Bound to the Cold Billionaire

Stepping into Rai Technologies

She saw the poster.WALK‑IN INTERVIEW – TODAY, 5–7 PM

RAI TECHNOLOGIES – CUSTOMER SUPPORT / JUNIOR ROLESFor a moment Aisha just stared. Rai Technologies. The name looked wrong on cheap A4 paper, like a diamond glued to cardboard.“This can’t be real,” she whispered.Her phone time: 4:42 p.m.If she ran, she could still make it.Her mind immediately said no. No appointment. No formal suit. No big‑college degree. People like her didn’t just walk into towers like this. They watched from the bus window and kept their eyes down.Three days, the landlord’s voice echoed in her head. Three days, or I’ll throw you out.Kabir’s thin cough. Her mother’s half‑empty medicine bottles.“What’s the worst that can happen?” she muttered. “Another rejection? Add it to the collection.”Heat spread in her chest, half fear, half stubbornness. Before she could think herself out of it, Aisha tightened her grip on her folder and crossed the street.Up close, the Rai Technologies building looked even bigger. Glass walls climbed into the sky, turning the orange sunset into shattered light. The company name shone in silver above the entrance.Aisha caught her reflection in the glass doors—tired eyes, loose braid, simple kurta.“You don’t have to look like you belong,” she told herself softly. “You just have to get inside.”She pushed the door.Cold air rushed over her. The lobby was all marble, chrome and quiet. A chandelier glittered overhead. Behind a long white desk, two receptionists in navy blazers smiled the same practiced smile at a man in a suit.A security guard near the gate noticed her.“Interview?” he asked.“Yes. Walk‑in,” Aisha said, hoping her voice didn’t shake.He pointed to a standee near reception. WALK‑IN INTERVIEW – PLEASE REGISTER.“Go there first, madam.”She forced her feet to move. One receptionist turned to her.“Good evening. Interview?” the woman asked.“Yes. Aisha Sharma. For customer support or any junior position,” Aisha said.“ID, please.”Aisha handed over her Aadhaar. The woman typed quickly, printed a small form and slid it across.“Fill this and sign,” she said. “Then take the elevator to the fourteenth floor, Conference Room B.”Aisha filled the form with careful letters—name, address, qualification, short list of jobs. The box for “Current Income” stayed empty. She signed, returned it, and received a flimsy visitor badge on a blue ribbon.“Wear it visibly,” the receptionist said. “Security is strict.”“I will. Thank you.”The guard scanned her badge and the gate opened with a soft beep. Aisha stepped through, feeling as if she had crossed into another world.The elevator lobby walls were mirrored steel. She pressed the button for 14. While she waited, two employees in suits came to stand nearby.“Did you hear? The CEO is still in the building,” one murmured. “He fired someone this morning.”“Again?” the other whispered. “I’d hate to be on his bad side.”They stepped into another elevator and vanished.CEO. Fired. Bad side.Aisha shook the words away. “Relax,” she told herself. “People like him don’t even know people like you exist.”Her elevator arrived. She stepped in, pressed 14, and watched the doors slide shut, cutting off the glittering lobby.As the numbers climbed—5, 9, 12—her stomach twisted.“Please,” she whispered to no one. “Just don’t let this be another door that closes.”When the elevator pinged open on the fourteenth floor, Aisha fixed her dupatta, squared her shoulders, and stepped out.In a few minutes, she would learn that this door wasn’t just open.It was about to crash straight into her future.