The Billionaire's Secret Secretary

The eviction notice was taped to Charlotte Hayes's door. She stared at it for a long moment, the words blurring together. Final warning. Three days. Payment required. Three days. The paper was white. The letters were black. The message was clear. Charlotte reached out and touched it. The tape was cheap. The paper was thin. It felt like her whole life was falling apart. She unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside. The place was small—one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that was really just a corner with a stove. The furniture was old. The walls were thin. She could hear her neighbor's television through the wall. Some kind of game show. People laughing. Charlotte dropped her keys on the counter. They clattered against the cheap laminate. She opened her laptop. Her bank account balance appeared on the screen. $47.82 Charlotte closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She opened them again. $47.82 Still there. Still real. Still not enough. She had been rejected from twelve jobs in two weeks. Twelve. She had applied to offices, restaurants, retail stores, even a gas station. She had worn her only nice blazer to every interview. She had smiled until her face hurt. She had said thank you for your time again and again. Everyone said the same thing. We'll keep your resume on file. We've decided to go with someone else. You're overqualified. You're underqualified. We're not hiring right now. Charlotte closed her laptop. The screen went dark. She walked to her tiny kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The cold air hit her face. Inside was half a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a carton of milk that expired three days ago. She closed the refrigerator. Her phone buzzed. A text from her landlord. Don't ignore the notice, Charlotte. I need the money. She typed back: I'm working on it. She wasn't working on it. She had no idea what to do. Charlotte sat on her couch—which was really just a futon she had found on the side of the road—and put her head in her hands. She was twenty-six years old. She had a degree in business administration. She had three years of experience as an administrative assistant. She was smart. She was hardworking. She was trying. But none of it mattered. She had no money. No family. No safety net. Her mother had died when she was ten. She remembered the hospital room. The white walls. The machines beeping. Her mother's hand in hers, getting colder and colder. She remembered crying. She remembered being alone. Her father had never been in the picture. She didn't even know his name. Her mother never talked about him. She had been on her own since she was eighteen, working dead-end jobs, taking night classes, scraping together enough to survive. She had waitressed. She had cleaned houses. She had worked retail during the holidays. She had done everything she could. And now she was going to lose everything. Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Sophia. Charlotte answered. "Hey." "You sound terrible," Sophia said. "Thanks." "I mean it. What's wrong?" Charlotte hesitated. She didn't want to complain. She didn't want to be a burden. But Sophia was her best friend. Sophia had been there for her through everything. Sophia had held her hand when her mother died. Sophia had let her sleep on her couch when she had nowhere else to go. "I'm going to lose my apartment," Charlotte said. "I can't find a job. I have forty-seven dollars in my bank account. And I don't know what to do." Sophia was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Okay. First of all, breathe." Charlotte breathed. "Second of all," Sophia continued, "I might have something." "What?" "Sterling Enterprises is hiring." Charlotte laughed. It was a bitter, hollow sound. "The billionaire's company? Sophia, they're not going to hire me." "They're looking for a personal secretary for the CEO. The old one retired. I saw the posting online." "I'm not qualified." "You are qualified. You have three years of experience. You're organized. You're smart. You're perfect for it." "Sophia—" "Just apply. What's the worst that could happen?" Charlotte thought about it. The worst that could happen was another rejection. Another email saying we've decided to go with someone else. Another blow to her already shattered confidence. Another night of crying herself to sleep. But what choice did she have? "Fine," she said. "I'll apply." "Good. Do it tonight. Don't overthink it. Just send your resume and go to sleep." Charlotte hung up. She opened her laptop again. The screen flickered to life. She found the job posting. Sterling Enterprises Personal Secretary to the CEO Full-time. Competitive salary. Benefits included. She read the requirements. Five years of experience preferred. Excellent organizational skills. Ability to work in a fast-paced environment. Discretion and professionalism at all times. Charlotte had three years of experience, not five. But she applied anyway. She uploaded her resume. She wrote a short cover letter. She clicked submit. It was 2:14 in the morning. Charlotte closed her laptop. She lay down on her futon. She stared at the ceiling. The neighbor's television was still on. The game show was over. Now it was the news. Something about a billionaire. Something about a company. She didn't pay attention. Please, she thought. Please let this be something. She didn't expect anything. She never did. Hope was dangerous. Hope led to disappointment. Hope made you believe in things that never came true. But she fell asleep anyway, dreaming of a life where she didn't have to worry about money. A life where she didn't have to count every penny. A life where she was safe. She didn't know that across the city, in a penthouse high above the streets, a man was staring at her name on a screen. She didn't know that he had been waiting for her for eighteen years. She didn't know that everything was about to change.