Nervousness barely scratched the surface of what Theressa was feeling as she rummaged through her closet, in search of the most vibrant yet somber dress she owned. It was essential for her to appear well-presented, but her wardrobe seemed to house only faded garments. Money flowed through her hands like water, entering and departing almost instantly. She carried a sense of guilt whenever she contemplated spending on herself, as if her own needs were of the least importance in her life.
Her face lit up with delight when she stumbled upon a slim-fitting red midi dress. It was a new acquisition meant for Theressa and Justin's upcoming seventh-year anniversary. Yet, there was no point in saving it any longer. Justin had departed from her life by choice, and Theressa knew that shedding tears wouldn't bring him back. Secretly, though, she harbored wishes for his life to take a turn for the worse.
Without hesitation, she slipped into the dress, carefully threading her arms through the sleeves. The zipper proved to be a bit of a challenge, but the effort was worthwhile-the dress looked as lovely as she had expected. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she whispered, "I'll secure this job and make you proud, Mother." With a determined exhale, she left her apartment, taking measured steps as she hailed a taxi.
Theressa felt she was on the right path with her new job, and the sight of the awe-inspiring skyscraper, her workplace, filled her with love and wonder. The towering, reflective building, with its expansive windows, seemed to connect to the sky, epitomizing the vibrant essence of urban life.
"Hello, I'm here for an interview" Theressa greeted with a bright and hopeful smile, to which the lady at the reception desk responded in kind. The receptionist handed her a numbered card and directed Theressa to the location of her interview. Without hesitation, she entered the elevator, which was almost full with other applicants. Glancing at her phone, she confirmed that she was precisely on time. Stepping out of the elevator, her smile faded as she surveyed the people already seated and waiting for the interview-individuals much like herself.
Now, nervousness welled up inside her as she took her place in line, near the number assigned to her. She was number five, but there were other candidates queued up behind her, all of them seated, each one adding to her growing anxiety. The tension in the room escalated when a man emerged from an office, clearly frustrated. He loosened his tie as he marched out in anger, muttering incomprehensible words under his breath. It was evident that the interview had not gone well for him.
Theressa's heart raced, her hands trembling, and her self-esteem diminishing with every person who exited the office, their faces displaying disappointment and frustration. And then, it was her turn. Clutching her phone tightly, she took a deep breath before entering the office.
Inside, a chair was positioned in the middle of the room, with a group of individuals seated behind a long desk. Their hands were folded as they waited for Theressa to take her seat. She struggled to calm herself, taking slow and deliberate breaths as she settled into the chair. She began her introduction with a polite greeting, but as her eyes met with those distinctive dark gloves, not just any dark gloves, but the ones adorned with a horse design, she realized with a sinking feeling that she recognized the owner. At that moment, an unsettling certainty washed over her – she was doomed.
Despite the dark gaze someone sent her way, Theressa held firm and didn't hesitate to provide answers to the questions asked. She maintained her focus on every other person behind the long desk, avoiding eye contact with a certain person. The piercing intensity of that person's stare was something she dreaded, as if it could see right through her.
"Theressa," he began, and her heart skipped a beat. She had to muster every ounce of courage to meet this man's icy gaze. As expected, he wore that same cold expression she remembered from the day they had crossed paths inside the SUV. Why did she have to encounter him again? Theressa's fear was more than palpable at this point. All she wanted was for everything to end, to escape this man's relentless scrutiny.
"So tell me. How do you solve problems that come your way?" He flipped a page of Theressa's meticulously crafted CV before continuing, his voice laced with a subtle menace. "You did state here that you have great problem-solving skills. Do you pour your anger onto others, or do you approach problems with reason and composure?"
Theressa swallowed hard, her anxiety mounting with each passing second. She knew she had to answer carefully, her future depended on her response.
Theressa clenched her jaw, an instinctive response to the surge of apprehension that coursed through her veins. From the moment her eyes met that man's, she knew her chance was as fragile as a house of cards in a hurricane. It was clear as day that he harbored an intense dislike for her, and she felt it in the way his gaze bore into her. He had to be the CEO; it was written in bold letters on the plate in front of him - CEO Tolomeo Marcelo. The realization sent shivers down her spine.
While the others in the room appeared content with her performance so far, Theressa understood that, in the end, this man held the power to decide her fate. His first question hung in the air like a guillotine blade, and Theressa found herself incapable of responding. Her trembling hands betrayed her anxiety, and her heart raced as though it were trying to escape her chest. In that crucial moment, she sifted through her thoughts, desperately seeking a reasonable explanation, but everything seemed to dance around her head except for the right response.
"First, I would always try to avoid problems, and if any problem were to arise," she stammered, her voice quivering, "I would take an analytical approach to find a solution." It was a standard answer, one she had rehearsed countless times. But maybe it wasn't enough for this formidable man, who wasted no time before hurling another challenging question her way.
"And tell me, Theressa," the CEO continued, his voice cutting through the tense air, "if you truly possess the skills to solve work-related problems, how did you get fired from your previous workplace?" The question hit her like a hammer, leaving Theressa stunned and vulnerable. How did he know? It was a query she had hoped to avoid, something she didn't want to explain to this room full of scrutinizing eyes.
Theressa struggled to maintain her composure, the effort to conceal her annoyance almost physically palpable. The persistent inquiry had sent whispers rippling through the people seated behind the long desk, their doubts now manifesting on their faces. One of them leaned in to whisper something to the CEO, who responded with a nod of agreement before rising from his seat.
It took all of Theressa's self-control to refrain from leaping at the man who had already begun walking past her. His presence exuded an air of power and authority, and his cologne hung in the air as he passed. Her mind raced back to the previous day, the supermarket, the confrontation. The pieces began to click into place –this man has was definitely not just a CEO of a successful company, he probably has his hands in something that involves very dirty and most likely not legal.