“I understand. Thank you for your time,” Jasmine replied with a dignity that painfully contrasted the humiliation burning in her cheeks.
She stood, straightened her back, and walked out with steady steps, refusing to let them see a single tear. What Jasmine didn’t know—what she couldn’t even imagine as she crossed the marble lobby feeling small and insignificant—was that the scene hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Behind a one-way mirror overlooking the interview room, Ethan Caldwell, the owner of the entire empire, had watched every second. At thirty-five, Ethan was tired—tired of the fakeness, the rehearsed smiles, the expensive suits hiding incompetence, and the people who only saw him as a bank account. He had come down to observe interviews out of boredom, but what he found was something he hadn’t seen in years: authenticity.
He saw how Jasmine clutched her worn handbag not with fear, but with determination. He saw how she lifted her chin under the recruiter’s disdain. And he saw a fire in her eyes money couldn’t buy.
“Who is she?” Ethan asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence in the observation room.