Breaking Billionaire Rules

Isla’s POV “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, her nails clicking against the keyboard like a countdown. She hadn't looked up until I approached her. Her face didn't wear a smile, blonde bob with a bored expression. She was serious with her duty like her life depended on it. “Isla Morgan. I'm starting today. Intern for department 7A.”It was my first day at work and I could feel the hectic day ahead already. My mom had jumped for joy when I told her I finally got accepted for an internship at Blackwell Enterprises. She was the one who advised me to not give up and try my luck after I left my own startup in pieces and rewired my entire life around getting into Blackwell Enterprises. I hadn't slept more than four hours in weeks, prepping, pitching, pretending not to be terrified. Camilla would always scold me against overwhelming myself with work, as she believed I was more than qualified for the job. “You are either coming to tell me you got the job by the time you are back or I'm going over there myself to show them you have a friend that doesn't take ‘NO’ for an answer.” She had jokingly said on the day of my interview. Camilla!. My long time friend and roommate. We have been friends since high school and our friendship has been the best thing that has happened to us ever since. And now, I am here, at the job I'd clawed to get. This was the dream. “ID?” the receptionist asked impatiently, jolting me back from my thoughts. I slid my badge across the counter with fingers that only barely shook. She glanced at the card, then at me. Something flickered between her eyes – judgement or indifference, I couldn't tell. “You're early.” “I figured being early wouldn't hurt.” I said to her, forcing out a smile. Another beat passed. “Take the elevator on the left. Two doors down from the executive wing. Don't touch anything. Don't get lost. And don't be late when they call you.” Noted. I walked through the corridor like I knew where I was going. Every inch of the hallway was engineered to intimidate. Lightings and arts that probably cost more than my student loans. I stepped out of the elevator, went straight towards the executive wing like the last had instructed but I wasn't sure which door to open. There were two rooms facing each other and one of them had to be the waiting area, I had no idea which one it was. I instinctively opened the one on the left wing, trying to confirm if that was the waiting area. But as I clicked the door open, there were two men in suits, mid-conversation. They seem to be having some sort of disagreement and didn't notice me at the door. I startled for a minute. This wasn't the waiting room. The room was polished with expensive furnitures, with the image of one man widely displayed in a big frame at the center of the room. I looked at the picture closely and alas, it was the same man sitting directly in front of the other man who seemed to be greatly pissed at the moment. This must be the famous Ethan Blackwell I've always heard about. I'd seen his photo on the cover of Forbes, in shareholders decks and financial gossip blogs. But none of those pictures came close to this. The man standing in front of him had a striking resemblance to Ethan. “He must be some relatives.” I thought to myself. I was spending almost a minute at that spot already and these men don't even seem to notice my presence at all. “I have told you multiple times not to meddle in businesses outside your jurisdiction. I think I'm capable enough to protect shareholders’ interest.” Ethan said. “Why don't you just focus on overseeing the branch I assigned you to?” “Yeah. Like you did the last time until the company almost collapsed. I hope you remember that aside being the Executive Vice President of this company, I am also your older brother. I can't watch you make decisions that will affect this company again. Never again.” Older brother? Then this must be the famous Julian Blackwell, the older brother to Ethan and the oldest son in the Blackwell dynasty. There had always been controversies in the news surrounding the brothers about their relationship with their father. People had always speculated Ethan to be the black sheep and Julian, the favorite son. But then, rumours are just rumours right?!. “Get out of my office right now, Julian.” Ethan said angrily, now standing from his seat. Alright, now I have heard enough. I slowly turned to go back outside, it was just my first day at work and I was already at an office I wasn't supposed to be in, listening to a conversation that I was never supposed to hear. As I quietly moved towards the door and turned the door knob, trying to make sure the Ethan and his brother don't notice me. I didn't spot a mopping stick and bucket just right beside the door and mistakenly hit it hard with the tip of my heels. The force sent both the bucket and the mopping stick flying to the ground, which made a bang so loud that I could hear it echo throughout the room. Gosh! My jaw dropped with shock and shame as I was sure both men must be staring at me right now. I wish I could just disappear at the spot. “And you are?” I hear one of them ask, they had both stopped screaming at each other and and I was very sure their attention was now on me. I turned to face the men, embarrassment written all over my face. “Isla..” I hadn't even said my name when the one who I now know to be Julian Blackwell cut me off. “Oh, let me guess. Another Serena Vaughn.” I was confused at what he meant by that. “Excuse me sir?” “Tread carefully, Ethan. Don't forget people are keeping a close watch this time around.” He said mockingly to Ethan, an evil grin on his face as he walked past me and made his way towards the door. “You were saying?” Ethan asked, ignoring his brother and facing me directly. “Isla Morgan.” I inhaled sharply. “Intern for department 7A. I was directed here by the receptionist but I can't find the waiting room, I'm sorry I barged into your office.” He looked at me as if trying to confirm if what I just said was true. “It's alright Ms. Morgan. I'm Ethan Blackwell, the CEO of this company. Welcome to Blackwell Enterprises. The waiting room is right opposite this office.” He looked too composed for the same man that was crashing out moments ago. “Thank you, sir.” I said boldly, trying not to look intimidated at all. I made my way to the door of the waiting arena. As I stepped in, I adjusted the blazer I'd ironed three times this morning, even though it didn't wrinkle. My heels clicked a little louder than I liked, drawing eyes and uninterested glances from men in tailored suits and women with surgically perfected cheekbones. No one smiled. No one hesitated. Good, neither would I. There were five other interns in the lounge area. All of them were male, and they were trying too hard to look like they weren't trying at all. One wore a designer watch so big it practically screamed nepotism. Another was reading a copy of the Economist like it was a casual Sunday morning material. I sat in the empty seat farthest from the door. No one looked up or greeted me. One guy even sneezed and didn't even excuse himself. Gosh. I'm really going to ‘enjoy’ this job.