Reclaimed by the Ruthless Heir

Chapter 2 – The Bistro Job

Aria POV

Three weeks.

That was how long it took for me to realize survival was far more expensive than dreams.

By the time I paid rent for my tiny apartment, bought instant noodles, and replaced the broken zipper on my only decent skirt, almost all my savings were gone.

I needed a job.

Desperately.

That was how I ended up standing nervously in front of Rosewood Bistro at seven in the morning with my résumé clutched tightly in my hands.

The restaurant was beautiful in a warm, elegant way. Golden lights glowed behind the glass windows while the smell of fresh bread and coffee drifted through the air.

People like me normally only walked past places like this.

Not inside them.

“You’re the new girl?”

I turned quickly and found a woman wearing a black apron staring at me.

“Yes,” I answered politely.

She looked me up and down before sighing. “Good. We’re short-staffed. Follow me.”

Just like that, I got the job.

The first few days were exhausting.

My feet burned from standing for hours. Customers snapped their fingers at me like I was invisible. Some complained about their coffee being too cold. Others complained because it was too hot.

Still, I endured everything with a smile.

Because every tip mattered.

Every dollar brought me closer to fashion school.

Every exhausting shift brought me one step closer to the future my mother wanted for me.

By the second month, I had learned how to balance three plates at once, memorize regular customers’ orders, and avoid the angry chef during busy hours.

“Table six needs cleaning!”

“Order for table three!”

“Aria, move faster!”

The entire bistro was chaos during lunch hours.

But strangely… I liked it.

The noise distracted me from loneliness.

At the end of every shift, I returned to my apartment, took out my mother’s sketchbook, and designed dresses until midnight. Sometimes I fell asleep with pencils still in my hand.

One rainy evening, I sat cross-legged on my bed sketching a dark red gown while eating cheap noodles.

Luxury.

Power.

Elegance.

Those were the feelings I wanted my future designs to carry.

Not weakness.

Not pity.

One day, I would create dresses for women who ruled rooms without speaking.

Women who survived.

My stomach growled loudly, interrupting my thoughts.

I laughed softly at myself before setting the sketchbook aside.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

I frowned.

Almost nobody called me.

The number was unfamiliar.

“Hello?” I answered carefully.

“Aria?” the bistro manager’s voice came through. “We’re short tonight. Can you cover an extra shift?”

I glanced at the clock.

I was exhausted.

My shoulders hurt.

But then my eyes landed on the small jar beside my bed filled with saved tips.

Not enough yet.

Far from enough.

“I’ll come,” I replied quietly.

After changing quickly, I rushed back through the cold streets toward Rosewood Bistro.

I had no idea that tonight would change my life forever.