Chapter 3: (The chaos)

 ELENA ‧𓍢☕ ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

5:03 AM.

Like any normal, well-functioning human being, I should have been asleep. Dreaming. Resting. Preparing to face the world like an actual adult.

Instead, I was wide awake, curled under my blanket, clutching a book like it was my oxygen, and kicking my feet, obsessing over a fictional man who had absolutely ruined me.

I turned the page, already knowing I was about to embarrass myself.

"You drive me insane Verena" he whispered, his fingers tracing slow circles on her wrist. "I can't think straight when you're near me."

She swallowed hard. "That sounds like a you problem, Aiden."

His lips curled into the faintest smirk. "It is. And yet... here I am, suffering for it."

I sighed dramatically, flopping onto my pillow. This was exactly why my standards were unrealistic.

Just as I was about to go back in for one more chapter because why not—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I yelled. Actually yelled as my alarm went off, nearly sending my soul out of my body.

I blinked at the clock. 6:00 AM.

Oh.

So.

I guess I never slept.

I stretched, letting out a long, dramatic groan. My body felt like a stiff board, all the hours of restless reading finally catching up with me. Great, I was officially late for everything.

I reached for my phone, scrolling through the mess of notifications—emails, texts, reminders, my bakery's order list. You know, the usual stress pileup. Then I stopped. One email was highlighted in bright yellow.

It caught my eye immediately, and for a second, I thought I was imagining things. I opened it, already regretting the decision.

The subject line hit me like a ton of bricks:

INTERVIEW CONFIRMATION – DESIGNER DIRECTION POSITION

SHIT.

I stared at the screen, blinking as if trying to make the words disappear. But they wouldn't.

It was today. Today. And I had completely forgotten about it.

And there I was, sending a quick text to Leah, letting her know she'd have to handle the bakery today.

And Sabrina.

She did this.

Of course, she did.

I could almost hear her voice in my head, full of satisfaction. "You'll thank me later, Elena."

All I could feel was this strange mix of disbelief and gratitude.

A chance like this didn't just land in my lap every day.

I slipped into a sleek black suit. A touch of mascara, a swipe of nude lipstick, and my hair straightened to perfection. Simple. Clean.

I grabbed my bag and headed straight to the city, Bellmont.

The second I pulled up to Eclipse Galleries, my jaw nearly hit the ground.

I stepped out of my car, the morning breeze lightly sweeping my hair as I stared up at the massive company. The building was huge—no, intimidatingly grand. For a few seconds, I actually thought I was at the wrong location. Maybe a five-star hotel? A billionaire's private vault?

Nope. Just the place I was about to walk into for an interview.

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and walked forward.

Before I could even process anything, a security guard approached me. Tall, serious-looking—the kind of guy who probably had a black belt in something.

"Good morning, miss. How can I help you?"

I pulled out my interview confirmation and handed it over.

He scanned it, nodded, and stepped aside. "You're clear to go. Follow the signs to the reception desk."

Alright. Here we go.

I stepped inside, my heels clicking against the polished floor.

And damn.

This place wasn't just rich. It was rich-rich.

The lobby alone looked like it belonged in a royal palace. The chandeliers? Massive. The floor? So glossy I could see my own reflection. The walls? Lined with art pieces that probably cost more than my entire life.

And the people? They walked like they owned the world, in fine suits.

I did a quick scan of the place, trying to keep my cool.

Alright, Elena. Act like you belong. Act like you didn't just mentally panic outside like a lost puppy.

I approached the reception desk, heart pounding. The receptionist barely looked up from her computer before asking, "Are you here for the interview?"

I blinked, suddenly feeling nervous. "Yes. That's me, Elena Valeria."

"Great," she said, her tone polite. "The interview will start in about ten minutes. If you go up to the twentieth floor, they'll be expecting you."

I nodded, pretending like I belonged here. A quick glance at my watch told me I was early—too early to be in the I'm-early-and-I-love-it phase. More like the I'm-early-and-I-don't-know-where-the-hell-I'm-going phase.

Minutes Later, I made my way to the waiting area, trying to calm my racing heart. Candidates were seated, some reviewing their resumes, others nervously tapping their feet.

A few minutes passed. Then—

"The interview process will now begin," a voice announced.

The first two candidates stood up and disappeared into the room.

I exhaled, gripping the edge of my bag.

Alright, Elena. Get it together. Just focus.

I sat there, fidgeting with my fingers nervously, when the door to the interview room swung open.

The first candidate practically stumbled out, his face as pale as a ghost.

"I shouldn't have told him that," he muttered, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what had just happened.

I blinked. Well, that's... concerning.

A moment later, the door opened again, and this time, a woman walked out. She looked like she had just been through an emotional blender.

"Gosh, I have never stuttered like this ever in my life," she said, pacing out of the room quickly.

I stared after her, half concerned, half wanting to laugh.

Well, if that was any indication of how things were going, I might just end up running out of here myself.

Then a voice called out.

"Elena Valeria?"

I stood, gripping the strap of my bag as I approached the door.

And then I froze.

Sitting casually at the far end of the room, posture relaxed, was him.

His gaze met mine, and for a second, everything stopped.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

My stomach dropped.

The man from that night.

A flash of memory hit me like lightning—

Screeching tires. Headlights slicing through the darkness. The sharp inhale of panic just before the impact. The echo of metal crunching against metal. My pulse hammering in my ears.

And then—him.

Cold, furious eyes locking onto mine under the dim streetlights. A gaze so sharp, so cutting, it had sent a chill down my spine.

Oh. You have got to be kidding me, not him again.