The Billionaire’s Intern

Chapter 6: Three Lives, One Chance

Maya didn’t move for a while after the pitch meeting ended.

People trickled out of the glass conference room in composed silence, papers rustling, heels clicking, chairs scraping softly against polished floors. Damien Blackwood didn’t look back—not that she expected him to. But the weight of his gaze lingered like a burn on her skin, impossible to ignore.

She waited until most of the crowd had dispersed before standing. Her knees felt stiff, like they’d locked from sitting too long in tension. The nerves, the secondhand power, the almost unbearable stillness of being seen—even if for just a second—had exhausted her more than the lack of sleep ever could.

Harper was waiting just outside, sipping from a comically oversized water bottle shaped like a milk carton.

“You survived,” she said with a smirk. “No visible wounds. I’m impressed.”

Maya tried to smile, but her voice came out thin. “Barely.”

Harper fell into step beside her as they walked back toward their desks. “You looked like a deer on the edge of cardiac arrest in there.”

“That obvious?”

“Sweetheart, if I’d had a stress ball, I’d have chucked it at you halfway through Blackwood’s second sentence.”

Maya gave a soft laugh—more breath than sound—and dropped her bag beside her chair as she sat. Her fingers hovered over her keyboard, but she didn’t type anything.

Harper leaned over the edge of Maya’s cubicle, her plum hair flopping a little to the side. “Hey. You okay?”

Maya nodded, though it felt like a lie. “Yeah. Just a lot.”

“You did fine. Honestly, most interns pee themselves before the coffee even brews. You sat through a whole pitch without crying or vomiting. That’s gold-star behavior around here.”

Maya cracked a smile. “Thanks. I think.”

Harper gave her a friendly nudge. “Seriously. You didn’t speak, which is good. You didn’t faint, which is better. And you didn’t try to flirt with the boss, which is best.”

Maya’s cheeks warmed. “Why would anyone—”

“You’d be surprised. Blackwood could freeze a continent, and yet half the building would risk hypothermia to get his attention.”

Maya shook her head, glancing down at her notes. “Not me.”

Harper tilted her head, studying her. “You say that like you mean it.”

“I do.”

Harper tilted her head, studying her. “So… real talk. What’s your life like outside of this place?”

Maya blinked, caught off guard. “Um. It’s… a little packed.”

“Figured. You’ve got the look of someone running on caffeine and existential dread.”

“I work as a barista,” Maya admitted, half-laughing. “Four days a week. Full shifts. Then classes in the evenings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

“And Blackwood on top of all that?” Harper’s eyes widened.

“It’s temporary,” Maya said quickly. “Just for the duration of the internship. Besides, my schedule here is only three times a week starting next week. This full-week setup is just for orientation and onboarding.”

Harper blinked. “Wait—so you’re working full time, doing school, and this internship?”

Harper leaned back like she’d just watched a superhero transformation. “Damn. I complain when I have back-to-back meetings. You’re out here stacking lives.”

Maya smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

“No, but it’s badass,” Harper said with a wink. “And you didn’t even flinch during that meeting earlier. I’ve seen junior execs crumble just sitting across from the boss.”

“Trust me,” Maya muttered. “I was flinching on the inside.”

“You know they don’t pay interns much, right?” Harper asked gently, her voice softer now, eyebrows raised with something that looked more like concern than curiosity.

Harper didn’t say anything at first. She just watched her, the playfulness fading from her expression. “I only ask because… the hours you’re pulling? The stress? Most people can’t even handle one of those jobs, let alone three. And I know the kind of burn that comes from pushing past your limits for too long.”

Maya blinked, swallowing the lump that had started to form in her throat.

“It’s just…” Harper’s voice dropped even lower. “You shouldn’t have to fight this hard just to stay afloat.”

“I know,” Maya said, trying to keep her voice steady. “But it’s still… a huge opportunity. They only pick one student each year. Even if the stipend isn’t a lot, the benefits, the network, the experience—it could change everything.”

Harper studied her a moment longer, the teasing light dimming in her eyes. Something unreadable flickered across her face—like recognition, or maybe respect. Then she nodded slowly. “You’re tough.”

“I have to be.”

Harper leaned back in her chair, a low whistle escaping her lips. “That’s insane. You’re stacking three lives and still look like a functioning human.”

Maya smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Functioning is… generous.”

Harper tilted her head, her voice gentler now. “Damn, Maya. You ever sleep?”

“Sometimes,” she said lightly, though her chest tightened with the truth behind the joke. “I make it work. I have to.”

Harper’s expression shifted again—softer now, more careful, like she suddenly realized she was looking at someone stitched together with pure grit and no safety net.

“You’re doing all of this for someone, huh?”

Maya nodded, the answer already rising in her throat. “My little brother. Jamie. He’s… everything. I just need to get us to the other side of this.”

Harper blinked slowly, then exhaled like the words had winded her a little. “s**t,” she said softly. “That’s a lot, Maya.”

Maya said nothing. She just looked down, fingers tracing the edge of her desk, as if grounding herself to keep from unraveling.

After a moment, Harper straightened. Her grin returned—smaller this time, but sincere. “All right, gladiator. If you ever need to hide in the supply closet and scream, I’ll bring snacks. Something crunchy and emotionally satisfying.”

“Tempting,” Maya said, chuckling despite the ache in her throat. “Thanks, Harper.”

“Anytime. Oh—and word of advice?”

Maya looked up, catching the sudden shift in Harper’s tone.

“Keep your head down, but your ears open,” Harper said, her voice dropping just enough to feel like a secret. “This place has layers. With everything already going on in your life, trust me—workplace drama is the last thing you need.”

She glanced around, then leaned in a little closer. “Just do what you’re told, keep your focus, and you’ll be fine.”

Then she smirked. “Now me? I couldn’t care less what people think. When I started, they told me the same thing—blend in, be quiet, don’t ruffle feathers. But that’s just not who I am. I’m expressive. I’m colorful. I talk too loud and laugh too much. And guess what? I’m still here.”

Maya’s lips twitched, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Harper continued, her voice full of unapologetic pride. “I do my job. I do it well. So they can’t say a damn thing. I may not be perfect, but I’m not about to shrink myself just to make other people comfortable. You get me?”

Maya nodded slowly, a strange sense of relief blooming in her chest.

“Everyone’s a little careful around the boss,” Harper added with a shrug. “Okay—maybe not scared, but definitely… cautious. Me? I still do me. And hey—” She raised her hands like it was proof. “Still here. Still breathing. Still fabulous.”

Maya’s pulse jumped—not from fear, but from the realization that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to lose herself to survive this place.

Harper tapped the edge of the cubicle once, then wandered off toward her own desk, humming something upbeat that clashed wildly with the tension still twisting in Maya’s stomach.

Alone again, Maya stared at her monitor.

It was just her third day.

But already, the world around her felt like it had shifted on its axis. Nothing felt stable—not the desk, not the routine, not even her breath.

Six months.

That’s how long the internship would run. Six months to make it count. Six months of fighting exhaustion, smiling through uncertainty, and proving—somehow—that she deserved to be here.

Because if she could just get through it, maybe things would finally change.

A real opportunity. A new path. One that didn’t involve sleepless nights and constant panic over bills and Jamie’s prescriptions. One where she wouldn’t have to count coins at the register or pray the manager didn’t shorten her break again. One where she could finally breathe.

She exhaled slowly and forced herself to focus, even as her thoughts tangled in quiet panic.

She was tired.

Tired of stretching pennies and playing survival like a game she never signed up for.

Tired of worrying about Jamie’s meds, the overdue utility bills, the manager at the coffee shop who kept cutting her break short.

Tired of waking up every day afraid she’d never be enough.

But she couldn’t afford to break down.

Not now. Not when she’d finally gotten one thing right.

She exhaled shakily, rubbing her hands together to ground herself.

This internship was more than just a line on her resume.

It was hope.

A crack of light in the mess she’d been trudging through for years. If she did this right—if she endured the long hours, the cold stares, the impossible standards—maybe, just maybe, she could rewrite everything. For Jamie. For herself.

Because there had to be more than just barely getting by.

So she pushed the spiral of thoughts aside, blinked back the blur building behind her eyes, and opened the file she was supposed to review for the internal memo draft.

She refused to believe that survival was the best they could ever do.