Chapter 1
The morning light filtered through the car window shade, casting a soft glow on the mess inside. I let out a pained groan as I stretched in the cramped back seat, a symphony of cracks echoing through my joints as I tried to relieve the ever-present ache in my bones. It was a constant reminder of my shitty situation—living in my car at 22 years old. Even at the break of dawn, I could hear the familiar bustle of life outside: taxi horns blaring, polished shoes of businessmen clinking against the pavement, and the rumbling of subway trains reverberating through the ground—a low-frequency hum that vibrated in my bones, reminding me that I was in the city that never sleeps.
As my eyes cracked open, I stared at myself in the mirror hanging from the back of the passenger seat. My hair was a nest of rollers, reminiscent of glamorous film stars in the 1960s a stark contrast to the rest of me. At least I didn’t look too awful; I’d been able to shower yesterday, which had been able to rid me of a sheen of grime. My pale skin bore the marks of sleepless nights and did nothing to hide the dark circles under my eyes or my gaunt appearance.
The buildings on either side of my car in the cramped alleyway hid me from prying eyes. Still, I knew it was best to get a move on. It wasn’t safe to stay in the same place for too long. I gently tugged the rollers free, and my chocolate brown hair cascaded down my back in soft, bouncy waves. I reached over the assortment of possessions that cluttered my car, knocking items onto the ground, looking for the cleansing wipes I’d stashed in the car door. The cool fabric left goosebumps on my skin and I made quick work on applying light makeup.
I climb through to the driver’s seat, thankful for years of ballet allowing me to contort my body through the mess. I’d prepared a suit for today, it hung from the hanger and stared at me as I tried to calm my breathing thinking about the interview I was about to go to.
I glance at the mirror in the pulled down sun visor, adjusting my hair one last time. I slip into the suit jacket, the cotton brushing against my skin and providing some warm against the slight chill in the air. A reminder that it was almost winter, and I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes today. I needed this job desperately. I turned the key in the ignition, the engine spluttering to life with a familiar hiss.
It wasn’t difficult to navigate towards the Altieri conglomerate, the towering skyscraper dominated the urban landscape with is sleek silhouette and seamless expanse of darkened glass reflecting the city like a massive obsidian mirror.
I circled the block twice before finding a spot to park, wedging my beat-up Honda into a small space. As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, the crisp autumn air nipped at my cheeks, carrying with it the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
My eyes were drawn to a quaint coffee shop across the street, its large picture windows offering a glimpse into a world I longed to be part of. Inside, I could see a young woman, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, her manicured hands wrapped around a steaming latte. She was laughing with the barista, probably sharing a joke about the morning rush or complaining about the early meeting she was headed to. In a few minutes, she’d dash across the street, heels clicking against the pavement, to catch the subway that would whisk her away to her day job. And at the end of it all, she’d return to a cozy apartment, perhaps with a view of the city skyline, where she could kick off her shoes and unwind with a glass of wine.
I allowed myself a moment to indulge in this fantasy, imagining it was me in that coffee shop window. In my mind, I could feel the warmth of the ceramic mug in my hands, taste the rich, velvety latte on my tongue. With a quick wave to the friendly barista, I’d rush out, the bell above the door tinkling as I left.
The fantasy dissolved as quickly as it had formed, leaving me standing on the cold pavement, my stomach growling in protest. I hadn’t eaten for two days, and the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting from the coffee shop was almost torturous. I pushed the hunger aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
I smoothed down my suit jacket, tugging at the hem to ensure it lay flat. As I walked towards the Altieri building, I couldn’t help but wondered when I had taken the wrong turn in my life.
Gone were the sprawling mansions with manicured lawns, the glittering chandeliers, and the sound of champagne corks popping at lavish parties. No more designer clothes or private jets. The dazzling lights and money that had surrounded me in my youth had faded, replaced by the harsh reality of my current situation. I’d grown up in a world of privilege, where every whim was catered to, and every desire fulfilled. Now, I was struggling to keep a roof over my head—even if that roof was just the metal frame of my Honda.
As I approached the imposing entrance of the Altieri building, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. The gleaming revolving doors in front of me intensifying my fear. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and stepped inside.
The lobby was a marvel of modern architecture, all sleek lines and polished surfaces. The click of my heels against the marble floor echoed in the cavernous space. I approached the reception desk, my heart pounding as the receptionist, a woman with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and a practiced smile, looked up.
“Good morning. How may I assist you?”
“I’m here for an interview with Mrs. Fielding,” I said, willing my voice to remain steady. “For the Corporate Social Responsibility Assistant position.”
She tapped a few keys on her computer, her long, manicured nails clicking against the keyboard. “Ah, yes. Ms. Winters, is it? Please take a seat. Someone will be down to escort you shortly.”
I nodded my thanks and settled into one of the plush leather chairs in the waiting area. The soft cushions seemed to swallow me whole, a stark contrast to the hard car seats I’d grown accustomed to. I resisted the urge to sink further into its comfort, knowing I needed to maintain a professional posture.
As I waited, my eyes wandered around the lobby, taking in the opulent surroundings. A massive abstract sculpture dominated the centre of the room, its twisted metal forms reaching towards the vaulted ceiling. The walls were adorned with what I recognized as original pieces from renowned contemporary artists. It was a display of wealth and taste that I once would have taken for granted, but now left me feeling small and out of place.
The ding of the elevator snapped me back to reality. A tall, slender woman in a crisp white blouse and pencil skirt stepped out, her eyes scanning the lobby before settling on me. She approached with a confident stride, her heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor.
“Ms. Winters?” she inquired, her voice sharp and professional.
I stood quickly, smoothing my suit once more. “Yes, it’s lovely to meet you.”
“I’m Amelia, Mrs. Fielding’s executive assistant. Please follow me.”
The elevator doors opened to reveal a bustling office space, a sea of cubicles stretching out before us.
As we weaved through the maze of cubicles, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Each workspace was a microcosm of its occupant’s life - family photos, motivational quotes, and personal knick-knacks adorning the desks and walls. It gave me hope that I could regain the normalcy I had lost.
Amelia came to a halt in front of a frosted glass door, the name “Victoria Fielding” etched in elegant script. She knocked twice before opening the door and gesturing for me to enter.
“Mrs. Fielding, Ms. Winters is here for her interview,” Amelia announced, her tone clipped and efficient.
The woman behind the desk looked up, her steel-gray eyes sharp and assessing. Victoria Fielding was every bit the powerhouse I’d imagined.
Mrs. Fielding gestured for me to take a seat, her gaze never leaving my face. I settled into the chair across from her desk, trying to project an air of confidence I didn’t feel.
“So, Ms. Winters,” she began, her voice cool and measured, “tell me why you’re interested in the position of Corporate Social Responsibility Assistant.”
I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. “I believe that businesses have a responsibility to give back to their communities and make a positive impact on the world. The Altieri conglomerate has a reputation for innovative CSR initiatives, and I’m excited by the opportunity to contribute to that work.”
As I spoke, I couldn’t help but think of the irony. Here I was, barely scraping by, interviewing for a position that would involve allocating millions of dollars to charitable causes. I’d continued to do volunteer work even whilst I’d been living in my car. A homeless girl volunteers to help the homeless. Its ridiculousness didn’t escape me.
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to fidget. “While my professional experience is limited, I hold an MBA from Yale, which has equipped me with a solid foundation in sustainability and corporate responsibility. I’ve also been deeply involved in volunteer work for the past few years. I’ve organized fundraisers for local shelters, coordinated food drives, and even started a mentorship program for at-risk youth.” As the words left my mouth, I felt a pang of pride mixed with a hint of sadness. Those experiences had been born out of necessity, a way to give back even when I had nothing left to give. The thought of the zeroes in my student debt left a metallic taste in my mouth. But I had also been shown the power of community and the impact that even small actions could have.
Mrs. Fielding leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving mine. “Interesting. And how do you think these experiences have prepared you for a role in a corporate environment?”
I took a deep breath, willing my voice to remain steady. “My degree has provided me with critical insights into sustainable practices and the importance of corporate social responsibility. Coupled with my volunteer work, I’ve learned resilience, creativity, and how to maximize limited resources. In the corporate world, these skills translate to efficient project management, innovative problem-solving, and the ability to create impactful programs even with budget constraints.” As I spoke, I could feel a warmth spreading through my chest. Despite my circumstances, despite the fear and uncertainty that had become my constant companions, I knew that I had something valuable to offer. My experiences, though born of hardship, had given me a unique perspective that could be an asset to this company.
Mrs. Fielding’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “You speak with passion, Ms. Winters. It’s clear this means a great deal to you.” I nodded, allowing a small smile to cross my face. “It does. I believe that everyone, regardless of their circumstances, has the potential to make a difference. And I think that corporations, with their resources and influence, have an incredible opportunity to lead the way in creating positive change.” As the interview continued, I found myself relaxing slightly. The questions were challenging, but I answered each one with honesty and enthusiasm. I spoke about my ideas for community engagement, my thoughts on sustainable business practices, and my vision for how the Altieri conglomerate could expand its CSR initiatives. When the interview finally drew to a close, Mrs. Fielding stood, extending her hand.
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Winters. We’ll be in touch.” As I shook her hand, I felt a glimmer of hope. Regardless of the outcome, I had done my best. I had shown them the person I truly was—not just the girl living in her car, but a woman armed with education and determination who refused to let her circumstances define her. I made my way back through the maze of cubicles, my head held high. As I stepped into the elevator, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the polished doors. Despite everything, I looked composed and professional—like I belonged in this world of glass and steel. The doors closed, and as the elevator descended, I allowed myself a moment of quiet pride. Whatever happened next, I had faced my fears and taken a step forward. And for now, that was enough.
As the elevator descended, a wave of gratitude washed over me that I hadn’t encountered any members of the Altieri family during my visit. The thought of running into them sent a shiver down my spine. It had been six long years since I’d last seen them, and I had changed so much since then. Lilah Winters was not the same as Lilah Nightingale. The memories of lavish parties and sparkling chandeliers felt like a distant dream now, and despite my current circumstances I still did not regret leaving it. I couldn’t risk them recognizing me – my last encounter with the eldest Altieri brother was still seared into my head.
