breath, I had never interviewed at a place like this before—luxurious, professional, intimidating.

I stepped into the waiting area. Immediately, I noticed a line of women who looked like they had walked out of a fashion magazine. They glanced at me as I walked in, I felt their whispers prick at me.

“What is she wearing?” one of them murmured, a high, nasal tone that made my skin crawl.

“She… looks like she just came from the grocery store,” another added, laughing softly.

"The CEO will definitely throw her out."

murmurs erupted but I didn't care.

I straightened my shoulders. “Good for me,” I muttered under my breath. “At least I’m not a fake doll.”

They snickered again, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

From behind the glass doors leading to the CEO’s office, I could hear snippets of voices. Some were hushed, some were sharp. I caught the sound of someone crying. My stomach sank.

“Crying?” I whispered to myself, curiosity mingled with a pang of dread. I couldn’t see who it was, but the sound made my palms sweat. “What the hell…?”

A moment later, one of the women in the waiting Ine stepped out. Tears streaked her flawless makeup as she wiped her face and muttered angrily, “That man is impossible! I can’t deal with him!”

I felt a shiver run through me. Was this normal?

I glanced at the other women, who were now whispering among themselves, some smirking, some biting their lips nervously.

I hugged my bag to my chest, whispering to myself, “Okay, Gabriella. Don’t panic. You know what you can do. You can handle it.”

A tall gentleman called a name.

I adjusted my skirt and smoothed my blouse. “It’s my turn soon,” I muttered to myself. “Just be yourself. Show the CEO what you can do. Don’t let him scare you. You’ve survived worse than this.”

And as the CEO’s door loomed in front of me, I whispered one last reminder to myself: “You can do this. You will do this. For grandma.”

As I entered and gently closed the door. My eyes immediately landed on the arrogant man who got me fired.

Oh shit.

My heart pounded. Palms sweaty.

“You!” He growled. His eyes narrowing at me.

"Hello," I waved nervously. His intimidating aura oozing out.