Chapter 3 Blair's POV

"Are you blind? You drove carelessly, splashing dirty water on me, and all you could say is why I was walking there? Tell me, where else should I walk if not there?" My voice trembled with anger as I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

His lips twisted into a disdainful smirk, "Just because you're rich, you think you can get away with anything! Well, hell no! Who do you think you are to question me on your arrogant behavior?"

"Who I am? You are yet to know. I don't have time for any drama right now," he said with nonchalance.

His full lips twisting into disdain, "Aren't you shamelessly making such a fuss because of a worthless dress? Huh?"

I retorted, "Oh really. Yes, it might be worthless to you, but I value what I have because I work hard to have them. Okay, Mr. Money?"

He dipped his hand into his right pocekt, and pulled out a bundle of dollar notes, waving them in my direction. "Here. This should be able to get you a new dress. Use the rest for your...personal needs."

Angered by his proud behavior, I slapped him hard across his cheeks, my hand stinging from the impact.

"Was I just slapped by you this low life commoner?" He asked, rage swelling up inside him.

"Yes, sure you were...and I'll do it again if you dare cross my lane," I said pointing a finger at him. I grappes the dollar notes from his outstretched hand and tore them into pieces, "I don't need your money. To hell with you and your money, arrogant fool."

As I walked past him, I purposely hit him by the shoulder.

********

I pulled out my best dress from the closet and got ready for my interview, staring at myself in the mirror. On the outside, I looked prepared, but on the inside, I was nervous. My stomach was churning with nerves, and my heart pounding in my ears.

"Blair, relax," I reassured myself, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to soothe my frayed nerves. "You are smart and brave...You can handle this."

But deep down, I couldn't stop thinking about all the problems I had to face. I needed money quickly for my grandmother's transplant surgery and to hire a new lawyer for my brother's case. Losing my job at the restaurant had made everything worse, and I was drowning in debt.

When I found a job opening at The Wyatts, a big fashion house, I decided to give it a shot. But that morning, I also had another interview lined up for a marketing role at a smaller company.

The job didn't excite me-the description was basic, the company wasn't well-known, and I was so discouraged that I thought about canceling the interview.

"What's the point?" I muttered to myself, feeling defeated. The thought of another rejection was too much to bear. As I sipped my coffee, I opened my email to send a polite withdrawal message to the company.

But as my fingers hovered over the keyboard, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I just sat there.

Just then, a new email notification popped up on my screen. To my utmost surprise, it was an invitation for a final interview-at the big fashion house, The Wyatts, where I had applied earlier.

********

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow on my bedroom. Today was no ordinary day. It was the morning of my job interview-the gateway to a new chapter in my life.

I stirred awake, a surge of excitement mixed with nerves coursing through my veins.

I got down from the taxi and paid the driver. Massive glass windows gleamed under the sunlight. The building's sharp and modern design was decorated by vines that climbed up the walls. The balconies were decorated with beautiful flowers.

I walked toward the archway supported by tall pillars. The whole place looked wealthy and I felt drawn to step inside and see what was there.

I stared at the building, nearly drooling in awe. Snapping back to reality, I realized it was nearly 8 a.m, and I rushed inside. Entering the reception area, I was so entranced by its splendor that I nearly let my bag slip from my grasp.

I continued walking as joy and happiness took over me-this was an opportunity I had been waiting for. If I thought the exterior decor was impressive, the interior decor was even more stunning.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I made my way across the lobby, my steps echoing softly on the polished floor.

As I approached the reception desk, I noticed the receptionist, a strikingly attractive young woman who seemed to be in her early twenties, engrossed in some paperwork.

"Good morning," I said, my voice steady, smiling warmly. "I'm Blair Rodrigo. I have an interview scheduled for today-this morning."

"You are welcome, Miss Rodrigo. The waiting area is on the third floor, second door on your left," the receptionist informed me.

"Thank you," I replied with a nod.

Upon reaching the waiting area, I saw many applicants who appeared more professionally dressed than I was. I couldn't help but feel a bit inferior, and my nervousness resurfaced.

As I took my seat beside a young woman who seemed to pass a judgmental glance my way, I heard a male voice call my name, "Is Miss. Rodrigo here?" He asked as he entered the waiting area.

"Yes, I am," I answered, my voice tinged with uncertainty. My brows knitted together in confusion as I pondered what might be happening.

"Come with me. The CEO is requesting a personal interview with you."

The eyebrows of the other applicants raised at the young man's words, equally surprised, just like I was.

Despite the swirl of apprehension clouding my thoughts, I acquiesced and trailed behind the man. We navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the corporate tower, our footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors.

I could feel the weight of the tension pressing down on my shoulders. Each step I took felt heavier than the last, as if the ground beneath me was slowly giving way.

After what felt like an eternity but was merely a few minutes, we reached a pair of imposing double doors. The brass plaque on the door gleamed under the corridor's ambient lighting, displaying the title "Chief Executive Officer" with an air of grandiosity.

The man accompanying me raised his hand and delivered a measured, courteous knock. A moment later, a voice emanated from within-a voice that was rich, and undeniably authoritative.

It held the unmistakable timbre of someone accustomed to command. "Come in," It said.

The floors were covered in plush Persian rugs, and the windows were framed with heavy curtains in a deep burgundy. The whole room screamed power and wealth.

As I scanned the room, my eyes fell upon a chair whose back was facing me. "Good morning, Sir...Ma," I said in a very low voice.

I could tell there was someone seated in it as I could see glimpses of dark, shining hair, but what I couldn't tell was why he or she had the chair turned away from me.

Patiently awaiting a response, I remained at my standing point, and soon the chair turned slowly.

I was faced with none other than the man who had splashed dirty water on me a few weeks ago.

"You!!" I exclaimed, shocked.

"It's a pleasure to meet with you again, Miss Blair Rodrigo," he greeted with a smirk, his tone full of mischief.