The CEO's Exception

Chapter three

Two days is a dangerous amount of time.

One,Long enough to lose hope.

Two,Short enough to still expect miracles.

And three,just chaotic enough to make you question your entire life choices.

For me, it did all three.

Day one, I cleaned my apartment.

Not because I suddenly became responsible.

No.

Because when you’re waiting for life to decide your future, cleaning becomes a coping mechanism.

I folded clothes I didn’t even like.

Rearranged things that didn’t need rearranging.

Opened my fridge like it contained answers to my life problems.

It didn’t.

“Relax,” I told myself. “It’s just a job application. Not a life sentence.”

Pause.

“…although at this point, both feel equally dramatic.”

Day two was worse.

Day two is when your brain starts lying to you for entertainment.

What if they reject me?

What if I never recover financially?

What if I end up telling people I’m a “freelancer” but I’m actually just unemployed with confidence?

“Okay no,” I muttered, sitting up. “We are not spiraling into entrepreneurial despair.”

I turned on music.

Didn’t help.

Turned it off.

Worse.

So I did the only logical thing left.

I ordered food I absolutely did not need.

Because budgeting is a suggestion, not a rule.

By evening, I gave up.

I was lying on my bed, phone in my hand, pretending I was fine.

I wasn’t.

But pretending counts.

My phone buzzed.

I ignored it.

Because at this point, notifications felt like emotional attacks.

It buzzed again.

I sighed.

“If that’s another delivery update, I’m blocking capitalism.”

I picked it up.

Paused.

Voss Industries

Subject:

Application Outcome — Voss Industries

Silence.

Even my room went quiet like it wanted to witness this moment properly.

I sat up slowly.

“…okay,” I whispered. “Let’s see what life has decided.”

I opened it.

Dear Elena Cruz,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for the position at Voss Industries.

Further instructions will follow.

Welcome aboard.

I stared at it.

Once.

Twice.

Then I leaned back.

“…oh.”

That was it.

Just… oh.

Then I slowly said, “So I’m employed now.”

Pause.

“And I hope this isn’t one of those scams where they ‘welcome you aboard’ and then sell your soul.”

Then my phone buzzed again.

This time… attachment.

I frowned.

Downloaded it.

Opened it.

And froze.

“Wait.”

A cheque.

Digital.

Attached to the email.

I blinked.

“…what is this?”

I read the description.

Advance Payment — Urgent Role Compensation: $1,000

Silence.

Actual silence.

Even my thoughts paused like, excuse me?

I sat up straight.

“…email cheque?” I whispered. “That’s a thing?”

I stared at it longer.

Then slowly nodded.

“Rich people are terrifying.”

Another line in the email caught my attention.

Due to the urgency of this position, acceptance requires immediate availability. Failure to report may result in legal action.

I paused.

“…sorry?”

I read it again.

Slower this time.

Then blinked.

“So if I don’t show up… I get sued?”

A beat.

I leaned back.

“…okay, that’s slightly aggressive.”

Then I squinted at the screen.

“But also… kind of powerful.”

I looked at the $1,000 again.

Then at my empty room.

Then back at the email.

Slowly, my brain made peace with reality.

“This is good,” I said out loud.

Pause.

“I mean… very good.”

I nodded firmly like I had just signed a treaty.

“One thousand dollars upfront. A job. Stability. Maybe even respect.”

Then I added, softer:

“And I can stop eating food I pretend I’m not worried about paying for.”

I stood up.

Walked around my room like I had suddenly become a financially responsible adult.

“Okay Elena,” I said. “We are employed. We are powerful. We are… temporarily not broke.”

I stopped.

“…emphasis on temporarily.”

I looked at the email again.

Voss Industries.

The name sat there like it meant more than just a company.

Like it had weight.

Like it expected something from me already.

I shrugged.

“Whatever,” I said. “Worst case scenario, I get sued and become famous.”

Then I smiled slightly.

“But I doubt it. I’m too polite for crime.”

I lay back on my bed again, staring at the ceiling.

For the first time in days…

My chest didn’t feel tight.

Not relaxed.

Just… steady.

“Alright,” I whispered.

“New job. New life. No disasters.”

Pause.

“…hopefully.”

My phone buzzed one last time.

A final instruction:

Report to Voss Industries Headquarters. 8:00 AM sharp.

I stared at it.

Then groaned.

“Of course it’s 8 AM,” I muttered. “Rich people hate sleep.”

I rolled over.

Closed my eyes.

And for the first time in a while…

I actually tried to rest.

I actually have been rest but this is gonna be the real rest.