Chapter 5 Desperate Enough to Win

Elena's POV

The Thorne Empire building stretched toward the sky like a glass monument to money and power.

I stood on the sidewalk, staring up at it, feeling impossibly small. Seventy floors of steel and ambition. People in expensive suits flowed through the revolving doors like they belonged there, like wealth was something they wore as casually as their designer shoes.

I wore my best outfit—a black pencil skirt and white blouse I'd found at a thrift store, pressed until the creases were sharp enough to cut. My shoes were scuffed but polished. My hair pulled back in a neat bun. I looked professional.

I looked like I was playing dress-up.

"You can do this," I whispered to myself.

A businessman brushed past me, already on his phone, already important. I took a breath and followed him through the doors.

The lobby was all marble and gold accents, cathedral-high ceilings, a chandelier that probably cost more than I'd earn in my lifetime. My footsteps echoed. Everyone moved with purpose, like they knew exactly where they belonged.

I didn't belong here.

But Leo needed me to pretend I did.

The reception desk stretched across the far wall, sleek and imposing. A woman sat behind it, perfectly made-up, perfectly pressed, looking at me like I was something tracked in on someone's shoe.

"Can I help you?" Her tone suggested she doubted it.

"I have an interview. With Victoria Thorne. Ten o'clock."

She glanced at her computer, expression unchanging. "Name?"

"Elena Moreno."

A pause. Then, "Fifty-third floor. Elevators on your right. Don't be late."

"Thank you."

She'd already dismissed me, returning to her screen.

I walked to the elevators, pressed the button, and tried to calm my racing heart. The doors opened. I stepped inside with three other people—all of them radiating confidence I didn't feel. They pressed their floors. No one spoke.

The elevator climbed. One by one, they got off, until it was just me, rising higher and higher.

Fifty-third floor.

The doors opened onto a space that was somehow more intimidating than the lobby. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Modern art on the walls. Everything white and chrome and expensive.

A desk sat near the windows. Behind it, a woman about my age with a perfect pixie cut looked up.

"Elena Moreno?"

"Yes."

"I'm Jenna, Ms. Thorne's current assistant. She's finishing a call. Have a seat." She gestured to a leather couch that probably cost more than my car—before it died and I had to sell it.

I sat. Smoothed my skirt. Tried not to fidget.

Jenna typed something, answered a phone call with practiced efficiency, then glanced at me. "Nervous?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Little bit." Her smile was sympathetic. "Don't be. Ms. Thorne is tough but fair. Just be honest."

Honest. Right. Except for the part where I was lying about being divorced.

A door opened. A man in an expensive suit walked out, looking relieved to be leaving. Behind him, a voice—clear, authoritative, female.

"Send in the next candidate."

Jenna stood. "That's you. Good luck."

I rose on shaking legs and walked through the door.

The office was enormous. More windows, more art, a desk that looked like it belonged in a museum. And behind it, Victoria Thorne.

She was younger than I expected—late thirties maybe, with sharp features, dark hair pulled back severely, wearing a navy suit that screamed power. She didn't look up from the file she was reading.

My resume. My lies.

"Sit."

I sat in the chair across from her desk, back straight, hands folded in my lap like I was at a job interview and not an execution.

Finally, she looked up. Her eyes were the color of slate—cold, assessing, missing nothing.

"Elena Moreno." She said my name like she was testing it. "College degree in business administration. Two years of 'diverse professional experience.'" She glanced at me. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I've worked in customer service, operations, time management—"

"You've worked retail and cleaning services."

My stomach dropped. She knew. Of course she knew.

"Yes," I said, because there was no point lying now.

"Why lie about it?"

"I didn't lie. I just... rephrased."

"Rephrasing is putting a positive spin on the truth. You made it sound like you've been managing projects when you've been mopping floors."

Heat flooded my face. "I have been managing projects. Every day is a project when you're working sixty hours a week and raising a child alone."

The words came out sharper than I intended. Victoria's eyebrow raised.

"You have a child?"

"A son. He's two."

"And the father?"

"Not in the picture."

"Divorced, according to your resume."

Another lie she'd caught. I lifted my chin. "Does it matter? He's not involved. It's just me and my son. Has been since he was born."

Victoria leaned back in her chair, studying me like I was a puzzle she couldn't quite figure out. "Why do you want this job, Miss Moreno?"

"Because I need it."

"Everyone needs a job. Why this one?"

Because I'm drowning. Because my son deserves better. Because I'm one crisis away from losing everything.

"Because I can do it," I said instead. "I know I don't have traditional experience. I know I don't fit the profile you're probably looking for. But I'm organized, I'm efficient, and I don't give up. Ever. You need someone who can handle pressure? I've been handling pressure since I was eighteen. You need someone discreet? I've spent my whole life being invisible. You need someone who won't quit when things get hard?" I met her eyes. "I don't have the luxury of quitting."

Silence filled the office.

Victoria's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. "You're honest. I'll give you that."

"When it counts."

A ghost of a smile. "You have a sharp tongue for someone desperate for a job."

"Would you hire someone who wasn't honest?"

"I'd hire someone qualified."

"Then hire me and I'll become qualified. I learn fast. I work harder than anyone you'll interview. And I'll never make you regret taking a chance on me."

Another pause. She tapped a perfectly manicured nail on my resume.

"The hours are long. Sometimes unpredictable. I travel frequently—you'd need to be available."

"I have childcare arranged."

"If I call you at midnight with an emergency?"

"I'll answer."

"If I need you to work weekends?"

"I'll be there."

"If I ask you to manage confidential information that could destroy careers if it got out?"

"It won't get out."

Victoria studied me for a long moment. Then she closed my resume and stood. I stood too, uncertain.

She walked to the window, looking out over the city. "I'm not an easy person to work for, Miss Moreno. I have high standards. I don't tolerate mistakes. And I expect absolute loyalty."

"I understand."

"Do you?" She turned, pinning me with that slate-gray stare. "Because the last three assistants quit within six months. They said I was unreasonable. Demanding. A perfectionist."

"Were they right?"

"Completely." No apology in her voice. "But I pay well. Very well. And if you can survive working for me, you'll never struggle to find work again. I'll make sure of it."

My heart pounded. Was she—?

"The salary is eighty-five thousand annually," she continued. "Full benefits, including health insurance that covers dependents. Two weeks paid vacation, though you'll rarely take it. And a performance bonus if you last a year."

I couldn't breathe. Eighty-five thousand. That was... that was everything.

Victoria studied me for another long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she stood, signaling the interview was over.

I stood too, my heart sinking. I'd pushed too hard. Been too honest. Too desperate.

"Thank you for your time," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady.

"We're interviewing several candidates," Victoria said, walking toward the door. "You'll hear from us by the end of the week."

End of the week. That meant more waiting. More uncertainty. More nights lying awake wondering if I'd blown my only chance.

"I understand." I extended my hand. "Thank you for considering me."

She shook it, her grip firm. "Miss Moreno."

"Yes?"

"Buy yourself some proper shoes before Monday. I have an image to maintain."

I blinked. "Monday?"

"Eight AM sharp. Don't be late." She opened the door, already moving on. "Jenna will handle your paperwork."

It took me a second to process. Then it hit me like a wave.

I got it. I got the job.

"Thank you," I said, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt. "You won't regret this."

"We'll see." She was already picking up her phone for the next call.

I walked out, legs shaking. Jenna looked up and grinned. "You got it, didn't you?"

"I think so?"

"I can tell. You have that look." She pulled out a stack of forms. "Welcome to the chaos. Fair warning—Victoria's a tough boss, but she's fair. Work hard, don't lie to her, and you'll be fine."

Don't lie to her. Guilt twisted in my stomach, but I pushed it down. I'd told the truth about everything that mattered. The divorce lie was... necessary. Just a small adjustment to make myself more palatable.

I filled out paperwork with shaking hands. Direct deposit information. Benefits enrollment. Background check authorization. Each signature felt like sealing a contract with a better future.

"The salary is eighty-five thousand annually," Jenna said as I signed. "Plus benefits. Health, dental, vision—covers dependents too if you need it."

I nearly dropped the pen. "Eighty-five?"

"Plus performance bonuses. Victoria pays well. She demands perfection, but she pays for it."

Eighty-five thousand. With benefits. I could afford rent. Heat. Food that wasn't just rice and beans. Leo could have new clothes, toys, maybe even preschool.

We could breathe.

By the time I left the building, the sun was higher, the city louder, everything brighter.

I'd done it.

I'd actually done it.

I pulled out my phone and called Mrs. Chen.

"I got the job."

"Of course you did," she said, like it had never been in question. "Leo's been asking for you. Come get him. Celebrate."

I took the bus back to her apartment, walked in, and Leo launched himself at me.

"Mama!"

I caught him, swung him around, laughing and crying at the same time. "We did it, baby. We're going to be okay."

He patted my wet cheeks, concerned. "Mama sad?"

"No, sweetheart. Mama's happy. So, so happy."

Mrs. Chen watched from her kitchen, smiling. "Told you. You're tougher than you think."

Maybe I was.

Or maybe I was just desperate enough to fight for what we needed.

Either way, it didn't matter.

Monday, I'd walk into Thorne Empire as someone who belonged there.

And I'd do whatever it took to keep that job.

For Leo.

For us.

For the future I'd promised him the day he was born.

Nothing was going to stop me now.