Chapter 5

Jessica sat motionless in front of her vanity mirror, staring blankly at her own reflection.

There were no more tears left to cry. She had drained herself dry.

She needed to find a way out of this mess. She couldn't just stand by and watch her father suffer. Losing their house or the hardware store—those were things she could accept, even if she blamed him for their downfall. But letting him waste away, watching him be stripped of his dignity, of his health? She couldn't stomach that. The mere thought of him losing a kidney or any part of his body was enough to make her chest tighten in agony.

Taking a deep breath, she reached into her drawer and pulled out a business card—the one Mr. Guiller Moretti had given her.

He had told her he was willing to offer her a job.

She didn't know what kind of work he had in mind, and a part of her feared she wouldn't be able to stomach it. But what choice did she have?

If it came down to it, she would sell her own organs before she let her father go through that kind of suffering.

The next morning, Jessica woke up early—not for school, but for a different mission. She was going to see Mr. Moretti. She would beg if she had to. She would take any job, no matter what it was—so long as it meant her father would be safe.

"H-have some breakfast..." Her father's hesitant voice reached her as she passed through the living room.

He was wearing an apron, vacuuming the floor as if trying to distract himself. She ignored him, her heart still heavy with resentment. Without a word, she walked straight out of the house and headed for the nearest transport hub.

She took a taxi to the address printed on the card.

When she arrived, she found herself standing in front of a towering black skyscraper with gleaming gold-plated letters at the top— BE.

The building was massive, yet elegant, exuding power and wealth.

Jessica took a deep breath. Running away had never been an option. Not when the man she was about to meet owned something like this. If Mr. Guiller Moretti was this powerful, he had the kind of influence that could erase them from existence without anyone even noticing.

Steeling herself, she walked towards the entrance.

She approached the security personnel stationed at the front.

"I need to talk to Mr. Guiller Moretti. He gave me his card," she said, handing over the business card.

The security guard's eyes swept over her, scrutinizing her from head to toe.

Jessica held her ground, masking her nerves. She knew she didn't look like she belonged here. Dressed in a Superman T-shirt and ripped jeans, with her hair tied back in a ponytail, she probably looked like a teenager on a school field trip.

The guard radioed someone, speaking in low tones before turning back to her.

"May I have your name, Ma'am?" His tone was more respectful now, the skepticism gone.

"J-Jessica. Jessica Chongson," she answered.

He gave a small nod before relaying the name through his walkie-talkie. Moments later, he turned back to her.

"You may proceed to the 13th floor, Ma'am." He gestured towards the elevators.

"Thanks," she muttered before making her way inside.

The moment she stepped into the building, she was struck by its grandeur.

The air was cool, likely from a centralized system, and the interior was breathtaking. A massive fountain stood at the center of the lobby—a marble statue of a nude woman holding a vase at her side, water cascading down in elegant streams. Above it, an enormous crystal chandelier sparkled under the ambient lighting.

Beyond the fountain was a reception area, and to the side, a waiting lounge with plush leather couches. Large ornate vases, hand-painted with intricate designs, lined the space.

To her left, she spotted the elevator hallway.

Taking another deep breath, Jessica straightened her shoulders and walked towards it.

She had come this far. There was no turning back now.

She quickly noticed the way people were staring at her as she walked through the building.

And how could they not?

Everyone around her was dressed in crisp business attire, exuding an air of professionalism, while she looked like she was on her way to the marketplace. A wave of self-consciousness washed over her, making her instinctively lower her gaze.

She quietly joined the queue for the elevator and stepped inside as soon as the doors slid open.

"13th floor," she said to the elevator operator.

"Ma'am?" The man blinked at her, as if he hadn't heard her correctly.

"I said, I'm going to the 13th floor," she repeated, her voice firm but polite.

A murmur of hushed whispers filled the elevator.

She could feel the weight of their curious glances.

"What's their problem?" she wondered, irritation creeping in.