As soon as Aurelia stepped out of the building after the interview, her heart was racing—like she had just been confessed to, or worse, questioned in a way she wasn't ready for.
"What does he think he is? Dal cuore freddo!" she muttered under her breath, walking faster than usual.
She stopped near the gate, crossed her arms, and mimicked him in a low voice, "I don't think that's the real reason."
Her brows furrowed. "You know me? No. Exactly."
She let out a frustrated breath, kicking a small pebble on the road. "Big man, big position… suddenly personal questions?"
Then she paused.
"…then why am I so annoyed?"
Silence.
Her expression softened slightly. "It wasn't even wrong of him to ask…"
But the question stayed.
Why California?
It didn't just sound like a question. It felt like something that reached too close to a place she kept locked. A place filled with blurred memories—dreams that felt like nightmares, flashes she never lived but somehow remembered.
She shook her head lightly. "No. Not now."
The next few days passed slower than they should have.
Saturday.
The day.
Aurelia woke up early, long before her alarm. Sleep had barely touched her anyway. Her phone stayed beside her—even in the kitchen, even while pouring water.
"When will they call?" she whispered, glancing at the screen for the hundredth time.
Her thoughts began their usual chaos.
"What if my phone is not working?"
"What if they already called and I missed it?"
"What if they didn't call because… I wasn't good enough?"
"Stop." She pressed her fingers to her temple. "Aurelia, seriously? Since when did you start thinking like this?"
She sighed and lay back on her bed. "It's only 1 p.m. You have time."
To avoid spiraling further, she decided to take a short nap.
Twenty minutes.
That turned into three hours.
She woke up at 4:00 p.m.
Her eyes widened as she grabbed her phone instantly. No calls.
"Great. Now even my sleep is against me."
She flopped back dramatically. "At this point, I should just assume rejection and move on—"
Her phone rang.
She froze.
Then picked it up immediately.
"Hello?"
"Hello, am I speaking with Miss Vale?"
Her heartbeat spiked. "Yes, this is Aurelia Vale. May I know who's speaking?"
"I am Mr. Flores, from the Montclair Group."
She sat up straight instantly, as if he could see her posture through the call.
"Miss Vale, I'm calling to inform you about your Round 2 results."
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
"I'm happy to announce… you have been selected."
Silence.
For a moment, her brain refused to process it.
"Hello, Miss Vale? Are you still there?"
"Yes—yes! I'm here," she said quickly, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm just… I don't know what to say."
Mr. Flores chuckled lightly. "That's understandable. Congratulations. You've been selected directly without Round 3 and assigned to the Criminal Litigation Team."
Her eyes widened again.
Direct selection?
"Thank you… thank you so much, sir."
"You will receive your offer letter shortly. Reporting is Monday at 9 a.m."
"Yes, I'll be there."
"Looking forward to working with you."
The call ended.
But the moment didn't.
"Aaaaaah!" she screamed, jumping off the bed. "I got selected! I actually got selected!"
She spun around, laughing, clapping, almost slipping once but catching herself.
"Okay—calm down—no, don't calm down, this is huge!"
She immediately texted her mother and her friends, typing too fast, correcting typos mid-way.
Monday.
Her day.
She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her outfit.
A soft white suit, paired with a structured white bag and heels—not too loud, just elegant. A thin golden bracelet rested on her wrist, catching light every time she moved.
"Simple. Clean. Confident," she murmured. "Perfect."
The Montclair Group looked even more imposing in the morning light.
She walked in with a composed expression, though her excitement was barely contained.
At the reception—
"Hello," she greeted politely, confirming her details.
Before she could finish, a familiar voice approached.
"Miss Aurelia Vale?"
She turned.
Mr. Flores.
"Yes, that's me."
He checked his watch briefly and smiled. "Sharp 9:00. Good."
"Punctuality matters," she replied lightly.
He led her to the conference room, where formalities were completed—documents signed, terms explained, expectations set.
Then came the line.
"You will be reporting directly to Mr. Vincent Montclair."
Her pen paused mid-signature.
Of course.
"Any questions?" Mr. Flores asked.
Her mind instantly screamed: Yes. Why him? How do I face him again?
But her lips formed a polite smile. "No, everything is clear."
She signed.
99 out of 100.
Deducted 1 for one very specific reason.
Vincent Montclair.
After the formalities, a senior employee approached her.
"Hi, I've been asked to show you around the office."
"Perfect," Aurelia replied, standing up.
The office tour began.
The Montclair Group wasn't just a workplace—it felt like a system running with precision.
Glass cabins lined the corridors, each occupied by people deeply focused—papers, screens, discussions. Some voices were calm, others intense. No one wasted time.
"This is the litigation wing," the senior explained.
Aurelia nodded, observing everything carefully.
A group of lawyers argued over a case file, one of them saying, "That clause changes everything," while another countered immediately.
"Wow," she whispered. "People here fight more outside court than inside."
The senior laughed. "You'll get used to it."
They passed the research department—rows of files, digital screens, organized chaos.
"This is where most sleepless nights happen," the senior added.
"Good to know," Aurelia muttered. "I'll bring coffee sponsorship."
They moved further.
Conference rooms. Meeting zones. Private cabins.
Everything had structure. Everything had purpose.
And then—
While turning a corner—
She collided with someone.
"Sorry!" she said instantly, stepping back.
The senior straightened immediately. "Good morning, sir."
Aurelia looked up.
Him.
Vincent Montclair.
She froze for half a second before correcting herself. "Good morning, sir."
He nodded slightly.
"Miss Vale," he acknowledged.
There was nothing unusual in his tone.
But something in the air shifted.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Aurelia felt it again.
That familiarity.
These eyes… I've seen them somewhere.
Vincent held the gaze just a fraction longer than necessary.
These eyes… they carry something. A story I could read endlessly.
Neither spoke.
Neither looked away immediately.
And yet—
Everything felt said.
The moment broke naturally as he stepped past them.
But something lingered.
Unspoken.
Unresolved.
And definitely not over.