Celeste sighed as she heaved the cupcake tray out of the oven. Wiping her brow with one hand and holding the tray in the other, she turned and closed the oven door with her foot. She dropped the tray on the work table and let out another sigh. It had been two years since she had started working at Marie's and she was tired. She had taken this job out of desperation, and it seemed like she couldn't get out of it.
It was 6pm and Celeste had just finished her final shift at the bakery. She was hungry and tired, and the thought of going home to have a nice, long bath was the only thing lifting up her spirits at the moment. The Brooklyn rain however, didn't care about her feelings.
The horns, music, sirens, rain and chatter all seemed to blend into a chaotic symphony of noise. Celeste was late, drenched and seething. If she missed the train home, she'd be home by midnight, and knowing the type of sleeper she was, her alarm would definitely betray her in the morning. Marie had given her two warnings already. If she arrived late at work for the third time there was a 99% chance of Celeste losing her job. She hated this job, but losing it would set her back even further in debt.
A text came in on her phone. "Your time is almost up. 3 more months and you're done for."
She gripped her umbrella tighter and tried to increase her slow, careful steps to a wobbling jog. She had to get on that train, no matter what. Zigzagging through the chaos with her eyes barely open, she brushed against a cyclist who was repeatedly ringing his bell in warning.
The Lexus LFA pulled up to the curb with its stylistic rev. Adrian Moretti was in no mood to tolerate any nonsense after the shitty meeting he had just wrapped up with his investors. Different emotions raced through his mind. His anger was building up, wrapping around his head and squeezing tight in the form of a tension headache. He stepped out of the car, shoving the door open. Celeste's right shoulder caught it, the momentum flinging her sideways. She stumbled and slipped, and right before she could use her leg to reposition her center of gravity, the wet asphalt pulled her straight to the ground. Time froze. From all corners of the street, phones appeared, capturing the entire moment.
The scene was a whirlwind of chaos. The CEO's sharp cold glare fixed Celeste's shoulder, which was now bent at an awkward angle. "You're a monster," she spat before blacking out.
Tears rolled down her eyes as she played the video again. "It seems like clout chasers are on the rise lately. This girl wants to be owed by a CEO so bad, that she faked an accident. This is the twenty first century girl, nobody believes you, so you better get your ass up and go to work like the rest of us." The video showed Celeste in the background clutching her broken shoulder. The video had already gotten thousands of views, and all Celeste's comments frantically trying to explain the situation had already been deleted by the creator. She opened her messages to the dreaded text that had been laying there unreplied. "Your time is almost up. Three more months and you're done for."
The odds were slowly stacking against her and she knew she had to find a solution. A quick plan formed in her head. "Hey Siri, what's the phone number for Moretti enterprises?" she spoke into her phone's mic with a smirk.
Different videos had begun to encircle social media feeds. It was as if the internet had been divided into two factions, one accusing the CEO of colliding with Celeste, and the other claiming Celeste had faked the accident.
Celeste sat across Adrian Moretti in his office on the top floor of Moretti Enterprises. She didn't even try to hide the livid glare on her face. She placed her arm which was enclosed in a sling on the large conference table and leaned forward. "You owe me," she said through gritted teeth.
"The optics are terrible," Ila Waithe, his PR director, said, pulling up social media feeds on the massive screen. "You're trending for all the wrong reasons. The board is panicking, investors are freaking out, and three brand partnerships have already pulled out. We need to make sure that #SplashGate is gone forever."
Adrian's fingers drummed on the table. "So, I'll release a statement. Make a donation."
"We tried that." Ila's voice was firm. "It's not working. The public doesn't want your money, they want accountability. They want to see that you're human, and you can be apologetic when you need to."
"I am human," he said coldly.
"Then prove it." Ila turned to Celeste. "You two need to be seen together. Not as aggressor and victim, but as...something else."
Celeste's stomach dropped. "You can't possibly be serious."
"A relationship," Ila continued. "It doesn't have to be real. Just convincing. A few months of public appearances, some carefully curated social media moments. The narrative would shift from 'careless CEO' to 'unlikely romance.' By the time you 'break up,' the video will be ancient history."
"Absolutely not," Celeste said.
"I'll pay you." Adrian's voice cut through her objection. He had stood up from the table and was now staring outside the massive awning. "Fifty thousand dollars. More than enough for your grandmother's medical bills and then some."
The room went silent. Celeste's throat tightened. How did he know about that?
"We did our research," Ila said gently, reading her expression. "We know you've been struggling. This helps both of you."
Celeste looked at Adrian. His expression changed from unreadable to a stoic, calculated gaze.
She thought of her grandmother's hospital bills stacking up, the eviction notice she'd received last week. Her days at culinary school flashed before her eyes. She remembered that cold text which she still hadn't replied to. This could be her only way out.
"Three months," she said, surprising herself. She had never been this sharp giving an ultimatum. "And seventy-five thousand."
Adrian finally looked at her, a smirk playing at his lips. "You make a sharp negotiator, Miss Lucas, but I'll give you the 50k, and you can shut your mouth about it."
Celeste slammed her fist on the table, her fury rising. "You can be a thief and a cheat for all I care, but we have no deal if you're not paying me seventy-five thousand dollars."
Adrian gulped in panic. It seemed like Celeste knew something, and he wasn't going to take any chances before finding out what exactly she knew, and how she found out.
"Done," he said.