"Chanel, don't forget that the flight is this afternoon, I hope you don't arrive late."

"Don't worry, Mom, there is nothing more important to me than that flight, you'll see, with the treatments you'll receive once we're in England, you'll overcome cancer and everything will return to how it was before."

"I hope so... but I want you to be aware that not everything may go as well as we hope, and if it doesn't..."

"Say no more, I have to go, but be clear about one thing: Everything, absolutely everything will turn out well." I give my mother a kiss on the cheek and leave in a hurry.

I must finalize the details in order to work in England, fortunately a friend of my mother's offered to help me get a job that, although not as an architect, but as an assistant, will help me have some money and not rely solely on our savings.

When I arrive at the cafe, I look in all directions until I see Mr. Sacarias Rendon's face, although I don't know him personally, I saw his photos on social media, so it wasn't a problem to recognize him. I walk quickly to meet him. Most of the people around me look at me disdainfully, even the waiters, maybe because their uniforms are hundreds of kilometers higher in quality than my worn-out jeans, and not precisely for fashion reasons. Since my father died, the creditors didn't rest until they practically left us on the streets, and it has been up to me to work from sunrise to sunset to pay for my studies and my mother's medication. And even though I had a fund for my university, I preferred not to touch it, and on the contrary, to save what little I had left to be able to travel with my mother. Luckily, I have been able to graduate with honors, and although many look at me with discrimination, my head is always held high, because I know who I am, not only because of having a degree, but because of the effort I have put into it.

When I arrive at the table, Mr. Sacarias stands up and extends his hand, which I accept as a greeting, and he takes the opportunity to kiss the back of my hand before opening a chair for me.

"Good morning, Mr. Rendon, it's a pleasure to meet you." I mention as we both sit down.

"Likewise, dear, it's a pleasure to meet you. I heard you were beautiful, I thought they were just exaggerating."

"Thank you, you have no idea how important it is for my mother and me that you help us." I say, changing the subject, as I don't like the way he looks at me, as if he wants to undress me with his eyes.

"It's a pleasure to be able to help such a beautiful woman. I imagine you're in a hurry, so I won't beat around the bush."

"I infinitely appreciate it, we must travel today."

"This is all you need." He comments as he hands me an envelope. "It's a personal recommendation. You just have to present it and the job will be yours." I smile widely and extend my hand to receive it. "Not so fast." My smile slowly disappears as I see that cunning fox-like glint in his eyes.

The waiter approaches to take our order. He only orders a coffee, and I don't dare ask for anything, with the luxuriousness of the place, maybe for a glass of water, I'll have to work for free for a whole week to be able to pay for it. The waiter leaves and I take the floor.

"I don't understand what you mean. Is there some sort of condition?" I inquire with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Like in any business, but don't worry..."

"What do you want?" I interrupt him.

"I'll be direct, I'm staying at a hotel a few blocks away, accompany me to my room for half an hour and the job will be yours."

"I have met very unpleasant people in this life, but no one surpasses a dirty and repulsive old man like you. Don't get me wrong, my need is not greater than my dignity."

"Dignity will not save your dying mother." That was the last straw. Taking advantage of the waiter approaching with a cup of coffee, I stand up and take it, sipping a small amount since it's hot. Then I smile and just as the wretched man returns a triumphant smile, I approach him and let the coffee spill onto his crotch.

"You're crazy!" He exclaims, calling attention from those around us.

"I would be crazy if I allow a perverted old man like you to lay a single one of your disgusting fingers on me!" Without giving him a chance to say anything else, I walk away with my head held high, without a job but with my dignity intact.

"Once I cross the door of the establishment, I search in my old worn-out backpack for my cell phone to call Raiza, my best friend who also told me about an acquaintance who could employ me, although the job is as a salesperson in a florist. At this moment, I can't be picky, what I need is to tell her that I accept it since I had initially rejected it and he would proceed to hire someone else."

"Damn it!" I exclaim, remembering that I left it charging. It is really essential to talk to her right now.

While closing my backpack, I bump into someone. When I raise my gaze, I find an imposing figure with hypnotizing green eyes.

"Be more careful while you walk." One of his bodyguards tells me as they continue on their way, pushing me aside like a nuisance. As I look towards the pavement, I find a high-end cell phone. I take it and deduce that it belongs to the man I just bumped into. I walk back towards the cafe but realize that it's not locked and decide to call Raiza. I don't think I'll be arrested for taking a minute, besides, I plan to return the cell phone once I finish the call. So, without wasting time, I dial Raiza's number.

When I call her, she tells me that she told her friend that I would take the job and that she wouldn't say otherwise until I had signed a contract. Thank heaven I have a cautious friend. The conversation became a bit lengthy as she asked me to recount what happened with that old man. Without realizing it, I spoke for twenty minutes. When I hung up, I tried to enter the cafe, but due to what happened earlier, they didn't allow me in. Even though I tried to explain, they simply refused to listen to my reasons. I waited for over forty minutes, but to be honest, I didn't know if that man was still inside the cafe because I disconnected from everything around me while talking to Raiza. With a heavy heart, I left that place. I couldn't wait any longer. That's how I became a thief, I guess.

...Richard's POV...

"If you're here, I suppose it's because you've already found her."

"Actually, sir, I haven't found her yet. I wish I had good news, but it's as if she disappeared off the face of the earth." Clarens speaks nervously.

"Disappeared? Is that the answer you're giving me? Because that's an answer that doesn't justify your salary."

"S-Sir... I..."

"You"? Allow me to speak for you since apparently you can't even do that. You're an incompetent person whose responsibilities I stripped away to assign you one task, finding that little thief, and even then you haven't done it.

"Sir, I have done everything possible to locate her, but it's just that..."

"But it seems I'll have to call the CIA or the FBI. They surely have nothing more important to do because you're so incompetent that even with the necessary resources, you can't find a needle in a haystack."

"Hey, interrupting again?" Larry, my best friend, asks as he enters without being announced. It's a bad habit he has adopted, and I no longer complain since he's the only person who cares little or nothing about what I say.

"Yes, but I suppose it doesn't matter." I respond curtly, to which he simply shrugs, reaffirming that I'm right.

"S-Sir..." Clarens, my assistant, speaks again.

"You may leave. I want results, and I want them now. So stop doing what's possible and start doing the impossible. Maybe then you'll deliver results to me."

"As you wish, sir." After these last words, he rushes out.

"Wow, what a temper! I assume from the way you treat poor Clarens that you still haven't found your thief."

I sigh in frustration.

"No, I haven't found her, and she's not"my thief"either."

"Oh, really?"

"No, she's just a thief."

"Why don't you just let it go and move on with your life?"

"I don't want to. Nobody takes what belongs to me and gets away with it."

"I really don't understand why you give so much importance to a simple phone that you replaced in less than twenty minutes."

"It's not about that. That girl mocked me, looked me in the eyes. I bet she was internally laughing at me, and that's something I won't tolerate."

"You're right, that and the fact that she has the audacity to invade your dreams and drive you crazy in bed. That's just too much." He smiles mockingly as he speaks. I'm an idiot; only I would think of sharing with him, amidst drinks, that I've dreamt about her on more than one occasion.

"Stop talking nonsense. Don't you have anything more interesting to do than to disrupt my work schedule? Unlike you, I actually have things to do."

"Too bad you can only do them in dreams because the thief slipped away."

"Get out of here."

"Oh, so touchy. I think it's better for me to go. It seems like you're having one of your bad days."

"Please, lock the door behind you. You see, there's always some reckless person who enters without being announced."

"You just hurt my feelings... whatever, I don't care." He laughs and leaves, closing the door behind him.

I will find you, little thief, and you'll regret ever crossing my path.

...POV: Chanel...

It has been three months since we arrived in England, and although it pains me deeply to admit it, my mother hasn't responded satisfactorily to the treatment. Her health is deteriorating more and more. I haven't been able to find a better-paying job, and on top of that, I have to endure the harassment from my boss's son. But the worst part is that our savings are running out. My mother and I live in a small one-bedroom apartment, sharing a not-so-big bed. She insists that I won't sleep on the couch, which I'm grateful for. I like sleeping in my mother's arms. I don't know when...

"Chanel, my daughter, eat something. You've lost a lot of weight in the past few days."

"I'm not hungry, Mommy."

"Please eat something, do it for me."

"Okay, it's impossible to say no to you." My mother looks at me and smiles. I do the same while struggling to eat some food. Seeing my mother, the only thing I have in life, wearing a headscarf to cover her hair loss and noticing how thin she is, her pronounced dark circles, and, worst of all, feeling her cry at night, trying not to let me know she's suffering from the pain caused by that damn bone cancer. It reminds me that, like her, I must appear strong to make her pitiful life more bearable.

"Chanel, I've been thinking, and I want to go back to the United States."

"To the United States?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes, that's what I desire the most. I want to spend the remaining time in my own home."

"Mama, please don't give up." Tears start streaming down my face uncontrollably.

"I'm not giving up, I'm just accepting reality." She reaches out her hand to wipe my tears. "You should do the same. It will make the moment of parting easier. Besides, we'll be surrounded by people who love us. Please, don't say no to your mother." My hand rests on hers, which is now caressing my face, holding onto it tightly.

"Alright, I will talk to the doctors and try to arrange our return as soon as possible." With these words, I manage to elicit a genuine smile from my mother, one I haven't seen in a long time. It brings a momentary sense of relief to my soul.

Ten days have passed since I promised my mother I would come back, and today I was finally able to keep that promise.

"Thank you for coming for us, Raiza," my mother says.

"Don't thank me," she replies, wrapping her arms around both my mother and me. "You're part of my family."

"You have no idea how happy I am to know that you'll always be there for my daughter," my mother says.

"Don't doubt it, I will always take care of her," Raiza assures.

"Hmm, don't talk as if I'm a baby," I interject.

We all laugh, breaking the embrace. With the help of my friend, we carry the luggage to her car. Once we embark on the journey, I dedicate myself to observing the landscape and my mother's smiling face, as the gentle breeze of New York welcomes us.

Today is the day of the interview with the owner of Ford Industries. I am nervous, especially because he will be personally conducting the interview. I don't understand why I can't just meet with the HR manager like in any other place. Oh well... I guess it's because the job is to be his personal assistant. Yes, once again I am applying for a position that has nothing to do with my career, but Raiza helped me get the interview and the salary is not something to be underestimated. With that money, I can provide a better quality of life for my mother and make her illness more bearable.

I try to dress the best I can, but my wardrobe is not cooperating.

"Good morning!" enthusiastically greets Raiza, who enters my room with a couple of bags in her hands. "Tell me you weren't planning on going like this," she says, making a disapproving face and pointing at my clothes. I simply shrug and smile somewhat embarrassed, because I have to admit that I don't look good at all. I'm wearing a classic pair of pants that used to be black, but now lean towards red, flat sandals, and the only salvaged item is my white shirt, the one that has been through countless battles.

She rolls her eyes and hands me the bags. "Quickly, put this on. I'll take you before going to work." My eyes well up with tears and when I'm about to speak, she interrupts me. "Don't even think about it. I don't want your eyelids to get swollen, and besides, you'll make me cry too, and then my makeup will be ruined, and that would be catastrophic."

I smile widely.

"Thank you, you're the best!"

"That's better," she says.

Quickly, I undress in front of her. We have complete and utter trust in each other to do so. I take the skirt, then the top, and finally the blazer, all in white and fitted to my figure. Once she finishes dressing me, I can't help but look at my feet.

"Don't worry, a fairy godmother doesn't do her job halfway," Raiza says, handing another bag in my direction. When I look inside, it contains a pair of pointed heels and a beige purse.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I hug her and leave a huge kiss on her cheek. I put on the shoes and she proceeds to apply very subtle makeup on me.

"Perfect, you look beautiful," she concludes her work with these last words. "Now let's go or you'll be late."

"Yes, you're right." I grab the purse. It's not necessary to bring a resume because I have already sent it to the email beforehand. I quickly say goodbye to my mother and then we leave.

It takes us twenty-five minutes to get to Ford Industries.

"Go for that job, you're the best!" exclaims my friend.

"Thank you," I smile at her and get out of the car. As I do, my gaze rises, taking in the grandeur of the huge building. I cross my fingers, holding onto the good luck that I haven't had in a long time, and approach the entrance. Without any trouble, the security guard lets me in and directs me to the reception where a beautiful blonde points me to the floor and tells me to go to the CEO's secretary and show my identification when I get there. I do as instructed, and the woman kindly asks me to wait with the other three applicants who are already waiting. I have to admit that more than attending an interview for an assistant position, it seems like we're all going to a modeling agency, because aside from being beautiful women, their way of dressing is somewhat revealing. I'm not criticizing, everyone is free to dress however they want, but everything has its time and place. After me, a couple more girls arrive and we are attended to in the order of arrival.

"Miss Chanel Walker, please come with me," says the secretary, who is no less beautiful than the rest of the women I've seen since I entered this place. God, I think I'm the plainest one here. No one told me I was coming to a beauty pageant, not a job interview. I follow her and she asks me to wait for a couple of seconds before entering Richard Ford's office. She doesn't take long to come out and call my name. Once I enter, she closes the door.

I close my eyes for a couple of seconds. I know I won't make a good impression if this is the first thing I do, but I really need to calm my nerves. It's not just a job at stake here, but a better quality of life for my mother. I calm down as I smell the exquisite fragrance of a masculine perfume. I inhale it and slowly open my eyes. It may seem strange, but as I do, I find myself staring into piercing green eyes just ten centimeters away from mine. I stare at them, feeling like I've seen them before, but I can't remember where. I open my lips to say something, but my lower lip trembles slightly. The situation feels strange.

"Good morning," I manage to say after snapping out of my thoughts.

"Good morning?" Okay, this questioning greeting throws me off a bit and the nerves attack, but I manage to hide them, or at least I think so.

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Ford." I extend my hand and take a step back to regain my personal space. This man's presence is somewhat intimidating. He raises an eyebrow as he looks at my hand, and after what feels like hours but is only a few seconds, he finally takes it, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Have we met before, Miss Walker?"

"Definitely not. I would remember," I quickly reply. I don't know why, but his jaw tenses when he hears my answer. He circles around the desk and sits in front of the laptop, gesturing for me to do the same in the chair opposite him.

"Where have you been for the past few months?"

"Um... I've been in England."

"What does a woman of limited means do to afford a trip to England?" I don't understand why these kinds of questions, but I suppose I must answer.

"Work, like normal people do."

"Do you consider yourself part of that 'normal' people?"

"I am."

"What were you doing in England?"

"I worked as a saleswoman in a flower shop. I know it's not the experience needed for this position, but..."

"I didn't ask what you were doing for work. I asked what led you to England."

"They were personal reasons... and if you don't mind, I would prefer to omit the topic." I'm here for a job, not for pity. If I start talking about my mother's condition, I'll probably end up crying.

"The interview is over. If you qualify, my secretary will get in touch. Now, please leave..."

Damn it! He's not going to hire me.

...Author's Note...

My beloved readers, thank you for embarking on this new journey with me, I love you and I missed the connection with all of you.

I promise you will enjoy this story, but in order for us to connect, I need you to visit the link I'm providing, it's the song that inspires this story, LADRONA (Morat*)

"Https://youtu.be/YncpkTgPulU"