Chapter 1
THE BUSINESS ARRANGEMENT
DAISY MARKOV
Chapter One.
The little flat where Imogen had spent the majority of her youth was reeking of wet earth and cheap detergent. A single room with a damaged windowpane, a rusty ceiling fan, and a couch that doubles as her mother’s bed. Even if it wasn’t much, it had been home. Now that she was inside Wade Enterprises’ tall glass building, her shoes clicking on the gleaming marble floors, she couldn’t help but feel like a stranger in a real world. She had battled to be present. It was something she labored for. Did she actually dream of this, though?
Now that she was inside Wade Enterprises’ imposing glass building, She briefly closed her eyes and let herself be drawn back in time, when there was a lot of effort and hope was so brittle. When Imogen first realized what it meant to go without food, she was five years old. As she sat on the cold floor, watching her mother go through their little kitchen cabinets, she could still hear the rumble of her empty stomach. A stale bread loaf. A soup can whose expiration date was long ago. Her mother had set a little plate in front of her and smiled at her, exhausted but composed.
Baby, eat up. Your strength is necessary. Knowing the answer, she had asked, “How about you, Mama?” “I had dinner earlier.” The statement was false. To protect her from the burden of their reality, her mother told her this story, among others. Imogen had learnt to see the symptoms by the time she was ten years old, including the way her mother’s hands trembled from fatigue, how she diluted their milk to prolong its shelf life, and how she put her fingers to her temples when the bills became too heavy.
And so, Imogen learned to help.
She learnt to stitch up her old clothes rather than requesting new ones, to cut out coupons, and to act as though she wasn’t hungry when there wasn’t enough to go around. She discovered that they never had enough money and that goals came at a cost. Imogen was ten years old when she first became aware of how terrible the world might be. Their electricity had been cut off once more, and the night was colder than typical for the winter. “Let’s go for a walk,” her mother whispered as she took her outdoors while holding her hand and wearing an overly thin coat.
At the time, she didn’t comprehend it. She was unaware that her mother was attempting to keep her warm and divert her attention from the reality that there wouldn’t be enough money for food that evening or to pay the bills. All she knew was that her mother huddled her in every blanket they had, held her tight, and murmured a song she could hardly recall now when they got home hours later. Imogen resolved then and there that her mother would never suffer again.
When she was seventeen, she accepted her first work as a server in a dilapidated diner, where the hours lasted deep into the night and the oil clung to her skin. The dream had always been to go to college, but dreams came with a price. Between classes, she worked, juggling platters and false grins, counting tips and restless nights. She stood on sore feet while listening to lectures on her phone, cleaned tables while learning business textbooks, and repressed tears when patrons yelled at her as though she were invisible. She wasn’t invisible. She was adamant.
She was determined not to become just another statistic, another outcast girl from the wrong side of town. She desired more for her mother and herself. She had sobbed and clutched the paper like a lifeline when she received her college admission letter. It had seemed like the start of something fresh. But it was never easy to start. While Imogen weighed every dollar in her bank account and pondered whether she had enough to last the week, her classmates chatted about lavish brunches, fancy bags, and trips to Europe. She had no time for parties or friendships. She was able to work.
And she had believed that things would finally get better after graduating, with fatigue seeping into her bones and debt looming over her like a thunder cloud. Before she met him, that is. The position at Wade Enterprises had appeared to be a boon. The pay was more than she could have ever imagined. It was intended to be a positive step toward her ultimate goal of purchasing the home she had promised her mother. She then got to know Edan Wade. Then reality struck her like a blow to the head.
The first time he had spoken to her, he had given her a curt, dismissive, barked instruction without even looking at her. The second time, his voice was so frigid that it made her freeze in place as he yelled at her for a small error in his itinerary. That’s exactly who he was, she understood the third time. A man who thought he could bend the universe to suit him. A man who demanded things instead of asking for them.
She had always hated the type of man he was. Nevertheless, he had an allure that made it hard to turn away. Edan Wade had no mercy. conceited. Untouchable. He was great, though. She had witnessed it in his ability to handle billion-dollar transactions and turn struggling businesses into profitable ventures. He possessed an attention-grabbing demeanor, a charm he wielded like a sword, and an intellect sharper than a blade.
The situation was frustrating. Because Imogen was able to admire the way his mind functioned even when he was nasty and disregarded her as though she were nothing. She detested that aspect of herself. The fact that she was aware of him bothered her. However, it was irrelevant. Because she was just a piece of office furniture to him, not a real person. She was only another helper. An additional throwaway worker in Wade Enterprises’ massive operations.
Nevertheless, she had stayed for reasons she was unable to fully explain. Perhaps the money was the reason. Perhaps it was her stubbornness. Or perhaps—just possibly—some part of her wanted to show herself that she could live without him. Edan Wade, the man who made her feel smaller than she had ever felt, was working under the price. She glanced at the clock and took a short breath. 8:59 a.m. Her day would officially start when her boss arrived any moment now. Her pulse quickened at the sound of approaching footsteps. The endurance game was far from over. It was just getting started.
