The sound of the alarm vibrated in my ear, and I slowly opened my eyes, feeling my heart race with that good expectation that I hadn't felt in so long. Today is the day. My first step towards changing my story. I sat up in bed and stayed there for a few seconds, trying to organize my mind, which was already buzzing with a thousand thoughts. I was excited, anxious, and above all, determined.
I got up and went straight to the bathroom, turning on the shower while yawning. I let the warm water fall over my body.
I did my morning routine calmly, letting my hair dry naturally while brushing my teeth and applying a light cream to my face. I chose a floral dress, made of light fabric, with soft shades of blue and pink that always made me feel more alive. On my feet, comfortable sandals that matched perfectly with the hot day that was promised. I put on small gold hoop earrings and a delicate necklace that I kept like a treasure — a gift from my mother in happier times.
I paused for a moment in front of the mirror. I let my hair down, adjusted a few strands, and smiled slightly at my reflection. It was a stronger version of myself looking back at me. A woman who had survived storms that few knew about.
In the small kitchen, I made a strong black coffee and two slices of bread with cream cheese. I ate quickly, my stomach tight with anxiety. Then I checked once more if my folder with the drawings was complete. It was. Three ring designs for the wedding of the company's CEO. I took care in every stroke as if I were drawing for myself, as if those rings were to tell my story.
I grabbed my bag and the folder, took a deep breath, and went down the stairs of the building. Outside, the sun was still shy in the blue sky. I called a taxi through the app, and while waiting on the sidewalk, my cell phone vibrated in my hand. I smiled when I saw the name that appeared on the screen.
Leon.
I answered immediately, feeling his joy cross the line like a hug.
"Good morning, working girl," he said, with that animated tone that always managed to bring a smile to my face.
"Good morning, Leon," I replied, laughing. "I'm going now, for a presentation at the company that gave me an opportunity."
"You really got it?" he asked, and you could hear the genuine happiness in his voice.
"I did. At Moreau's Jewels. A special ring design project. I'm still trying to believe it's real."
"I knew it, Helen, I always knew it. You deserve this. You deserve much more," he said with such conviction that I felt my eyes water. "But I'm sad that you didn't accept working with me."
"Thank you, Leon. Really. You've always been with me, even in my worst moments. But you know why I didn't accept, let's not talk about that now."
"I know, know that I'll always be with you. Go there and rock it, Hel. I want all the details later." He hung up.
I promised I would call to tell him everything. The taxi pulled up to the sidewalk, and I said goodbye, putting my cell phone in my bag and adjusting the folder in my lap as I got into the car.
During the ride, I looked out the window, watching the city wake up in a frantic rhythm. Hurried people crossed the sidewalks, horns echoed in the air, cafes filled the sidewalks with inviting smells. New York has always been like that, vibrant, pulsating, alive. And I, for the first time in a long time, felt that I belonged to that movement. That my life was finally starting to get somewhere.
I squeezed the folder against my chest, feeling the nervousness grow. I wanted to do everything perfectly. Show that I was capable. Show that I deserved that chance.
The taxi stopped in front of the Moreau's Jewels building. I paid the fare, got out of the car, and looked up. The building seemed to touch the sky. A structure of glass and steel so imposing that it made me swallow hard for a second. But I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed towards the revolving doors.
The security guard smiled at me politely as he opened the door.
"Good morning, miss."
"Good morning," I replied, feeling my heart beat fast.
The lobby was huge, covered in white and gold marble, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and receptionists elegantly stationed behind imposing counters. Everything smelled of power, success, and exclusivity.
I walked to the reception, trying to maintain my composure.
"My name is Helen Dupont. I'm here for the special ring design project," I informed, smiling more confidently than I really felt.
The receptionist, a woman with a professional smile and precise movements, checked something on the computer before handing me a temporary badge.
"Go up to the eighteenth floor, Miss Dupont. Miss Clara will receive you."
I thanked her and went to the elevators, pressing the button with a hand that trembled slightly. The elevator arrived, and I entered along with a few other people who seemed as hurried as they were elegant. The golden mirror of the elevator reflected my image.
When the doors opened on the eighteenth floor, I got out and was greeted by Clara, an elegant and extremely efficient woman.
"Good morning, Miss Dupont. Welcome," she said with a restrained smile. "I hope you're ready. Your work will be very important to us."
"I am, thank you for the opportunity," I replied, trying to remain calm.
"Follow me, please!"
Clara led me through a wide corridor, with glass walls and modern paintings hanging in minimalist frames. Every detail of that floor exuded elegance and efficiency.
We entered a small room next door, where a light wood table occupied the center, and on it were some papers.
"Before we start, Miss Dupont, it will be necessary to sign the service agreement," Clara explained in a firm and gentle voice. "It's a standard company procedure. We formalize your participation in the project and guarantee your collaboration indefinitely, if both parties are satisfied with the performance."
I nodded, walking to the table. I picked up the contract and read it carefully.
The document was clear. I would provide my services as a jewelry designer for Moreau's Jewels, contributing with exclusive creations, under a clause of absolute confidentiality. In case of breach of contract, whether due to non-compliance with deadlines, leakage of information, or abandonment of the project, a termination fine of $50,000 dollars would be applied.
Fifty thousand dollars?
It was more money than I had seen together in my entire life.
For a moment, I thought. But then I looked at the folder carrying my drawings.
I remembered my mother, her struggle, the struggle that was mine too, and I signed.
My name slid on the paper with the firmness of someone who had already lost too much to back down now.
Clara collected the contract with a slight smile and handed me a copy.
"Very well. Now, please come with me. The meeting room is ready."
I followed her steps silently, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. We stopped in front of a large double door made of dark wood.
"Everyone is waiting," Clara said, offering an encouraging smile. "Except for the CEO, but he will join us soon. Don't worry. All you need to do is present your talent. You are here because you are good at what you do."
I nodded, swallowing the anxiety.
Clara pushed one of the doors open and gestured for me to enter.
The room was spacious, lit by natural light coming through the huge windows. A long meeting table dominated the space, surrounded by men and women in dark suits and attentive expressions. Executives. Directors. People who probably made decisions that changed lives with a stroke of a pen.
I took a deep breath and walked to the end of the table where a chair awaited me. I placed the folder on the table, arranging it carefully, and sat down, keeping my posture upright, even with the urge to disappear inside the floral dress that seemed so out of place in that serious environment.
Some glances crossed. Some smiles were brief, others just formal. It was the kind of reception given to someone who still needs to prove their worth.
I stood there, waiting, while they talked among themselves in a low voice, leafing through documents, adjusting watches, checking cell phones.
I looked at the door, waiting for the CEO who had not yet arrived. Waiting for the person who, without knowing it, had given me the biggest opportunity of my life, I was grateful.
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