Signed to the CEO

One more Attempt

The next morning, I woke up full of hope and a quiet certainty that today would be different from yesterday. I got out of bed, took a quick shower, and gathered my things to set out for the day’s job hunting. I had a list of places I planned to check out.

My best friend and roommate had been incredibly helpful throughout the process. I met her during a job interview at a company reception. She seemed nice and sweet, and we started talking while waiting to be called in. That was how I got to know her better, and I also found out she was looking for a place to stay.

Seizing the opportunity, I asked if she wouldn’t mind being my roommate. We would split the bills equally and stay together.

She agreed happily.

At first, I was skeptical about asking her. Truth be told, I didn’t really know her that well, and who knew, she could have been a serial killer or something. A lot of negative thoughts ran through my head, but it was pure instinct, a gut feeling that made me ask. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I had made in a while.

She ended up getting the job at the place where we met after the interview. I didn’t. But that didn’t change anything between us.

“Ready to head out?” Vivian asked.

“Yeah,” I replied curtly.

“Let’s take the bus together. I have something to do in that area.”

I squinted at her. “Something? Like what?”

She smiled, that knowing smile. “Oh, you know. Something. Someone I’m meeting at a coffee shop,” she added with a giggle.

I knew that look all too well. She made that face when she liked something. In this case, it was clearly a someone. Saving the details for later, we left the house.

We split up at the terminal, and I went on my way to my first location.

Five hours went by quickly as I moved from one company to another, crossing names off my list and heading to the next. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me. I was starving too.

I stopped at a small pastry shop and ordered a slice of cake and a cup of cappuccino. While enjoying my brunch, I scrolled through my social media. I saw classmates from school living their best lives, working at their dream jobs, smiling like everything had worked out for them.

Meanwhile, I had been stuck in the same place for three years.

As I scrolled, I stumbled across a post from a digital company looking for workers. I went through the application process. It felt too good to be true, like it might be a scam. But honestly, I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I had anything valuable to lose.

I filled in my details and submitted the application.

Easy peasy. Why couldn’t the rest be like this?

I locked my phone and leaned back in my chair, finishing the last of my cappuccino. For a brief moment, I let myself imagine what it would feel like to finally receive an email that didn’t start with unfortunately. Something steady. Something normal.

But imagination didn’t pay rent.

By the time I left the pastry shop, the sun was already beginning to dip. Reality settled back in when I checked the time. I had just enough hours to go home, change, and get ready for work.

The club.

That night, the neon lights glowed brighter than usual, flashing against the darkening sky. I tied my apron, slipped into my heels, and stepped behind the bar like I had done a thousand times before.

Music thundered through the walls. Glasses clinked. Voices overlapped. Another night.

An hour into my shift, the crowd thickened. Laughter grew louder, movements sloppier. I moved back and forth behind the bar, pouring drinks and wiping counters, my body working on autopilot.

That was when I noticed her.

She didn’t blend in like the others. She was dressed well, too well for this place, and laughed a little too freely, her balance slightly off. She was already drunk. Not the fun kind. The dangerous kind.

At some point, she pushed away from the bar and staggered toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms. A man peeled away from the crowd and followed her.

Something in my chest tightened.

I stepped out from behind the bar before I could talk myself out of it.

The hallway was dim, the music muffled but still pounding. I saw her fumbling with the bathroom door, laughing weakly, while the man leaned in too close, his hand brushing her waist.

“Hey,” I snapped, my voice sharp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He turned, irritated. “Mind your business.”

“She’s drunk,” I said, stepping between them. “And you’re not going anywhere with her.”

“She came with me,” he lied.

“No, she didn’t,” I shot back. “Now leave before I call security.”

For a moment, I thought he might argue. His eyes flicked over me, calculating. Then he scoffed and walked away, muttering under his breath.

I turned back to her immediately. She was swaying now, barely standing.

“Hey,” I said gently. “You’re okay. Can you tell me your name?”

She blinked at me, eyes glassy. “Clara.”

“Okay, Clara. I’m Natalie. Let’s get you out of here.”

I tried asking for her address. She slurred it badly, mixing up words, barely coherent. There was no way she could make it home safely.

So I made a decision.

I took her to my place.

She passed out almost immediately after I got her onto the couch, shoes still on, makeup smudged, breathing slow but steady. I covered her with a blanket and sat there for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall.

I didn’t know who she was.

I didn’t know who her family was.

I didn’t know what kind of trouble this might bring.

All I knew was that I couldn’t leave her there.

And somehow, deep down, I had a feeling this wasn’t the end of it.