The Billionaire's Intern

Chapter 6

A half-eaten box of donuts sat on my bed. I picked at the frosting of a pink one while Leah lay beside me, silently scrolling through her phone.

I hadn’t gone back to class after the meeting with Crown Tech’s CEO. I didn’t have the will. Instead, I took a slow walk home, crashed on my bed, and stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever, but in reality had only been thirty minutes.

I played the encounter with Liam Westbrook over and over in my head, the embarrassment washing over me fresh each time. Eventually, I grabbed my phone and called Leah. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey bestie!” she chirped.

“Hey,” I said softly.

There was a pause. “What’s wrong?” Her tone dropped, instantly serious.

“It’s official, I’m cursed.” I sighed. “I must’ve wronged the universe in some terrible way. I didn’t get the internship spot back. He rejected me.”

“I’m on my way,” she said without missing a beat.

True to her word, ten minutes later, the front door clicked open. Leah stepped in, using the spare key I’d given her, a box of donuts in one hand and determination in her eyes.

She didn’t say anything at first, just walked straight to me and pulled me into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into her shoulder. “Your dad went out of his way for me, and I just... threw it away.”

Leah pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. “You don’t owe anyone an apology. Least of all some self-important CEO with a god complex. My dad offered the connection, but you earned the shot. He didn’t do you a favor, you deserved it.”

I smiled despite my mood. Leah always knew what to say.

“So what exactly happened in Westbrook’s office?” she finally asked.

I told her everything, especially how humiliated I felt walking out of there.

Leah scoffed. “Well, maybe he just doesn’t have the range to recognize a gem when he sees one.”

I gave her a look. “Please don’t hype me up right now. I’m emotionally fragile.”

“You know I'm being honest. Faye, babe there are other internships out there. You’re smart. You’re qualified. You’ll definitely get something better.”

Leah shifted beside me. “If you want, I could talk to my dad again… ”

“I don’t want your dad’s help,” I added quickly, already sensing where she was headed.

Leah shifted beside me. “But he could help, you know. Once I explain what happened… ”

“I can’t,” I said, cutting her off. “Not after blowing the last one.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but I shook my head. “Please, Leah. Just… don’t.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. We let the conversation end there, both reaching for another donut. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that only came with familiarity and quiet support.

Then my phone rang.

I glanced at the screen. Aunt Fiona.

Straightening up, I picked the call. “Hello, Aunt Fiona.”

“So you don’t care to know how I’ve been?” she replied sharply. “No calls, no texts?”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I’ve been busy… ”

A faint scoff cut through the line.

“Well, I need to see you,” she said. “There’s something important we need to discuss. It can’t be done over the phone. Come to the house when you’re free.”

“Aunt Fiona, what’s this about… ?”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, sighed, and let it fall to the bed.

Leah raised a brow. “What did she want?”

“She wants to meet. Says it’s important.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Of course she does.”

“Leah come on, she raised me,” I said quietly.

“That doesn’t mean you owe her a lifetime subscription to groveling,” Leah muttered.

I gave her a look, but she didn’t back down. “I’m serious, Faye. Just because she took you in doesn’t mean she gets to guilt-trip you every time.”

“She didn’t have to. Take me in, I mean.” My voice was softer now. “She could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, well, raising someone out of obligation isn’t the same as raising them with love.”

That stung a little because it wasn’t entirely untrue.

“I just… I don’t want to fight with her,” I said after a pause. “She sounded serious.”

Leah huffed, grabbing another donut. “She always sounds serious. Like she’s about to read the terms and conditions of your existence.”

I let out a laugh, short and tired. “You’re mean.”

“I’m honest,” she said, licking frosting off her finger. “Just promise me you won’t let her make you feel small.”

“I’ll try.”

“Try harder”

I gave her a weak smile. “For now, I just need to focus on school and finding another job. Fast.”

Leah gave me a side-eye. “You mean before the rent monster swallows you whole?”

I gave a short laugh. “It actually went up. Again.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Since when?”

“Got the notice yesterday. Just icing on the already burnt cake.”

“Damn,” she muttered, shaking her head. “They really don’t want students to survive in this city.”

“My job is gone, rent is up and if I fall behind on my classes and lose my scholarship too…” I trailed off, rubbing a hand down my face. “I can’t afford that.”

Leah shifted beside me, her tone softer now. “I know you absolutely don’t want financial help and I won’t push, but anything else you need, I’m here.”

“I know.” I leaned my head gently against hers. “Thank you.”

The next morning, I pulled on a clean outfit, packed my hair into a ponytail, and made it to campus just in time for my 8 a.m. class. I tried to focus, really…I did, but half the lecture blurred into a loop of job postings and rent calculations in my head.

By noon, I was out. A quick stop at the library, then I hit the streets.

Cafés, bookstores, corner shops… I handed out résumés like I was giving out breath mints. Most managers gave polite nods and vague “We’ll call you” promises, while some didn’t even look up.

By 4 p.m., my legs ached and my stomach was seconds away from staging a full protest. All I wanted was to go home, drown in instant ramen, and sleep off the day.

But instead, I found myself taking a bus toward Aunt Fiona’s neighborhood.

Might as well get it over with.

The bus ride was quiet, the kind that made you too aware of your thoughts. I sat by the window, watching Manhattan blur past. My feet throbbed from walking earlier, and the ache in my shoulders hadn’t let up since morning. I should’ve gone home, made that ramen and slept off the weight in my chest.

But I couldn’t ignore Aunt Fiona. She’d taken me in when there was no one else to. She could have left me in the care of the state, leaving me to bounce between foster homes and orphanages, but she hadn’t.

I got off at the usual stop near Washington Heights, a neighborhood that existed somewhere between worn and enduring. It wasn’t fancy, nowhere near the polished structures or trendy cafes downtown. The buildings here had character. Faded brick, crooked steps, and windows that looked like they’d seen things. But it was home to many families, and for what it lacked in gloss, it made up for in safety. You didn’t worry about walking alone here, even after dark. People looked out for each other. Not nosy… just watchful.

My shoes crunched over the cracked pavement as I walked past the familiar corner store, its faded awning still blinking half a neon “OPEN.” I passed the stoop where Mr. Ortega usually sat playing chess with himself, It was empty today..

Then came the brownstone. Aunt Fiona’s home. The one that raised me.

It looked the same as the first time I saw it, stoic and stiff, with paint peeling at the edges, the same dusty flowerpots lined up on the porch rail. I climbed the steps slowly and stood in front of the door for a moment longer than I needed to.

Then I rang the doorbell.

Nothing.

I rang it again.

And again.

I was just reaching to press it a fourth time when the door creaked open, revealing a woman with a slim build, her frame wrapped tightly in a patterned house robe. Her sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe like I was a package delivered late and already damaged. Her scowl was as present as always, like a habit she’d never broken.

She looked exactly the same as the last time I saw her… tired and annoyed. Aunt Fiona was in her late forties, but the permanent pinch in her brow seemed to have aged her by another decade. Her dark hair was pulled into a taut bun, not a strand out of place. Everything about her screamed control.

“About time,” she muttered, stepping aside without another word.

I walked in without argument.