My Billionaire Master

Stranger

"Oh God, It's Monday again", I was so tired of Monday morning. Having to wake up to the realization of work. Heaven knows I hated working there, but I had no choice. I slowly got off my bed, what seemes more like a rag than bed, then I went to take my bath. " Not this cold water again ", I groaned out in pain as the water touched my body.

I quickly took my bath and hurried to make breakfast before leaving for work. I looked around the fridge and all that was left was some leftover bacon and cheese from the groceries. Of course as a chef, I was able to make a decent burger from that which I had with a cup of hot milk. Not the best breakfast, but I ate at least.

As I stepped out of my apartement and into the familiar Parisian streets, I couldn't help but feel a sense of routine wash over me. The same charming cafes, the same quaint bookshops, the same elegant facades, it was all so beautifully predictable. I was used to life in the great city of Paris. It has been 5 years with no progress. I loved the city but hated the fact that I had been in one place for 5 years. I had to catch the train so I am not late for work. The last thing I want right now is to loose the only thing keeping my feet on the ground, yeah that is my job.

I was able to catch up with the train and while waiting to get to my destination, my mind drifted away, I began to reflect on my life.

About 5 years ago, I took the biggest decision of my life, coming to Paris to pursue my dream. I was still in college then and I knew my parents will never permit that. My dad being a scholar always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, go to school and keep goimg to school. He always told me " you will have the life you want if you studied a professional course or an academia course", but I never wanted that. My mum on the other hand was always in support of what he said. Being an only child, they made sure to control every step of my life which made me miserable, if only they could see that.

I discovered my passion in culinary while I was in year one in college but I was to scared to come clean to them. I could not focus in school or anything, all I wanted was to go with my dreams. On that fateful day, I decided to do what I thought was best for me. I already had enough savings and my passport ready. I left the house without even a note. I knew if I left anything that gave a hint of where I was, they would come get me. I left and never looked back.

Although I imagined life alot better for myself in Paris but I was wrong. My savings was nothing and I had no one here to help me. I have tried giving up so many times and going back home but I still wanted to fulfill my dreams. I did not want to disappoint myself. That was what has kept me driving for the past five years.

When I got to Paris, I quickly started school. I had already gotten admission whilst I was home, but after my first year, I couldn't keep up with the bills and I had to drop out. I tried getting a good work but I couldn't, I had no qualifications for any. I was able to get a cooking job at a five star hotel through the help of Kendra.

Kendra is the only person I know in Paris and she is my only family here. She knows everything about me, she has been of great help to me ever since I lost balance...."aren't you getting off miss", an old woman said to me, that was when I realized I was already at my stop.

I quickly hurried out the train and trekked to the hotel. Punctuality was a neccesity in the hotel and I couldn't afford to loose my job, not just here. I kept graoning inwardly as I got closer to the hotel, cooking was my passion but this place made me had second thoughts. I was treated with a harshly there, and I had no one to talk to. I always hated coming to work but I needed the pay.

As I made my way into the reception, oh wow the scent. I loved this hotel. The Hotel Belle Epoque - my second home. I've worked here for years, but every time I walk through those gleaming doors, I'm still struck by the sheer magicof this place. The lobby's soaring ceiling, with its dazzling chandelier, never fails to lift my spirits. And the way the soft , golden light spills across the marble floors illuminating the plush furnishings, it's like a warm hug on a tough day.

I've seen it all, from frantic check-ins to tearful goodbyes, but the hotel's ambiance never fails to impress me. Whether I'm zipping through the corridors on a busy shift or sneaking a quiet moment on the patio, I'm constantly reminded of why I love working here. Everyday, I see high-class individuals - CEOs, celebrities, and dignitaries, gliding effortlessly through the lobby, exuding confidence and poise. Sometimes, I catch myself dreaming of being in their shoes, of experiencing the world from their perspective. But for now, I'm content to be a part of their journey, if only for a brief moment. And who knows? Maybe someday, I'll be the one sipping celestial cocktails on the rooftop lounge, with the world at my feet.

I qucikly went to the kitchen store to change into my uniform, then I went to meeet the head chef mor my posting. Today I was making Bouillabaisse which is hearty fish soup from Marseille and Macarons. I have been working in this kitchen for what feels like an eternity. The heat, the chaos, the constant pressure to perform. It's a never ending cycle, and I am just trying to survive. But it is not just the work that's getting to me, infact the work has nothing to do with it, it is my passion but rather it is the way my colleagues treat me . The snide comments, the rolled eyes, the deliberate exclusion. I am the only Filipino woman in the kitchen and it makes me feel like they are determined to make me feel like I do not belong.

Today was a particularly brutual day. I had been cooking for six hours straight, covering two other people's shifts because they couldn't be bothered to show up. My feet ached and my back hurt, and my mind was numb. But still, I kept going , driven by a determination to prove myself. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, i fled to the restroom, tears streaming down my face. I didn't even notice that I'd enetered the men's restroom until I heard the door open behind me. I was too far gone to care.

That's when I saw him, a stranger with a kind eyes and a gentle voice. "Are you alright?" he asked, as if he actually cared.I looked up at him, and something inside me snapped. I began begging at first, begging that he shouldn't report me to my boss and from there, I poured out my heart, telling him everything, the struggles, the pain, the feeling of being trapped in a never ending nightmare.

As I spoke, I felt my body shutdown. My vision blurred, my words slurred, and my legs gave out beneath me. I felt myself falling and I knew I couldn't stop it. The last thing I rememberedwas the stranger's face, filled with concern and compassion. And then, nothing.

After what seemes like forever in darkeness, I slowly opened my eyes, groggily taking in my surroundings. I was met with a blurry haze, but as my vision cleared, I saw a room. Just a room. With walls. And a floor. And a ceiling. I tried to remember how I got there, but my mind was a blank slate. As I struggles to sit up, my gaze fell upon a window. With curtains. But wait, those curtains were flowly? And the windows was huge? I stumbled out of the bed , my legs wobbly beneath me. That's when I saw it. The room, the walls were painted a rich, creamy color, and the floor was made of shiny dark wood. The ceiling seemed to stretch up forever, with glittering chandelier hanging from its center. I stumbled backward, my eyes with wonder. The window, oh the window! It was like a wall of glass, with curtain that billowed like clouds. I stumbles towards it, my hand reaching out to touch the delicate fabric. And the furniture, it was like something out of a dream. Plush, velvety couches and chairs , arranged around a gleaming coffee table. I collapsed onto the couch, running my hands over the soft cushions.

Where was I? How did I get here?, I was wandering when someone interrupted my thoughts, " Vera, you are up".