Chapter 1

• REYNOLDS CLOTHING'S COMPANY
• (CEO: Marcel Reynolds)
• Jocelyn's POV
• "Another fucking day of being an independent citizen," I tiredly jerk up from the bed.
• Being independent is not as easy as I have always thought. Here I am in this tiny apartment, wondering how I will cope without someone to depend on. It all feels new to me, and I am still trying to adapt to the situation.
• I smile because even if the apartment is small and needs a little spark, it gives me a sense of freedom I never had while living with her. It was a good thing that I got a mail about being selected for the interview.
• It's been a few weeks since I decided to leave my mother's house and stay on my own. My mother must have thought I was sick in the head. She might even be thinking I would come back groveling before her, but I'm bent on doing the opposite.
• I can't believe she chose that jerk of a man over me, her daughter. Even if she didn't think of others, couldn't she have thought of me too? I wonder.
• If my mom had believed the truth of what I told her and had it my way, that slimy bastard who tried to take advantage of his stepdaughter would have been behind prison doors, on the cold stone floor for a long time. Mom knew I was telling the truth, but she wasn't ready to face it.
• After all, my mom trusted him; all he could do was betray her like that. Men will never prove us wrong.
• I should have known better when he always tried to get closer to me when my mum wasn't home or when he would give me those bawdy looks even when my Mom was present. I objected to his advances not once. Who would have known that he had some cunning plans up his sleeve?
• I twist my face in raw disgust as I remember the last straw that broke the camel's back. I was in my room listening to music through my plugged-in earphones when I slept off on the bed. I had forgotten to lock the door to my room.
• Maybe he passed and saw my door open then decided to peep inwards, and I still don't know. Seeing that I had fallen asleep, I guess he couldn't keep his dirty hands to himself and thought it was the best time to fulfill his nasty longing.
• All I felt was a quick movement on my breast. I moved and opened my eyes immediately to see him on me. The shock in my eyes told him of what was coming. If he didn't pin me down, I would have kicked him in the crotch or slapped him. I would never get over the sheer audacity he displayed that day.
• He was almost in the process of raping me when a knock on the door stopped him. It was my Mom's knock. He immediately rolled off me, composed himself, and went to open the door. I couldn't hold my anger, and I went to the parlor to complain to my mom when she shut me up in his presence.
• He winked at me from behind her. There and then, I knew I could not stay any longer with my Mom, who chose to support a man over her flesh and blood.
• I shake my head and sigh as I'm drawn back to the present. I recently just graduated from New York University, where I had obtained a degree. I planned on getting a job once I had settled down well at Mom's, but the turnout of events spoilt my well-laid-out plans.
• Immediately after that happened, I called a real estate agent for an appointment. On getting there, I was given a list of apartments within my measly budget range.
• The money I had on me wasn't that much as savings from my days back in the university. I gathered them together and paid for an apartment on the other side of the city. I packed out of her house the next day.
• It was roughly an hour's ride to my Mom's place, but I vowed never to visit or step foot in her home again until she sent that swine packing. I wonder when that will be. I am left with no option but to draw my plans of searching for a job forward quickly. I hope fate smiles on me.
• With this resolve in my heart, I jump to my feet and take out one of my well-ironed suit skirts, a pink floral shirt, my underwear from my cabinet, and my flat shoes. The pink shirt is almost faded, but it is ironed and starched. I take my black handbag and put in a few of my belongings.
• Then I go to my small shelf by the corner of the wall to retrieve the file containing my documents. I open it to check if there's any missing, and it is complete. I put it in my black bag.
• Then I stroll into the tiny bathroom in my room to have my bath.
• After my bath, I wrap a towel around my body. I use another to dry my jet-black silky hair. Having inherited a good set of solid genes from my parents, especially my father, my hair has a long smooth texture, unlike my mom's bob. I also inherited some from my mother, like her skin color, which would later hinder me, her beauty, and her dang hot figure.
• I quickly towel my hair and my body. Then I use my lotion. I get down to my breakfast of cereal and milk. After munching it down, I take a little water and wash the plate in the kitchen sink. I wore my clothes and rubbed little makeup on my face.
• Then I take a brief look at myself in the mirror. I can not help but smile at the lady staring back at me. I have a second thought and pick up my jacket because it looks a bit cloudy outside.
• I step out of my apartment and lock the door humming Sia's song 'Unstoppable.' It was rumored that a house was burgled down the street last week. I confirm if the lock is stable enough before leaving.
• I can't afford to lose everything in my apartment, thereby going back to square one. I can't imagine moving back to my mom's place until she decides to do my bidding.
• My neighbor Jane, who seems nice, bids me goodbye as she's also on her way out. I smile at her and wave to her to have a great day also.
• I hope to win the job with my killer smile. Today's going to be a big day, I think.
• I walk down the street and take a cab. "Reynolds Fashion."
• I alight at Reynolds Fashion Clothing company and pay the cabman his fee before he zooms off the road, searching for another potential customer. I took a look at the gigantic building, and I was wowed. It is much bigger than I thought.
• It had such a fantastic outlook. Best in their game of fashion, they were even patronized by the Kardashians, Rihanna, Offset, Cardi B, and the likes.
• They produced quality and nothing else. Bags, shoes, boots, clothes, name it. The building should have been a tourist attraction for visitors to New York.
• I climb the steps, gradually moving towards the building. I am being checked in by a bulky stern-looking man in security clothes. He uses a baggage scanner to check the contents of my bag.
• After checking it, he gives it back to me. "You can go ahead." He said.
• The sliding doors open as I press a button. It ushers me into an ample open space in the lobby. I'm amazed at such an ample space being wasted for an entrance. I picture my cubicle, and it would at least fit into 20 portions of this sprawled-out lobby. Decked in fascinating floor murals, the floors shine like heaven's floors.
• Working here would be a tremendous experience, no doubt. It would also be a plus on my resume. I approach the receptionist behind her table doing her day's work.
• "Hello, good morning. I am Jocelyn Gbone Dizon, and I would like to see the boss."
• She looks at me quizzically. "For what exactly?"
• "I summited my entrance resumé online and was among those selected for the job interview."
• She looks at me once more with her naturally plain makeup. She seems so thirty-five, looking all suited up with her hair up in a quiz bun.
• She stands up from her seat. "Follow me." She leads me into another enormous lobby, where we pass some workers arranging clothes on a mannequin.
• They give me an awkward look. I wonder what's going on. We take the elevator to the last floor. I look down from the previous floor, and a spine-chilling feeling overwhelms me as I compose myself. Growing up, I was afraid of heights. Maybe working here at Reynolds would help me overcome my fears.
• We get to a door. 'Marcel Reynolds,' boldly imprinted on its surface.
• She knocks. After a "Come in," she opens and leads me in. He's rounding off something with another worker who he asks to leave. He stares at us in surprise while the receptionist states my mission.
• "You can go, Mrs. Giovanni. I'll take it up from here." His voice was as calm and electrifying that it sent goosebumps to my skin.