The next morning, the high-rise in Town C felt off. Usually, the building carried this quiet arrogance — polished marble in the lobby, fake-smiling security guards, and neighbors who only talked when they needed gossip to feed on. But today? The air itself felt heavy, like everybody was still chewing on Mrs. Maurice's sharp words from the night before. Mira could almost hear the whispers hiding in the corners of the hallways.
Not that she cared. Her world had been reduced to numbers: 450,000. A deadline that ticked in her head louder than the wall clock in her tiny apartment.
She threw herself into the job hunt with a hunger she didn't even know she had. Laptop open, hair tied up messily, coffee going cold beside her. She tore through job boards, sent applications back-to-back, refreshed her email like her life depended on it — because, well, it did. Mira wasn't some clueless girl either. She was sharp, her degree top of the line, her mind trained for numbers, data, and balance sheets. In a fair world, companies should've been fighting to hire her.
But this wasn't a fair world. It was City F.
Rejection letters stacked up in her inbox like unpaid bills. "Thank you for applying…""We regret to inform you…""We'll keep your CV on file." All polite, all useless. Each one hit her chest like a dull punch. She applied for financial analyst roles, budget coordinator, even positions beneath her qualifications just to get a foot in somewhere. Nothing stuck.
The days blurred — empty ramen bowls piling up, her eyes red from screens, her spirit crumbling bit by bit.
Then came that knock.
Sharp, cheerful, almost musical against the dull silence of her apartment. Mira dragged herself to the door, not expecting much. When she opened it, she blinked against the sudden splash of color.
"Mira Brown! Look at you, still glued to that laptop!"
Aliyah Marsh. Same wide grin, same energy that filled up a whole room. Her best friend from uni — Her mom was from Nigeria and he dad was from their country, rocking a bright Ankara dress that turned the grey hallway into a runway that allowed her tan skin glow.
Mira's heart squeezed. "Aliyah?! What the hell… How do you even know where I stay?"
Aliyah laughed, pulling her into a hug before she could even think. "Girl, you've been ghosting everyone! I had to call your dad. Don't be mad. I was worried, and since I had some off days from the agency, I thought I'd come check up on my favorite financial wizard."
The hug broke something in Mira. She clung to Aliyah longer than she meant to, like her body was begging for a lifeline.
Aliyah stepped inside, eyes scanning the room — the papers everywhere, the half-eaten bread on the counter, the curtains half-drawn like Mira wanted to hide from the world. She didn't comment, just settled onto the couch like she owned it.
"What's going on, Mira?" Her voice was softer now, free of jokes.
Mira didn't even know where to start. But once the words came, they wouldn't stop. She spilled everything — Will's betrayal, the monstrous 12 million debt, Fabio Hernandez's looming shadow and his humiliating demand, Levi's help, the suffocating deadline of 450,000. She talked until her throat went raw, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Aliyah didn't interrupt. She just listened, her face shifting between anger, disbelief, and heartbreak for her friend. When Mira finally stopped, silence hung heavy.
Then Aliyah grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. "Mira. Oh my God. Why didn't you call me sooner?"
"I was… ashamed." Mira whispered, eyes wet. "Ashamed I got played like that. Ashamed I couldn't fix it myself."
Aliyah's eyebrows shot up. "Ashamed? Babe, please. You got betrayed by a man who clearly has no soul. That's not your shame, that's his filth. You? You're still standing. That makes you a fighter."
Mira tried to laugh but it broke into a sob. Aliyah pulled her into another hug. "Listen, stop stressing about this job search alone. I got you. We'll figure it out. You're not drowning in this mess by yourself, okay? We're a team, always have been."
For the first time in weeks, Mira felt a flicker of relief.
Aliyah stayed for two whole days, turning Mira's gloomy apartment into a semi-home again. She cooked actual food, dragged Mira to watch old hollywood movies on her laptop, even forced her to sleep before 2 a.m. At the same time, she sat with Mira, reworked her CV, made calls, brainstormed ideas. Aliyah was the type who brought chaos and sunshine in equal measure — and Mira hadn't realized how much she needed both.
When Aliyah finally left, Mira felt lighter, like someone had pressed pause on her nightmares.
Four days later, Mira's phone buzzed. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Mira Brown? This is Wayne Corporation. We'd like to offer you a position as Assistant Manager in our Financial Department."
Mira froze. "Wayne… Wayne Corporation? You're serious?"
The caller chuckled. "Very serious. Ms. Aliyah Marsh spoke highly of you. We've also reviewed your credentials. No interview is necessary. You'll receive your offer letter by email. We'd like you to resume next Monday."
Mira almost dropped her phone. She called Aliyah immediately, voice shaking with joy. "Aliyah! Wayne Corporation just offered me a job. How—how did you pull this off?"
"I told you," Aliyah said, smug and warm all at once. "I know people. But more importantly, I know you. You're brilliant, Mira. They'd be dumb not to snatch you up. This is your shot."
Mira laughed through her tears, gratitude pouring out of her.
Wayne Corporation. Assistant Manager. A lifeline, finally.
But somewhere high above the city, in a skyscraper that practically kissed the clouds, Leonard Wayne, CEO of Wayne Corp, was in no mood for celebrations.
His office — all glass, leather, and intimidating silence — buzzed with tension. Leonard stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, jaw tight, suit jacket off, fists clenched at his sides.
"Mr. Barnes was proposing what?" His voice was low but venomous.
His assistant, Diego Suarez, cleared his throat carefully. "He… suggested you marry his daughter, sir."
Leonard turned, his eyes burning with ice-cold fury. "I'm not marrying Jessica Barnes."
The finality in his tone hung in the air, heavy as stone.