6

Evy

"Good morning, my name is Evy! Mr. D’Ang..."

"Of course, Mr. D'Angelo is expecting you!" I don't reciprocate the secretary's cordial smile as she kindly opens the door for me because I'm so nervous I don't even know how to react at this moment. What could I do, beg not to be fired? Humiliate myself so he might take pity on me? No! My father always taught us that we should have some integrity, and if I have to stay in this job, it will be by acknowledging my mistakes and fixing them the best I can. And if he doesn't accept me into his company, I'll find another job, right? Damn it, it's not that easy, Evy! You're desperate, that's a fact!

I enter an extremely spacious and well-lit office and can't help but notice the details of the light furniture in perfect contrast with the black and charcoal gray décor. Behind an imposing mahogany desk sits a man too young for such an important position. Dark-skinned, square-faced, with a stubble that made him look masculine and piercing. His dark eyes gaze at me in a firm and unreadable manner. However, I don't let myself be shaken—or I pretend not to be shaken because my whole body is trembling inside. I stop in front of his desk, still subtly observing the smallest details about him. His hair is cut short close to his nape, yet a few strands insist on falling onto his forehead. A memory flashes through my head. It's him! The man who prevented my fall in the meeting room a few days ago.

"You need to say something, Evy," I growl to myself, swallowing hard.

"Ah... good morning, Mr. D’Angelo!" I force my voice to sound as natural as possible because I don't want him to notice my nervousness.

"Please, have a seat, Miss Dixon," he points to a chair in front of me, completely ignoring my courtesy. Without contesting, I sit, not expecting him to say anything.

"Sir, I'm not sure if I did something to displease you, but I apologize in advance! This is my first job, and I really need it..." Damn, this is definitely a plea, and I swore I wouldn't do this! I take a deep breath and wait for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just looks at me with an uncomfortable silence. His eyes roam across my face as if studying every gesture of mine. Unsettled, I adjust in the chair, clear my throat, and continue. "Look, if I broke something, you can deduct it from my salary. If it's something I forgot, I ask for a second chance. It's just that... I have a mother and she..."

"I know!" I stop talking when a deep sound comes from his mouth.

"You do?"

"Yes. I know everything I need to know about you, Miss Dixon," D’Angelo continues. "Evy Dixon, daughter of the late Andrew Dixon who passed away just over two weeks ago in a tragic car accident. Your brother John Dixon is a typical spoiled child who always had your mother's blessing to do whatever he pleased and spend the family's money on frivolities and parties. I must say, it's what he's best at due to his track record," he grumbles. "And as soon as he saw the opportunity, he left home, leaving his younger sister—meaning you—to deal with the family's bankruptcy issues. Your mother Judy Dixon is currently in a nursing home, supposedly treating post-traumatic depression, which you believe she has, but what she really has is a serious brain tumor discovered about seven months ago." I furrow my brow in confusion at this detailed report of my life, confessing I'm also stunned.

"How do you know all of this?" I inquire, swallowing hard.

"As I said, I know everything I need to know about you, Evy," he leans back in his chair. What should I think? Why did he investigate my life like this? What's the purpose of all this?

"Okay, what's this nonsense?" I ask somewhat irritated, standing up from the chair to face him.

"Sit down!" He orders, and I find myself obeying. "I need you for a special task, and you certainly need this job to take care of your mother and get rid of the debts your father left behind." He stares at me in silence, and I'm uncertain what to say.

"What kind of task?" For a fraction of a second, my heart races in my chest, and I think, could this be my big chance? Perhaps Mr. D'Angelo discovered my résumé and decided to give me an opportunity to work in my field. Oh God, that would be heaven!

"First, I need to tell you about the benefits of this task. If you accept my proposal, I'll take your mother out of the nursing home and put her in a clinic specialized in cancer treatment. I'll pay off all your debts, and at the end of it all, you'll receive a check estimated at two million dollars." Shocked, I stutter, but the words seem stuck in my throat. What's so special about this task to be worth that much money?

"What kind of task?" I insist. He lets out a breath through his mouth and takes a paper from his drawer, extending it to me.

"First, I need you to sign this confidentiality agreement, Miss Dixon. Nothing, absolutely nothing we discuss in this room must leave here, not even to your pet dog." I glance at the paper and then at the silver pen he holds in front of me, hesitating for a few moments.

Come on, Evy, it's just a confidentiality agreement, not a life sentence! And anyway, you're not obligated to anything, right? With a trembling hand, I take the pen and sign the document, passing it back to him.

"Great!" He hisses.

"And then?"

"I have a proposal for you. I've already given you the benefits, and I imagine I've sparked some interest."

"Please, get straight to the point, Mr. D’Angelo?" He arches his eyebrows, a small smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"I want you to be my wife for a year, Miss Dixon."

"What?!" I almost shout the question.

"You heard me right, I need you to be my wife for a year." Okay, is this some kind of joke? I think and start laughing in front of the man who looks at me puzzled but with determination.

"I get it, this is a joke, isn't it? There's a hidden camera in this room, right? Yes, there must be a camera here somewhere."

"No, there isn't!" He retorts so seriously and rudely that it makes me stop laughing. I take a deep breath. Honestly, I didn't know what to say, even less how to act faced with such an absurd proposal. "Do you really believe I'm the kind of man who would joke about something like this?" I take another breath.

"Oh, no... I suppose! It's just... unexpected. I mean, it's not every day I leave home for work and receive a proposal like this!" He keeps staring at me firmly, and I remain bewildered. However, I need to know the details of this. "And, how would that work?" I ask, feeling a bit uneasy.

"I have a contract that you can take home, of course. You can read it at your leisure, study each clause, and understand exactly how things will work between us. And, of course, if there's something you don't like, we can come to a common understanding."

"And if I don't accept?" His smile noticeably widens.

"You will accept," he says confidently. Arrogant! I growl inwardly. "Take the contract home, Dixon, read it as many times as you want, and when you're ready, give me a call." He hands me a white envelope and a card along with it. "Remember, no one can know about this conversation!" I raise a finger pointedly.

"Just one more thing, how did you find out about my mother's illness?" He makes a dismissive gesture.

"It was easy to pull the Dixon family's records."

"I don't understand. If my mother had cancer, she would have told me, right? I mean, it's not something you keep to yourself!"

"Well, that's something you'll have to ask her directly," I take a deep breath. "You're dismissed, Miss Dixon. You may return to your work now," he says coldly, and I simply nod, turning my back to him and walking towards the door. As I open it, tears fill my eyes, and I rush down the hallway.

"Miss Dixon, are you alright?" I hear his secretary ask, but I don't respond. I just step into the elevator. Cancer, why would she hide that from me? I ask myself, distressed, leaning against the suede wall.