Ayla's POV
Gran! Gran! Gran!
My alarm screams beside my pillow, and before it even gets the chance to ring a second time, I am already up.
Usually, I'm the kind of girl who snoozes it at least twice before crawling out from under the blanket, but not today.
Today isn't just another morning.
It's the first day of a new beginning.
I throw off my covers, heart pounding in excitement and nerves. For a few seconds, I stand beside my bed, letting it sink in, I'm really going to work at Solaria Manhattan today, the most renowned luxury hotel group in New York. The name itself sounds like money and authority.
I spent four long years studying hotel management while I was in university, but since I graduated three years ago I haven't landed a single real job. I did three years of part-time work and menial jobs just to survive. And now, finally, I'm walking into one of the best hotels in the city.
I rush into the bathroom, still grinning, and catch my reflection in the mirror. And like every morning, I pause.
A pretty girl stares back at me long, fluffy brown hair that refuses to lie flat no matter how much I brush it, big round hazel eyes with a faint blue shimmer on the lids, soft lips, a heart-shaped face, and smooth glowing skin. I look… decent. Maybe even a little pretty.
No…scratch that. I look damn pretty.
"Okay, Ayla Davul," I whisper to my reflection, puffing my cheeks. "You're twenty-four, starting fresh, and today you are getting the chance to prove that there's more inside your head than just a cute face."
A hot shower follows, long, steamy, confidence-building. Then I slip into my best outfit a crisp white blouse tucked into a navy-blue pencil skirt, topped with a light-cream blazer. I pull my hair into a low ponytail, letting a few strands fall loose around my face. The mirror version of me looks polished, professional… almost like she belongs in a place like Solaria.
When I step back into the sitting room, my roommate Mira sits perched, cross-legged on the sofa. She is munching on cereal and scrolling through her phone. Her pajamas and curly hair were in total mess... typically Mira.
"Oooh, my queen is here pretty as always," she teases, the moment she sees me in the room.
I fasten my watch, pretending to be calm. "First day at a corporate job. Do you think I'm going to do good?"
Mira jumps up, cereal forgotten. "Of course you will! You're Ayla Davul, remember? Best student, best worker, best everything. If those other companies didn't hire you, that's their loss." She adjusts my collar and sprays perfume on me like an over-caring mother.
I laugh softly. "You've always been the best person to me, Mira. I love you."
Still fussing with my blazer, she murmurs, "That's because you're amazing too. Three years of working for people who want you for your looks and never see your skills. And now Solaria Manhattan sees that my best girl has something more than prettiness alone. I'm super proud of you." She pinches my cheek. "Just promise me one thing….bring me a hot rich executive. And maybe grab one for yourself too."
"Ha-ha, very funny." I grab my beige handbag and check my reflection one last time. My lipstick is perfect, and my perfume smells expensive even if it's from a discount store. That's Mira's magic cheap things, perfect taste.
"Bye, my love," I say, heading for the door.
"Wait! No hug? Don't starve me now that you've got a job!" she complains, arms wide open.
"Oh, my bad you come first in everything." I giggle and hug her tight.
"You've got this, babe," she whispers. "Call me at lunch. I want every detail especially if your boss is hot."
I roll my eyes. "Hopeless."
She grins, unbothered. "Don't forget to get your work done and get mine too. Preferably a handsome, rich executive."
"Alright, ma'am. As your ladyship pleases," I say with a mock bow before heading for the door.
As I step outside, the morning breeze brushes my face, carrying with it the scent of new beginnings.
Outside, New York is already alive, cars honking, people rushing, the city pulsing with noise and ambition. The kind of morning that promises something big. I clutch my bag tighter and head for the bus, nerves buzzing under my skin.
The ride feels endless. My heart won't calm down, not even when I replay the call from HR "Congratulations, Ms. Davul. You passed the interview and meet the criteria for the position. You'll be joining us as the new secretary to the General Manager."
Secretary to the General Manager.
The words still sound unreal, huge, and intimidating… perfect!
When I finally step off the bus, I walk for a few minutes before reaching Solaria Manhattan and I'm more than astonished by the sight before me.
[SOLARIA MANHATTAN]
The name gleams in gold above the entrance, its motto carved beneath "Where Luxury Touches the Sky."
And it truly does. A ninety-story tower of glass and steel, catching the morning light like a jewel. Every pane reflects power. A private rooftop helipad glints far above. For a second I stare so long my eyes ache.
Inside, the air changes cool, fragrant with white tea and cedar. Marble floors stretch beneath crystal chandeliers; luxury hums in every surface. The men at the desk wear deep-purple suits with gold pins, the women tailored blazers embroidered with the Solaria crest.
"Wow," I whisper. "Three years late getting a real job… It's worth every minute."
I walk toward the reception desk, heels clicking like nervous punctuation marks. My cheap shoes squeak once I wince then stand tall, forcing confidence.
I pause a few steps before the desk and rehearse my words.
"Good morning, I'm Ayla Davul, newly hired secretary for the General Manager…..No, that sounds stiff."
"Good morning! I'm here to start my first day…..Ugh, too cheerful. "
Maybe just… "Hi, I'm Ayla Davul, the new secretary…..Yes. Calm and confident."
"Okay," I whisper, clutching my bag tighter. "Calm and confident."
I square my shoulders and take a breath so deep it almost hurts. One step. Then another.
The receptionist looks up with a polite smile. "Good morning, ma'am. Welcome to Solaria Manhattan. How may I assist you?"
"Hi," I say, trying not to sound breathless. "I'm Ayla Davul, the new secretary assigned to the General Manager."
She checks her tablet, nods. "Yes, Ms. Davul, you're expected. Please head to the top floor of the executive suite. Elevator to your right."
"Thank you," I say, and by this time my palms are damp.
Each step toward that elevator feels like a drumbeat my first real job, my first taste of power, and somewhere above… My new boss.
I press the top-floor button. The doors slide shut with a soft ding. My reflection in the mirrored walls looks nervous, hopeful, and determined.
"I can do this," I whisper.
The elevator climbs 50th, 60th, 70th… my stomach lifts with it. Then, finally ding.
The doors open.
I step out, rehearsing my polite smile, smoothing my skirt. The executive floor glows with quiet opulence artwork, glass walls, and silence.
I stop in front of the large door marked General Manager's Office.
"Hmmm," I clear my throat softly, knock once.
No answer.
I inhale, knock again two quick taps.
Knock! Knock!
"Come in," a low, rich voice answers from inside.
The sound makes something twist inside me sweet, firm, dangerously familiar. But I brush it off. Where on earth would I know someone in a place like this?
I push the door open.
The office is stunningly wide, sunlit, and impossibly sleek. Every surface gleams. The air is laced with jasmine and something sharper.
At the massive desk, a figure sits turned away, long black hair cascading like silk over the back of a leather chair.
"Good morning, ma'am," I say, with the smile I practiced. "I'm Ayla Davul… your newly assigned secretary."
Silence!
Then the chair begins to turn slowly, deliberately and my boss, a woman, faces me.
A tailored white blouse hugs her body with effortless elegance. A gold watch gleams at her wrist. Her skin is flawless. A pair of dark glasses hides her eyes, but her posture… her presence… it stirs something old, something buried.
She reaches up, removes the glasses, and those eyes…
Piercing. Amused. Unreadable.
Yet heartbreakingly familiar.
My knees buckle. My bag slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud I barely hear over the roar in my ears.
"It's her." I whisper the words, my mouth parted, stunned.
Of all places, of all chances… fate brings me back to her.
She tilts her head, lips curving not quite into a smile something between recognition and danger. And just like that, the world feels both terrifying and beautiful again.