Chapter 1

Isabella

Months later...

"What are you doing? You need to take a flight and return home, to your home, with your family," Julio ordered on the other end of the line. I heard complaints, then I heard, "I'll talk to her." I sighed upon hearing Esteban's voice. "Isa?"

"Here I am," I replied in a low, depressed tone.

"Have you sent out job applications online? Start doing that. Just because you couldn't be the best employee in that company you joined doesn't mean you can't be elsewhere."

"I will return home," I finally said.

"No, what you will do is take a shower. I imagine you're lying on the couch in your apartment, eating ice cream." I pursed my lips and reluctantly set down the spoon in the nearly empty ice cream container.

"It's better to go back. I haven't been able to find a job as an administrator. There are others who are better than me."

"You will find a job, even if it's in a different field, but don't give up," I heard Luis nearby. "Let me talk to her too." I closed my eyes, not wanting to cry with him. "Are you there?" It was Luis.

"Yes."

"What do you want to do? Come work at the family bakery or keep fighting for your dream?"

"I want to cry. I'm drowning financially. I want to take what's left and leave this country."

"We have savings. We can send you money for another month of rent and your bills. If you don't find anything by then, come back to us. We'll figure out a way to keep you active."

"Thank you... really, thank you to all three of you." After saying my goodbyes to them on speakerphone, I heard their well-wishes. I took a bath, dressed up, and scanned the living room for my laptop. I found it buried under a pile of unfolded clothes, and I plugged it in when the battery was almost dead. "What will you do, Isa?" I spent the whole afternoon sending online job applications to all the companies in Toronto. From where I was, I could see the beautiful scenery. As I had done well eight months ago, I was able to save up to look for an apartment, but everything was expensive in the city. This place had been a steal. I received a notification message, and when I saw it, it was from Julio:

"Have you sent out the job applications yet?" my brother Julio asked again. I let out a tired sigh.

"Yes, for the twentieth time, yes, Julio. Stop making me more nervous than I already am," I replied. Julio sent a sticker with an animated drawing showing disapproval with pursed lips. A week ago, they had found out about my real situation here in Toronto, Canada. The company I had been working for, where I had been doing quite well, had terminated my contract earlier than expected due to problems. They were in the process of declaring bankruptcy. So, I was one of the lucky ones to receive some extra money to survive for a few months while I looked for a job. But it had been three months and I couldn't find a job in my field of study. I looked around my apartment. If I continued at this rate, I would have to end up selling the furniture and my beloved nearly seventy-inch TV mounted on the wall in front of me. I covered myself with the blanket again and looked at the screen, hoping to see a notification email for an interview or something.

The ringtone of my cellphone sounded in the distance. It was faced down on my sofa, my mouth slightly open, one foot dangling in the air as the song “Sugar” by Maroon 5 came to a halt. I shifted to readjust myself, pulled the blanket and covered myself up to my chin, but it left my feet exposed. My cellphone rang again, and I squinted my eyes open, stretching my hand over the coffee table in the middle of the living room. The cellphone vibrated to the rhythm of the song. I picked it up and, with closed eyes, slid my finger to answer the untimely call that came so late.

"Isabella Sanchez speaking, and you?” My voice was groggy.

"Miss Sanchez Figueroa, my name is Eleanor Bruce from Ashgar Enterprises. We have received your online application," I opened my eyes wider when I heard that and immediately sat up in one swift motion. "We have a vacancy available only for today, taking into consideration that you were recommended by..." she paused, "Sophia Maxwell, who was previously the head of accounting and finance at WB Automotive. The interview is scheduled in one hour."

"Yes, of course, in one hour," I looked at the wall clock and squinted my sleepy eyes as I realized it was already 5 in the morning. It wasn't nighttime; I had slept through the entire afternoon and night. "God, I've slept like a bear about to hibernate," I cleared my throat immediately.

"Perfect, I'll be expecting you in one hour. Thank you," the woman on the other end of the line said kindly.

"Thank you," I ended the call and looked around the room. The television was without any programming. "Now they've cut off the cable," I pursed my lips. I quickly thought about what to wear, looking at my animal-print pajamas. I sighed and tried to wake myself up to feel more alert. I quickly typed a message in the family messaging group, telling them what had just happened. Everyone replied, encouraging me to give it my all and reminding me that if I didn't succeed, there could be other opportunities, but not to get discouraged. I decided to have a quick breakfast first. My mind was a whirlwind of images of what I could wear for the interview. Some of the clothes didn't fit quite right due to the extra pounds I had gained. I knew that had to change. I would walk more and exercise in the mornings or when I got the job. I got up and headed to the kitchen, checking the last bit of food I had left. I prepared a strong cup of coffee and grabbed the last pieces of bread to toast with peanut butter. While it was cooking, I hurried to my room in search of a decent and presentable outfit. Why didn't I have some clothes ready, just in case they called? "Why didn't you think they would call so soon..." I sighed and picked up the pace. The cellphone rang, and when I saw who was calling on the screen, I closed my eyes tightly, then opened them to answer. "Good morning, Luis.”

―Isa, good morning. Let's say a little prayer to calm you down and have faith in yourself that you will nail this interview.

―Now? I have to be at the building in an hour, and I don't have a car, so I have to run like crazy, and I still need to get ready.

―Five minutes,‖ my brother said. ―Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then exhale to relax your body.‖ I wasn't really doing it; I put him on speakerphone and continued rummaging through my closet. I chose a two-piece outfit, a navy blue blazer and pencil skirt. ―God, give my sister Isabella wisdom so that...‖ I heard in the background.

―Forgive me, brother, but I'll be late,‖ I murmured while picking out stockings, high-heeled shoes, and underwear.

―Amen,‖ Luis said on the other end of the line.

―Amen!‖ I said, managing to be on time for the call.

―Great, let us know how it goes!‖ they exclaimed in the distance.

―Thank you! May they sell lots of bread!‖ I replied, then ended the call. I entered the bathroom like a bolt of lightning, took a super quick shower, and after getting out, I followed my skincare routine, massages, and five minutes later, I was struggling to squeeze into my two-piece suit. "This can't be! Have I gained that much weight?" I looked at myself in the mirror; the skirt was quite snug around my hips. "You shouldn't have learned how to bake bread, Isa," I complained under my breath. I managed to zip up the skirt and the blouse was a "Look at me but don't touch" situation, but it was the best in my wardrobe. I had sold most of my clothes weeks ago, keeping the best pieces for potential job interviews. Now, because of lounging on the couch with ice cream every day... I had gained weight. "You can do it..." I muttered as I buttoned up my blouse. If I slouched, those buttons would fly like golf balls at anyone in front of or near me. I pulled my black hair into a neat low bun, not a single strand out of place, applied simple makeup, then grabbed my cellphone and bag, found the keys to the apartment, and rushed out. Hoping to make it on time, I sat by the window, looking at the street signs, then at my cellphone screen, which assured me I would be there in less than ten minutes. That was good because I would still have five minutes before it turned 6 in the morning.

I walked the block before arriving at the large but intimidating glass building with the name "Ashgar Export" displayed on top. I took a deep breath and exhaled softly; there were people entering the building. "Breathe, you can do it," I told myself as I walked inside. When I passed through those revolving doors, I was stunned by the beauty of the place. There was a huge lobby with high ceilings and windows that couldn't be seen from the outside. Now, from where I stood, I could see the city's morning traffic.

"Good morning, can I help you, miss?" a tall, beautiful blonde woman in a well-pressed suit smiled kindly at me.

"Good morning, yes, I'm here for an interview. I'm...‖ I cleared my throat. "I'm Isabella Sanchez Figueroa. I was scheduled for an interview at six."

"Very well, do you remember the name of the person who called you?" she asked politely.

"Eleanor Bruce," I replied, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise before composing herself.

"You're here for an interview for Mr. Ashgar's personal assistant position," she said, furrowing her forehead.

"No, I think there's been a mistake. I'm here for an interview as an administrator," I replied, and she also furrowed her beautiful brow. My cellphone vibrated inside my bag.

"Well, you can take that elevator," she pointed to one where several employees were entering. I was surprised that people were coming to work at this hour. "And press the last button. It's the executive floor. You'll find Eleonor Bruce there."

"Thank you," I walked, trying to stand straight so that the buttons on my chest wouldn't fly off. I entered the elevator along with others who got off on their respective floors until I was completely alone. The doors opened when I reached the top floor, and a stern-looking woman arched an eyebrow and gave me a once-over. "I know I could poke her eye out if a button popped off right now," I thought. She smiled at me and then sighed.

"Welcome, are you... Isabella Sanchez Figueroa?" she confirmed. I nodded. "You can follow me; Mr. Ashgar himself will be interviewing you."