Chapter 4: The Job, The Boss, The Twist

Back home, my apartment was quiet except for my cat snoring on the windowsill. I dropped my jacket, the day replaying like a bad sitcom in my head.

My best friend sent a photo and a message—a selfie with a Target cart overflowing with snacks and a sparkly Elsa umbrella poking out. Her texts always came with a goofy emoji.

[Hey babe, did you find a job?]

[If not, I just heard from a friend about a position with really good pay. Want me to recommend you?]

Me: [Sure, what kind of job is it?]

I sprawled on the couch, scrolling through job boards, my mind buzzing with rent and student loans. A good job felt like a miracle.

I worried about not finding work. Job hunting was brutal—my inbox overflowing with rejections, resumes piling up on my desktop.

Looking at the benefits, I frowned.

Her forwarded screenshot had full health coverage, dental, vision, even a 401(k). It sounded too good to be true.

[If the benefits are so good, how come they can’t find anyone?]

If a job with perks like that can’t hire, it’s either a scam or the boss is a nightmare.

Me: [Is there something wrong with the boss?]

Best friend: [No, my friend said the boss is just picky.]

[Go try the interview. I think you’ll definitely get this job.]

Me: [Okay, I’ll get ready and give it a shot.]

I closed my laptop, nerves fluttering, but figured—what did I have to lose?

…

The interview went smoother than I expected. For once, I didn’t trip over my words. The HR lady even complimented my blouse. The office smelled like fresh coffee and lemon cleaner—hopeful signs.

On my first day, a woman in a floral dress led me to my desk and handed me a file. Her smile was warm, reassuring.

[Ms. Madison, the CEO is waiting for you inside. Just knock on the door.]

[Oh, and please give this file to him later.]

I took it, nodded, and thanked her softly. She gave me a thumbs up as I straightened my blazer.

As I was about to knock, the office door swung open. I nearly dropped the file, heart stuttering.

Alex Harper’s face.

No way. What were the odds?

My eyes went wide.

He was holding a file, reading aloud in a slow, flat voice:

"Madison Clark, 25, single, never married."

He read it like it was nothing, his voice perfectly neutral.

Only then did I realize he was holding my resume.

I was toast. My cheeks flamed, my heart galloping. This was a workplace nightmare come true.

I gripped the doorframe, blinking hard.

He looked at me, a little hurt, voice low:

"Aren’t you divorced with a kid? Maddie, are you lying to me again?"

He sounded half amused, half disappointed—like he knew the punchline to a joke I didn’t want to tell.

"No, listen to my—excuse me, I mean, let me explain, geez."

I stumbled over the words, wishing I’d just told the truth at the reunion.

Alex smiled lightly and took the file from me.

"Come in."

He stepped aside, way too casual for how much my heart was pounding.