THE HEARTLESS HEIRS

FIRST DAY AT AURELIA

I showed up at AURELIA & CO at 7:58 AM in my only good dress, portfolio shaking in my hands.

The building was glass, gold, and scary. Like Asher.

The receptionist looked at me: "Zara Osei? Junior Designer? Seventh floor. They are waiting."

Seventh floor. The entire floor was one office. Seven desks. Seven men in suits.

All staring at me.

"You're late," Asher said without looking up from his computer. He was in a black suit today. Worse than the black t-shirt. So much worse.

"It's 7:58!"

"Meeting was at 7:55. You are 3 minutes late. In my company, 3 minutes costs us $10,000 in wasted time. Are you going to pay that?"

"I— I was told 8 AM—"

"I tell you when to be here. Not HR. I own HR," he cut me off. "Put your portfolio on my desk. And stand there. Don't sit until I tell you to."

Noah whispered, "Asher, go easy—"

"Did I ask you to speak, Noah?" Asher didn't raise his voice. He never had to. "You melted $20k of white gold yesterday. You don't get to talk about 'easy.'"

Noah shut up.

I put my portfolio on Asher's desk. He flipped it open like he was disgusted to touch it.

Page 1: My moonlight collection — silver rings with opal.

He stared for 2 seconds.

"Derivative. Saw this on Pinterest in 2019."

Page 2: My chain collection inspired by my mom.

"Too emotional. Jewellery is not about your mom. It's about money."

Page 3: My best piece — a gold necklace with a broken heart that fits back together.

He stopped. Stared longer.

Then closed the whole book and pushed it back to me.

"Amateur. You draw like a girl who watches too many K-dramas and thinks love sells. Love doesn't sell. Status sells. Power sells. s*x sells. Fix it by tomorrow or you're fired. And evicted. Your staff housing is tied to your job, remember?"

My eyes burned. I would not cry. Not in front of 7 CEOs.

"Anything else?" I said, voice shaking.

"Yes," Asher said, standing up. He towered over me. Controlling, cold. "Rule 1 at work: You don't speak in meetings unless I allow it. Rule 2: You don't show your designs to clients until I approve them. Rule 3: You don't look at me like that. Like you want to stab me. I pay you to design, not to have feelings."

He leaned in, voice low so only I could hear:

"You think because you live in my house you get special treatment here? You get worse treatment. Because I have to see your face at home AND at work. So prove you're not just another desperate pretty girl who thinks she can design."

I wanted to quit. Right there.

Then Leo, the youngest CEO, slid a small velvet box across the table to me.

"Open it," he whispered.

Inside was my broken-heart necklace. But made. Real. In gold.

"We made it overnight from your sketch," Leo said. "Because... because it's beautiful."

Asher glared at Leo. "Leo. My office. Now."

"But—"

"NOW."

Leo followed him into the glass office. We all heard Asher through the glass:

"YOU MADE A PROTOTYPE WITHOUT MY APPROVAL? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT GOLD COSTS? ARE YOU TRYING TO BANKRUPT US FOR A GIRL YOU JUST MET?"

Leo came out almost crying.

Asher came out like nothing happened and looked at me.

"Congratulations, Zara. Your first design is in production. And it already cost you $1,200 from your salary because Leo is an i***t. Welcome to AURELIA. Your desk is the small one by the printer. Don't touch anything."

He sat back down and started typing.

The other six CEOs looked at me like: _Welcome to hell. We live here too._

And I sat at the tiny desk by the printer, with my real gold necklace in my hands, trying not to cry while my heartless, mean, controlling boss CEO landlord pretended I didn't exist.

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