Chapter 9
657 Words
The next morning, after a night spent in the most comfortable bed I'd ever slept in, I made myself coffee in the gourmet kitchen and sat at the island with my new laptop. Time to start looking for a job.
Dinner with Dante had been... interesting. He'd taken me to another exclusive restaurant where he was clearly a regular. We'd talked more about Luca's business vulnerabilities, about potential ways to undermine him professionally. Dante was methodical, strategic, thinking several moves ahead like we were playing chess.
He'd asked questions about Luca's upcoming deals, his financial status, his relationship with key investors. I'd answered honestly, seeing no reason to protect Luca anymore. But I'd also made it clear I wasn't committing to anything yet.
"I need time," I'd told him. "This is all happening fast."
Dante had agreed, seeming content to let me settle into the apartment and think things over. He hadn't tried to kiss me again, maintaining a respectful distance throughout the evening. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
Now, scanning job listings, I felt a familiar sense of frustration creeping in. My resume looked impressive enough—business degree, experience managing finances and operations for a growing company. But there was a gap—Luca had insisted I stop working officially three years ago to be a "proper wife." On paper, it looked like I'd been doing nothing since then.
I applied for several positions anyway, attaching a cover letter explaining my circumstances as delicately as possible. Then I started making a list of personal contacts who might be willing to help me find work, even with Luca potentially poisoning the well.
My old phone rang, displaying a number I didn't recognize. I hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
"Vivian? It's Tom Branson."
I straightened. Tom had been one of our most reliable suppliers at Moretti Enterprises—honest, straightforward, and always fair in his dealings.
"Tom, hi. How are you?"
"I'm good. Look, I heard about what happened with you and Luca. Word travels fast in this industry."
I winced. "I'm sure it does."
"I wanted to check if you're okay. And... to offer you something."
My interest piqued. "What kind of something?"
"I need someone to help reorganize my warehouse inventory and accounting systems. It's temporary, maybe a month of work, but it pays decent. I figured with your background, you'd be perfect for it."
Hope fluttered in my chest. "That sounds great, actually. When would you want me to start?"
"Can you come in today? Around noon? We can discuss the details."
"Absolutely. Text me the address and I'll be there."
After we hung up, I leaned back in my chair, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. A job—even a temporary one—was exactly what I needed right now. Something to keep me busy, earn some cash, and remind me that I was capable of standing on my own.
I dressed in the most professional outfit I could put together from my limited wardrobe, making a mental note to go shopping as soon as I had some income. Just before I left, I noticed a package sitting on the kitchen counter that hadn't been there earlier. A note on top read: "For your first day back in the workforce. —D"
Inside was a sleek leather portfolio containing a tablet, notebook, and pen set. The tablet was already set up with business apps and a secure email account in my name.
How did he know I'd gotten a job? And how had this package appeared in the apartment without me noticing?
I considered leaving it behind out of principle, but practicality won out. I needed these tools, and right now, I couldn't afford to be too proud.
I tucked the portfolio under my arm and headed out, determined to prove—to myself more than anyone—that I could rebuild my life from scratch if necessary.
- Writer
