The last few days have been torture.
I finally understand why people say getting a job is a big deal.
It's not just stressful—it's nerve-wracking.
Sure, King's Estate isn't the only place I could work, but let's be honest—it's the dream job for anyone living in Agass.
I mean, beyond working under the hottest, richest man in the city, King's Estate comes with real perks.
Hottest?
The salary alone is enough to make anyone dream about landing the job, not to mention the bonuses. And let's not forget career growth—it's the kind of place where you don't just stay stuck in one position forever. If you work hard, you move up.
Then there are the benefits. Health insurance, travel allowances, exclusive company events—the kind of luxuries I've never had access to. And working in such a powerful company? That's basically a guaranteed boost to my résumé.
It's the kind of job that opens doors, the kind that makes people take you seriously.
And yet, here I am, wondering if I've already managed to screw it all up before even starting.
Well, King's Estate wasn't actually my first choice. In fact, it was my last. Ivy saw in a magazine that they were hiring, and on a whim, I decided to try my luck.
I wasn't expecting anything—not even a rejection email, honestly.
But then the email came. From King's Estate. While all the other companies rejected me, they wanted me to proceed to the next stage.
I was beyond happy.
I had assisted with secretarial duties back in university, gaining some experience to handle the role. I even spent time reading up on King's Estate, trying to get a feel for the working environment, hoping to at least sound like I knew what I was doing.
Everything was going smoothly. I got invited to take an aptitude test, sit for an oral interview, and was then asked to submit a recommendation letter from my school.
And that's where everything started falling apart.
I had reached out for the letter immediately, but it only arrived on the day I was supposed to submit it—well, that was partly my fault too.
If I had checked my email sooner, I would have seen it earlier.
The entire smooth transition crashed with that one late letter, which I submitted not only at the last possible second but directly to the CEO of King's Estate himself.
I keep replaying it in my head, wondering—did my little stunt already disqualify me?
For all I know, Richard King thinks I'm disorganized and have zero sense of time management.
Fuck.
The following day—Tuesday—I spent most of it in bed, glued to my laptop, refreshing my email over and over again, just in case I missed something.
Mom had been worried, telling me to calm down and check every few hours instead. But I couldn't.
Every ping from my phone sent me scrambling, and every time I tried to relax, the anxiety churned in my stomach, forcing me to check again.
I woke up exhausted, my body heavy from a restless night of tossing and turning. The first thing I did was grab my phone, my fingers automatically tapping the email app before I could even process my actions.
No new messages.
I groaned, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face into the pillow.
This was ridiculous. I had submitted my letter, albeit at the last possible second, but submitted it nonetheless.
Surely if they weren't going to hire me, they would have at least rejected me by now.
Maybe they were still reviewing applicants?
Or maybe I was so bad that they didn't even think I was worth a response.
The thought made my stomach twist.
I reached for my laptop, opened my email again, and refreshed it.
Nothing.
By midday, Mom had gotten tired of watching me obsess over my inbox and practically ordered me to leave my room.
"Lil, come eat," she called from the kitchen, her voice firm.
I dragged myself out of bed, my feet feeling like lead as I made my way to the dining table. Ivy and Ethan were already seated, Ethan scrolling through his phone as he shoveled spoonfuls of pasta salad into his mouth.
"You're still sulking?" Ivy raised a brow at me.
"I'm not sulking," I muttered, pulling my chair out and grabbing a fork.
"You look like someone who just got dumped."
"I wish I was dumped," I groaned, stabbing at my food. "At least then I'd have closure."
Mom shook her head. "Give yourself a break, Lil. If something comes, it comes. If it doesn't, you move on."
Move on. That was easy to say when you weren't the one potentially missing out on a life-changing job.
Still, I forced myself to eat, though every bite felt tasteless in my mouth.
Wednesday
Same routine. Same disappointment.
I was starting to feel pathetic—glued to my screen, checking every notification like a desperate ex waiting for a text that would never come.
By noon, I had given up pacing in my room and dragged myself to the couch. Ethan was playing a game on his tablet, Ivy beside him, scrolling through Instagram while absentmindedly munching on pretzels.
I didn't have the energy to ask what she was looking at.
"Lil," she finally said, tapping her nails against her phone. "Why don't you just email them? Ask if they're still reviewing?"
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "Do you know how pathetic that would sound? Hey, did you forget to reject me?"
Ethan snorted. "Actually, that would be hilarious."
I threw a pillow at him, and he dodged it easily.
Ivy laughed. "I'm serious, though. You never know, maybe they did forget."
I groaned, throwing my head back against the couch. "God, I wish I could just forget this whole thing."
"Well, you should at least try to stop obsessing," Mom chimed in from the kitchen. "Why don't you and Ivy go out? Clear your head."
"Not in the mood," I muttered.
Mom sighed but didn't push further.
For the rest of the day, I tried not to care. I really tried.
But each time my phone buzzed, my chest tightened—only to deflate again when it was just a random promotion email or Ivy sending me memes.
Thursday Morning
I woke up feeling… done.
No more obsessing. No more refreshing.
If King's Estate wanted me, they would have said something by now.
I forced myself up, stretched, and for the first time that week, did not check my phone first thing in the morning.
That was progress, right?
I spent the morning keeping myself busy—helping Mom with chores, scrolling through social media, anything that wasn't related to job applications.
Just as I was settling onto the couch, the doorbell rang.
I sighed, pushing myself up. Probably a delivery or a neighbor.
When I pulled the door open, I barely had time to process what was happening before Sophia launched herself at me, wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug.
"OH MY GOD, LIL!"
I stumbled back, laughing as I hugged her tightly. "Sophia?!"
"I missed you, you traitor!" she huffed, pulling away just enough to inspect my face, as if confirming I was still the same person. "How could you let me go this long without seeing you? Unacceptable."
Sophia once sat on my bed with a full vision board pinned to her iPad—Kingsland skyline, Arvid & Co's banner, and a caption that read "Future Senior Stylist." She loved the city—the energy, the familiarity, the connections she had built over the years. She had spent most of her life here, convinced she'd carve out her future right in the place she called home.
And for a while, it seemed possible.
Straight out of college, she landed a job as a junior stylist at Arvid & Co, a mid-tier fashion brand known for its trendy seasonal collections. It wasn't the biggest name, but it was a decent start. She worked tirelessly, hoping to climb the ranks, imagining a future where she could establish herself as a recognized fashion consultant.
But the industry in Kingsland was ruthless.
Competition was fierce, and despite her skills, promotions were slow. Opportunities seemed to slip past her, and the people above her refused to make space.
Then came the layoffs.
Arvid & Co decided to restructure, cutting half the junior staff. Sophia had been one of them.
Just like that, she was out.
She spent months hunting for another job, bouncing between freelance gigs, styling for small boutiques—anything that could pay the bills. But nothing was stable, and the weight of uncertainty grew heavier.
That was when Everstead came into the picture.
A former colleague who had moved there reached out, telling her about an opening at Delaire, an exclusive luxury boutique. The catch? It was in Everstead—a completely different city, miles away from everything she knew.
At first, she hesitated.
Leaving Kingsland meant starting over. It meant unfamiliar streets, a new industry landscape, no safety net.
But the truth was, staying wasn't an option anymore.
So she took the leap.
She packed her bags, boarded the train to Everstead, and threw herself into the unknown.
Now, a year later, she was back for a visit.
And the first thing she did was show up at my doorstep, throwing herself at me like no time had passed.
I grinned. "You were the one jet-setting across Everstead! I thought you forgot about us lowly Agass residents."
She gasped dramatically. "I would never forget you! You are my favorite introverted disaster."
I laughed, shaking my head as I finally stepped aside to let her in.
Sophia marched straight into the living room, dropping onto the couch with a satisfied sigh. "I need updates. All of them. Now."
Ivy looked up from her phone, then blinked in surprise. "Sophia?! You're back?"
Sophia smirked. "The one and only."
Ivy immediately got up, throwing her arms around her before flopping beside her. "Finally! Lily's been boring without you."
Sophia turned to me. "Are you seriously still living life on autopilot?"
I rolled my eyes, sitting across from them. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."
Sophia scoffed, tossing her sunglasses onto the coffee table. "Fine? That's it? You act like I haven't been gone for a year."
I rolled my eyes. "Maybe if you had visited sooner, I'd have more exciting things to tell you."
She gasped dramatically. "You wound me, Lil."
"She's right, though." Ivy, sprawled across the couch like she had nothing better to do, flicked her gaze up from her phone. "You've been gone forever. What finally dragged you back here?"
Sophia sighed, stretching her legs out. "Honestly? I needed a break. Everstead is great, but it's exhausting. Everything moves fast—deadlines, events, clients with ridiculous demands. A few weeks ago, I found myself mentally rehearsing outfit consultations in my sleep."
I raised a brow. "Impressive. And concerning."
Sophia groaned, flopping back dramatically. "Exactly. I was in way too deep. I needed to step away—reset, breathe. And where better to do that than Kingsland?"
Ivy hummed, considering this. "So this is a work detox?"
Sophia grinned. "And a reunion, obviously. I missed you guys."
Ethan, who had been mostly quiet, finally looked up from his tablet. "So, you're here to relax… and drag Lily into whatever chaos you're planning?"
Sophia's grin widened. "Absolutely."
I sighed, shaking my head. "Figures."
Sophia leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Which brings me to the trip. Tasha's birthday weekend. No stress, no work, just fun."
I leaned back against the couch, watching as Sophia's excitement practically radiated off her. "Tasha's birthday?"
Sophia nodded, already grinning. "Yeah, and you need to be there. Trust me, I can't handle that group on my own."
Ivy raised a brow. "You mean Tasha's group?"
Sophia groaned, rubbing her temple. "Yes. You know how she is."
Tasha was the kind of girl who thrived on attention—loud, dramatic, always chasing the next thrill. If it had money or status attached to it, she was interested. Expensive brands, VIP lounges, influencers—she surrounded herself with people who fit her version of success, whether real or carefully curated.
But despite her exaggerated lifestyle, she had her moments.
She wasn't entirely unreliable.
Just… unpredictable.
"It'll be chaos," Sophia continued, "but I need someone sane there, and that's you."
I scoffed. "So I'm your emotional support human?"
"Pretty much," she smirked. "Besides, you need a break."
Ivy perked up instantly. "What exactly are we doing?"
Sophia smirked. "Beach house, sunset dinners, maybe some hiking—don't worry, nothing too extreme. And, of course, cocktails."
Ivy let out a satisfied sigh. "That actually sounds nice."
Ethan snorted. "Do I get an invite, or is this strictly an 'adults-who-think-they're-cool' trip?"
Sophia laughed. "Sorry, kid. No sixteen-year-olds allowed."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just don't call me to bail you out when your 'relaxing getaway' turns into some crazy adventure."
Ivy threw a pillow at him. "We don't get into trouble!"
Ethan caught the pillow midair, unimpressed. "Sure."
I laughed, shaking my head. After the past week of anxiously refreshing my email, the idea of stepping away—just for a weekend—actually sounded good.
"Fine. I'll go."
Sophia squealed. "YES! I knew you'd cave."
I chuckled. "I need a distraction anyway."
"Perfect." She pulled out her phone. "I'll send you the details tonight."
The conversation shifted into easy chatter—stories from Everstead, ridiculous fashion mishaps, a few nostalgic memories from college.
For a while, things felt normal.
Relaxed.
Like the old days, before responsibilities got complicated.
And for the first time in weeks, I wasn't thinking about my inbox.
Not yet, anyway.
Thursday Evening
The house had settled into its usual quiet. Mom was in her room, Ivy was lounging in the living room scrolling through fashion blogs, and Ethan was somewhere—probably deep into another gaming session.
I stretched out on my bed, phone in hand, finally feeling lighter.
Just as I was about to scroll mindlessly through social media, my phone pinged.
I exhaled, expecting Sophia's email—probably the party details and the ticket for the trip.
I opened my inbox, skimming the notifications lazily…
Then I froze.
Appointment Letter—Personal Assistant to the CEO
My breath hitched.
I sat up, phone gripped tightly, as I stared at the words on the screen.
I tapped the email open, scanning the text again and again, as if the meaning might change.
Wait.
I got the job.
I got the job.
Excitement rushed through me, fast and overwhelming, before a flicker of hesitation crept in.
It wasn't the secretary position.
Instead, the email read clearly:
You have been selected for the role of Personal Assistant to the CEO, Richard King.
I blinked.
That wasn't what I applied for.
A slight frown tugged at my lips as I read it again, trying to make sense of it. Had they changed their decision after the interview? Did they think I was suited for a more demanding role?
It wasn't bad—actually, it was better than I had expected.
But why me?
I barely had time to process it before I jumped up, practically rushing out of my room.
"I GOT THE JOB!"
Ivy jerked up, blinking at me before her face lit up. "NO WAY!"
Ethan, halfway through grabbing a snack from the kitchen, paused, holding a spoonful of cereal mid-air. "Finally."
Mom emerged from her room, eyebrows raised before a warm smile spread across her face. "That's wonderful, sweetheart!"
I stood there, still catching my breath, gripping my phone tightly, excitement buzzing through me.
"But... it's not the secretary position."
Ivy frowned. "Wait, what do you mean?"
Mom took a step closer, concern flashing across her face. "Did they change something?"
I swallowed hard, staring back at my screen before I said it.
"They hired me as Richard King's Personal Assistant instead."
There was a pause.
Then Ivy gasped dramatically, eyes wide with amusement.
"Wait. THE Richard King's personal assistant?"
Ethan snorted, finally taking a bite of his cereal. "You're doomed."
Mom, ever the practical one, nodded encouragingly. "That sounds even better, sweetheart. More responsibility, a higher position—this is a great opportunity."
Ivy, however, had zero interest in the professional benefits.
"You're telling me… you're going to work directly with him? In his office? Attending meetings? Handling his schedule?"
I sighed, shaking my head. "It's just a job, Ivy."
She smirked. "Mmm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that."
I rolled my eyes, not even entertaining her antics.
It wasn't about him. It was about the job—a huge opportunity, bigger than what I had aimed for.
Ivy, though, wasn't about to let this go.
Mom cleared her throat, giving Ivy a subtle warning glance, which she conveniently ignored.
Ethan leaned against the counter, still eating. "You'll last, like, a month before the tabloids start making up stories."
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. "Not helping."
Mom gently rested a hand on my arm, her voice reassuring. "Sweetheart, this is a great step forward. You're going to do well."
I breathed out, her words grounding me. "Thanks, Mom."
Before I could fully process everything, Ivy clapped her hands.
"Okay, but serious talk—you need clothes. Workwear. And a dress for the party. We have to go shopping tomorrow."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Fine."
She grinned, victorious. "Perfect. You're finally making good decisions."
I exhaled, staring back at my screen.
Richard King's Personal Assistant.
Excitement warred with unease in my chest.
I had no idea what I had just signed up for.