Chapter 1: The Worst Day of My Life (So Far
Chapter 1: The Worst Day of My Life (So Far)
If bad luck had a fan club, I’d be its president.
That morning, my alarm didn’t ring. My phone fell into the toilet. And my landlord, Mr. Briggs—who smiled like he enjoyed human suffering—slipped a pink eviction notice under my door like it was a love letter.
FINAL NOTICE. PAY IN 7 DAYS OR VACATE.
Seven days.
I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because crying would’ve required energy I didn’t have.
“Okay, universe,” I muttered, tying my messy hair into a bun. “What else you got?”
The universe, apparently, was listening.
I sprinted into the lobby of Sinclair Global Media fifteen minutes late, sweaty, breathless, and praying to every god I’d ignored in my life.
This was my chance.
A junior writer position. Steady pay. Rent money.
The receptionist looked me up and down like she regretted her life choices.
“You’re late,” she said flatly.
“I’m early,” I corrected. “Just… for tomorrow.”
She didn’t laugh.
I was ushered into a glass office where three people sat. Two women. One man.
The man didn’t look up immediately. He was signing something, calm and annoyingly perfect.
Then he raised his head.
And my soul left my body.
It was Coffee Suit Guy.
The stranger I’d crashed into earlier that morning, spilling coffee all over his ridiculously expensive suit while yelling, “I swear I’m not usually this chaotic!”
His eyes widened.
“Slipper Girl,” he said slowly.
I froze. “Billionaire Man.”
The two women blinked.
“I—uh—what?” one of them asked.
Coffee Suit Guy leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Care to explain why you called my boss ‘Billionaire Man’?”
Boss.
Boss?!
My brain shut down.
This was Alexander Sinclair. Tech mogul. Media tycoon. Infamous billionaire. Known for firing people over grammar mistakes.
I stood up. “I would like to formally pass away now.”
Alexander smiled.
That was worse.
Somehow, the interview continued.
Badly.
“What’s your greatest strength?” one woman asked.
“Honesty,” I said. “And panicking under pressure.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “That’s… two things.”
“I contain multitudes.”
He smirked. Actual smirk. Like he was enjoying this.
“What about your weaknesses?” he asked.
I glanced at him. “Rich men who wear suits I can’t afford.”
The room went silent.
I waited for security.
Instead, Alexander laughed.
A full laugh.
“Interesting answer,” he said. “You spilled coffee on me this morning. Any regrets?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “I wish it had been hotter.”
One woman choked.
I didn’t get the job. Obviously.
But as I turned to leave, Alexander spoke again.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
“Your writing sample,” he said. “It was… good. Messy, but real.”
My heart jumped.
“Come back tomorrow,” he added. “We’ll talk.”
I didn’t know whether to faint or scream.
So I tripped on the way out.
By the time I got home, reality punched me again.
My door was open.
Inside, my boxes were stacked.
Mr. Briggs stood there, smiling.
“You’re early,” he said cheerfully. “I rented the apartment.”
“But I have seven days!”
“New owner paid extra for immediate possession.”
I laughed again. The unhinged kind.
“Where am I supposed to go?”
He shrugged. “Not my problem.”
I dragged my suitcase onto the street, rain starting to fall like a bad movie cliché.
That’s when a black luxury car pulled up in front of me.
The window rolled down.
Alexander Sinclair looked out, perfectly dry, perfectly calm.
“Need a place to stay?” he asked.
I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
“I don’t joke,” he said. “Get in.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because,” he replied, eyes unreadable, “you accidentally moved into my building. And I just bought it.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“And,” he added casually, “you’re my tenant now.”
⸻
CLIFFHANGER
As thunder cracked above us, I realized something terrifying.
I was homeless.
Jobless.
And possibly living with the most powerful man in the city.
I tightened my grip on my suitcase.
“Alexander,” I said slowly, “why do I feel like this is the beginning of my downfall?”
He smiled.
“Oh,” he said. “It is.”
⸻
