The Billionaire's Intern

Chapter 5

It was 4 am and I hadn’t slept a wink. I couldn’t.

Leah’s words echoed in my head like a broken record, “Go back tomorrow. Pretend you never left.”

It wasn’t that simple, but as crazy as that sounded, she had a point.

I spent the whole night staring at the ceiling, thinking about going back to Crown Tech and back to Liam Westbrook, the man who practically ruined my life.

I hated him. I hated the arrogance, the privilege, the whole untouchable aura he wore like cologne. But I hated the idea of being homeless more.

The bills weren’t going away. Rent was due soon, my MetroCard was hanging by a thread, and while my tuition was covered by a scholarship, NYU wasn’t exactly handing out meal plans and free apartments. I had to fund my housing, groceries, transit and every random fee that popped up on my student portal.

The job at the cafe had barely covered it, but at least it was something. I had a mattress to sleep on, a pantry with just enough to scrape by and I could still go to class without worrying if I’d make it through the day without passing out. Now, I had nothing. Just a bruised ego and a growing list of expenses.

My stomach growled loud enough to echo. I groaned and dragged myself to the kitchen, yanking open the cabinet door. Cold and empty. I was sure I heard ghostly whispers.

Had I really been so caught up in job applications that I forgot to restock?

The fridge wasn’t any better. One slice of cheese, half a bottle of almond milk, and a questionable packet of lettuce that looked like it had survived a war.

I sighed, grabbed a glass, filled it with tap water, and chugged like it might somehow replace dinner.

As soon as the sun came up, I threw on a hoodie and leggings, pulled my hair into a low bun, and decided I couldn’t ignore reality any longer. If I didn’t at least pretend to take care of myself, Leah would stage an intervention.

I walked down to the corner store, grabbed the basics… bread, eggs, ramen, store brand cereal, and started the slow trek back to the apartment. I was halfway up the front steps when my landlord popped out of nowhere, blocking the entrance with a clipboard in hand.

“Morning, Faye,” he said, a little too cheerful for my liking. “Got a second?”

Not really. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

He gave me that landlord smile, the one that meant something was about to get more expensive. “Just a heads-up. Rent’s going up next month. You’ll get the formal notice by email, but I wanted to give you a courtesy heads-up.”

I blinked. “But it went up three months ago.”

“I know, I know, but I gotta add an extra twenty percent” he said with a shrug. “Inflation and all that.”

“Twenty percent!” I exclaimed. I could barely cover the current rent.

He nodded and continued. “Start planning ahead, alright? Maybe pick up a second job.”

I stared at him. “I lost the first one a while ago.”

He didn’t even flinch. “Then I suggest you find something else. Fast.”

By the time I stepped back into my apartment, Leah’s voice was practically screaming in my head: “Go back tomorrow. Pretend you never left.”

I’d wanted to hold on to whatever was left of my ego. But as I dropped my grocery bag onto the counter, my landlord’s words ringing in my ears, the truth settled in my chest.

There was no way I could afford to be jobless for another day, not with the threat of having nowhere to live looming over me. I’d rather deal with Liam Westbrook’s smug face than end up on a park bench.

So, the next morning, I put on my big girl pants, literally and emotionally. I wore a blazer I usually reserved for job interviews, pulled my hair back into something neat, and held my chin up. I even got coffee on my way, like it would give me courage. The cup trembled in my hands, but whatever. It was showtime.

Walking back into Crown Tech felt surreal. Like I was returning to the scene of a crime. Only this time, I wasn’t the perpetrator, I was the girl begging for mercy.

The receptionist looked up, offering a polite smile. “Good morning. How can I help you?”

“Good morning,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I’d like to see the CEO.”

The receptionist hesitated, giving me a once-over before replying, “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but it’s important. Tell him it’s the coffee girl.”

She paused again, clearly debating whether to turn me away. Then she picked up the phone. “One moment.”

After a brief call, she covered the receiver and said, “You’ll need to wait a while.”

So I did. What started as forty minutes, somehow stretched into three mind-numbing hours.

At some point, I must’ve slept off, because I jerked awake at the light touch on my shoulder. The receptionist was leaning over me with a polite smile, as if she hadn’t just caught me dozing off.

“The CEO will see you now,” she said.

My stomach twisted suddenly. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to throw up or bolt.

She gave me directions to his office, and I followed them with unsteady legs.

When I got there, another woman was seated just outside the office, probably his assistant. She looked up from her screen the moment I approached.

“Faye Bennett?” she asked.

I nodded, heart thudding.

“Mr. Westbrook is expecting you,” she said, motioning toward the door behind her.

I turned to the large double wooden doors, inhaled once, then pushed them open and stepped inside.

And there he was. He was standing behind his sleek desk, dressed in another sharp, expensive looking suit. He looked amused, like he’d been expecting me all along.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite barista,” he drawled, leaning back against his desk. “Back to throw coffee at me again?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “No.”

He raised a brow, eyes gleaming with amusement. “No sir,” he corrected with a smirk that made my hands itch.

“Don’t push it,” I said, folding my arms. “I’m here because I need the internship.”

He tilted his head, as if I’d just admitted to a secret crush. “Is that right? What happened to your grand plan of washing public restrooms? I thought that was your preferred career path.”

My jaw tensed, but I forced myself to keep my voice even. “I changed my mind.”

“Pity,” he said, pretending to sigh. “ I think you would have fit right in. The sanitation department will be disappointed.”

I bit down the sharp reply at the tip of my tongue. “Look…” I paused, searching for the right words. “I need this job and I’ll do what it takes, even if it means putting up with you.”

He looked mildly impressed. “So noble. Self-sacrifice and all.”

“I’m not here to be noble, I’m here to work. I’ll keep my disdain to myself. I’ll do what’s required.” I said.

Mr Westbrook straightened slightly as he studied me. “You’re serious.”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I wasn’t.”

“And what changed between then and now? Besides the dramatic exit?” He asked.

I hesitated. “Life. Rent. Reality.”

His smile faded slightly. “So you’re not here because you respect the company or care about the opportunity, you’re just… desperate.”

“I’m simply being honest.”

He tilted his head, intrigued. “You’re not very good at begging.”

I forced a breath. “I’m not very good at swallowing my pride.”

“Try,” he said. His voice was calm now.

I looked at my hands, then back up at him. “I need the internship. I can’t afford to waste another day being unemployed, not with my rent going up and my cupboard empty. I’ll do the work. I’ll prove myself.”

He didn’t speak. Just looked at me with an unreadable expression.

“I’m not asking you to forget what happened. Just… give me a chance to fix it.” There. That was the closest I’d ever come to begging. And it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“I admire the nerve it took to walk back in here,” he said. “But I don’t reward flakiness. You quit the second something rubbed you wrong. That’s not someone I want in my company.”

“I made a mistake…”

“You made a choice,” he cut in sharply. “Now you get to live with it.”

It felt like a slap. My throat tightened, but I managed a nod.

“Thanks for your time,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even as I stood.

His voice stopped me at the door. “And miss Bennett? If you’re going to slam a door on your way out, make sure it’s not the only one open.”

I didn’t turn around. Just walked out, heat and humiliation crawling up my neck.