The Billionaire's Plus Sized Redemption

Chapter 5: Practice Questions

Oliva pov

We practiced for over an hour until my answers were smooth and calm.

By eight o’clock in the evening, my jaw was tired from talking, but the heavy weight in my chest felt a little lighter. Luca finally closed the yellow notepad and stood up from the chair.

“You’re ready,” Luca declared, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now go get some water before your voice gives out completely.”

I stepped out into the hallway and walked toward the kitchen. The apartment was quiet now, except for the faint hum of the old refrigerator in the corner.

Adrian was standing near the kitchen counter, quietly stirring a cup of herbal tea. He looked up as I walked in. He wore a simple black sweater, his dark eyes watching me carefully as I poured myself a glass of cold water from the pitcher.

“How was the rehearsal?” Adrian asked, his voice low and steady.

“Terrifying,” I admitted, taking a small sip of water. The cold liquid helped soothe my scratchy throat. “Luca made me answer fifty questions. I had to practice sitting without fidgeting.”

Adrian set his spoon down on a napkin. He stepped away from the counter and came to stand a few feet in front of me. He didn't rush his words. He never did.

“Olivia,” Adrian said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

I raised my head and met his steady gaze.

“You survived Damian,” Adrian said, speaking slowly so every word registered in my mind. “You lived in a house with a man who spent seven years trying to break your spirit. You packed a bag in the middle of the night, walked out the front door, and never went back. You built a new life from nothing.”

I held my glass with both hands, listening to the quiet rumble of his voice.

“An interview is just a conversation with a person in a suit,” Adrian continued gently. “They are going to ask you questions about typing, calendars, and phone calls. That manager cannot hurt you. He doesn't own you. He doesn't know your past unless you decide to share it. Compared to what you’ve already survived, an interview is nothing.”

A tight knot near my collarbone slowly relaxed. Adrian was right. Damian had tried to take my voice, my confidence, and my independence. But he hadn't taken my mind. I still knew how to organize a schedule. I still knew how to manage an office.

“Thank you, Adrian,” I said quietly.

He gave me a small, rare smile and patted my shoulder once. “Go to bed early. You have a long day tomorrow.”

The next morning came far too quickly.

My alarm buzzed at six o’clock. The sun hadn't even risen yet, painting the sky outside my bedroom window in shades of dark blue and gray. I got out of bed, washed my face with cold water, and put on the navy blue suit.

I pulled my chestnut-brown hair back into a low, neat ponytail, fastening it with a simple black band. I put on a light layer of natural makeup, just like I used to wear years ago. When I stood in front of the hallway mirror, I didn't see the scared woman who had arrived at Luca’s doorstep with a single suitcase months ago. I saw a professional woman ready to work.

Luca handed me a hot cup of coffee as I reached the front door. “Don't forget your folder.”

“I have it,” I said, lifting the black leather folder under my arm. Inside were three crisp copies of my resume, printed on heavy white paper.

“Call us the second you walk out of the building,” Luca said, pulling me into a quick, warm hug.

“I will,” I promised.

I walked down the steps of the apartment building and stepped onto the sidewalk. The morning air was crisp and cold, smelling of fresh coffee from the corner bakery. I walked three blocks to the subway station, keeping my chin up and my shoulders straight.

The train ride into the financial district was crowded. People in dark coats stood shoulder to shoulder, reading newspapers or staring down at their smartphones. I held onto the overhead metal handrail, keeping my balance as the train swayed over the tracks. Every time the train stopped at a station, my heart gave a little nervous thud against my ribs, but I kept my breathing steady.

Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the subway station and onto the busy street of the Kingsbridge District.

Kingsley Tower stood right in front of me. It was a massive skyscraper made of dark glass and polished steel, stretching so high into the sky that the top floors disappeared into the morning clouds. Hundreds of people in sharp business suits were streaming through the massive glass doors at the entrance.

I took a deep breath, adjusted the leather folder under my arm, and walked up the broad stone steps.

The main lobby was huge. The white marble floor was polished so bright I could see my reflection beneath my black shoes. Giant chandeliers hung from the three-story ceiling, casting a warm, golden light over the busy room. Security guards in neat blue uniforms stood at the silver turnstiles, checking badges.

I walked up to the main security desk. A guard with graying hair looked up from his computer screen.

“Good morning,” I said, keeping my voice clear and polite. “My name is Olivia Bennett. I have an interview with Human Resources on the twentieth floor at nine o’clock.”

The guard typed my name into his computer. The keys clacked loudly. After a second, he printed out a small plastic visitor pass and slid it across the marble counter to me.

“Take the express elevator on the far left,” the guard said, pointing down the long hallway. “Touch the pass against the scanner inside.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking the plastic card.

I walked down the gleaming hallway toward the elevators. My heels made sharp, rhythmic sounds against the marble floor. Click, clack, click, clack.

I reached the far left elevator. The silver doors were smooth and polished like mirrors. I pressed the up button. A soft chime sounded, and the doors slid open silently.

The inside of the elevator was quiet and lined with dark wood paneling. I stepped inside and turned to face the front. I was the only person in the car. I tapped my visitor pass against the digital scanner on the wall. A green light flashed, and the button for the twentieth floor lit up in bright blue.

The silver doors closed, shutting out the noise of the busy lobby.

The elevator started to move. It rose fast and smooth, pulling my stomach down just a little as the floor numbers lit up above the door one by one.

10... 11... 12...

I looked at my reflection in the elevator’s dark wood paneling. I adjusted the lapel of my navy jacket. I unclenched my left hand and let it rest naturally at my side. You belong here, I told myself quietly. You survived the worst. You can do this.

17... 18... 19...

The elevator slowed down smoothly. A loud, clear chime rang out inside the small cab.

20.

The silver doors slid open, revealing the grand executive floor of Kingsley Global Holdings. The floor was covered in a deep, dark blue carpet that muted every sound. Warm wall lights illuminated elegant paintings along the hallway, and a massive glass desk sat at the far end of the lobby.

My heart pounded hard against my chest, echoing like a drum in my ears, as I raised my foot to take my very first step off the elevator.