Chapter 1: The Surprising Interview

Elina’s POV

I stood in front of the towering ShieldTech skyscraper, utterly awestruck by its grandeur. Even though I had looked it up online and knew it was famous, seeing it in person still left me dazzled. Its sleek glass surface reflected the early morning sun, and the bold letters spelling out “ShieldTech” at the entrance cemented its status as a technological monument in Silicon Valley.

I checked my phone again, making sure I was in the right place. It all felt so surreal. Why was the interview for the Castro Family Office being held at ShieldTech? While I was certain ShieldTech wasn’t some shell company or scam, I couldn’t help but wonder if this so-called Castro Family Office was using ShieldTech’s location to pull off some kind of scheme.

But this was ShieldTech—the dream workplace for anyone in the industry. No matter what, I figured I should at least give it a shot.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my blazer, put on a confident smile, and stepped forward. As I approached, the massive automatic doors slid open silently, and I was immediately enveloped in the bustling energy of the lobby.

Once inside, I glanced around, trying to spot a sign for the “Castro Family Office.” But there was no obvious indication in the lobby. Frowning, I walked up to the reception desk.

“Hello. I’m Elena, and I'm here for an interview with the Castro Family Office,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and confident.

The woman didn’t even look up. Her fingers continued flying over the keyboard like I didn’t exist.

My smile faltered slightly, but I tried again. "Excuse me? Hello? Miss?"

Finally, she glanced up at me like I had just interrupted the most important task of her life. Her expression was unreadable, and her tone void of any warmth. "Welcome to ShieldTech. How can I help you?"

I repeated myself, trying to keep my voice steady. "Um, I'm here about an interview. It’s supposed to start in a few minutes, and I…"

She looked back at her screen, her nails clicking against the keyboard. She was not even listening.

"Excuse me, miss?" I said again, a little firmer this time.

She let out an exaggerated sigh and finally made eye contact, her expression hard and cold. "Please wait till you’re called upon." Then she immediately went back to typing, dismissing me.

I blinked, caught off guard by her rudeness.

I had to insist and ask again, "Miss, is the Castro Family Office located in this building? If I’m mistaken, please let me know."

She finally noticed me, paused for a few seconds as if thinking, and then suddenly realized, "Yes, there is such an office, on the basement level."

"I have an interview, and it’s—"

"Please wait for your number to be called for the interview," she interrupted me before I could finish, her response mechanical and cold.

Feeling utterly helpless, I decided to head to the restroom first. Fortunately, the building had clear signs that guided me there. Communicating with people here was so frustrating—is this what working in this company is like?

I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped inside. The silence offered a welcome escape from the cold, sterile atmosphere of the lobby. I leaned back against the counter, exhaling slowly before pulling out my compact mirror from my bag. The reflection staring back at me looked composed, but I could still feel the sting of the receptionist’s dismissiveness. I dabbed a bit of powder under my eyes and reapplied my lipstick with steady hands.

“It’s fine,” I muttered to myself. “This is what I signed up for.”

A tenfold salary—if I could secure it, any cold treatment would be trivial. I just had to power through. I gave myself a small, determined smile before putting my makeup away and stepping back out.

I returned to the lobby and found an empty chair near the entrance, sitting down. I clutched my resume folder in my lap, my foot tapping nervously against the floor. Just as I was starting to settle, the elevator doors at the end of the hall slid open with a ding. A woman burst out, her heels clacking urgently against the pristine marble as if she were racing against time. Her face was filled with anxiety, her gaze locked straight ahead toward the reception desk.

“How could you let her wait so long!” Her voice was sharp and rushed, almost scolding the receptionist. “Do you even know who she is? Do you know how much Mr. Castro values this interview?”

The receptionist was clearly intimidated. Her face instantly paled as she stammered, “I-I didn’t know… She didn’t clarify that it was for the Castro Family Office…”

“You didn’t know?!” The secretary’s voice was practically a roar. “This is your job! Can’t you handle even this?”

The receptionist lowered her head, her fingers nervously twisting together, clearly at a loss. The secretary shot her a fierce glare, then abruptly turned, her gaze locking onto me. Her expression shifted from anger to an exaggerated apology, almost like she had switched masks.

“Miss Vessels!” She practically rushed to me, her face plastered with an apologetic smile, though her voice still carried a hint of lingering urgency. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! This is entirely my fault. I should have arranged everything in advance!”

Her sudden enthusiasm caught me off guard, but I forced a polite smile. “It’s fine, really, I just…”

“No, no, this is completely my fault!” she interrupted, her tone dripping with exaggerated self-reproach. “If Mr. Castro finds out you’ve been waiting this long, he’ll be furious!”

Her words made my stomach tighten, but before I could respond, she grabbed my arm, practically dragging me toward the elevator. “We have to hurry. Mr. Castro is already waiting for you!”

Her pace was so fast I could barely keep up, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor. I felt like I had been swept into a sudden storm. As we passed the reception desk, I caught a glimpse of the receptionist, her head lowered, her face as pale as paper, her fingers still trembling slightly.

“I’m Rachel, Mr. Castro’s secretary,” the secretary said as she pressed the elevator button, her tone dripping with exaggerated eagerness. “It’s so nice to meet you. I hope we can become friends.”

Before I could respond, the elevator doors closed. The secretary’s face still wore that exaggerated smile, but her eyes betrayed a hint of tension and unease.

We walked to the elevator, and she pressed a few buttons. The doors slid shut behind us. Within seconds, the elevator shot upward, blasting through 60 floors so fast it made my ears pop.

When the doors opened, I was greeted by a floor packed with people. The hallway was lined with applicants, all waiting—some fidgeting nervously, others chatting in hushed voices. My heart sank. I knew the competition would be fierce, but seeing so many hopefuls in one place made my confidence waver. I tightened my grip on my leather portfolio and took a steadying breath.

Just as I slowed my steps to join the back of the line, Rachel, the secretary, turned to me with a frown. “What are you doing, Miss Elena? Mr. Castro is waiting for you.”

I froze, but she grabbed my arm and led me toward a massive set of double doors before I could respond. I hurried to keep up, my heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. As we passed the other applicants, they turned their heads, some whispering, others staring outright. I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

The room was vast, modern, and intimidating, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. But none of that held my attention. Sitting behind a sleek black desk was none other than Isaac Castro.

I froze.

It was really him! Isaac Castro. Billionaire. Business tycoon. The man who controlled ShieldTech! The last time I’d seen him was on the cover of *Time* magazine, with the headline declaring he had ushered in a new era.

There was no interview panel, no other executives—just him.

He looked up from the document in his hand, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “Please, come in.”

His voice was smooth and controlled, yet there was an undeniable intensity beneath it. I cleared my throat and forced my legs to move, walking toward his desk with as much poise as I could muster. I lowered myself into the chair opposite him and folded my hands in my lap.

“Good morning, Mr. Castro. I’m Elena Vessels. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, keeping my voice steady and professional.

He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile curling on his lips. “Good morning, Elena. Call me Isaac. No need to be so formal.” His tone was light, almost teasing. “You look exactly as I imagined—maybe even better.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his casual tone. “Thank you… Isaac.”

He chuckled, his gaze softening with a hint of nostalgia. “Do you remember the last time we met?”

I frowned, trying to recall. “We’ve met before?”

He nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Yes, in Yosemite. You were climbing, and I happened to be passing by. That route you took wasn’t easy, but you made it look effortless.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “So you were there that day!”

“Fate works in mysterious ways,” he said, his voice warm. “Back then, you had this determined look in your eyes—just like you do now.”

I smiled, a little self-consciously. “That was years ago. I can’t believe you remember.”

“Some people and moments are hard to forget,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on me with a hint of something deeper. “By the way, do you still climb?”

“Occasionally,” I nodded. “Though with work, I only have time on weekends.”

“Work is important, but don’t forget to live,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his tone relaxed yet thoughtful. “What did climbing teach you?”

“It taught me how to face fear, how to stay calm under pressure,” I replied, a note of reflection in my voice. “And it made me realize that some paths, you only truly understand after you’ve walked them yourself.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with approval. “Well said. Life is a lot like climbing. Every step takes courage and focus, but the view at the top is always worth it.”

“It is,” I agreed, smiling as I felt a subtle shift in my perception of him.

He paused for a moment, his gaze resting on me as if he were weighing something in his mind. Then he stood, walked around his desk, and extended his hand. “Elena, welcome to the Castro Family Office.”

I stared at him, completely stunned. “I… I’m hired?”

“Yes,” he said, his smile warm and genuine. “Your resume, your attitude, your personality—they all tell me you’re the right person for this role. I hope you’ll accept the offer.”

I stood, shaking his hand, though I still felt a sense of unreality. “Thank you, Isaac. I’m truly honored.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, his tone warm and welcoming. “From now on, we’re colleagues. Oh, and—” He reached over to his desk, picked up a business card, and handed it to me. “Here’s my personal number. If you ever need anything, just call.”

I took the card, my hands trembling slightly. Today felt like a dream—one I hadn’t even dared to imagine.

“Thank you… Isaac,” I said, smiling.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his eyes meeting mine with a quiet intensity. “Elena, I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll do.”