C4 The Female Billionaire
My foster home told me I was found in empty apartment when I was around two weeks old. That apartment was not registered under anyone's name. It was open for sale for like two to three months. The next-door neighbor found me there and contacted the foster home right away and they took me in.
They told me no one came for me.
Orphanage tried like they do for every kid who have fate like me, but nothing worked. The identity of my parents is a forever mystery. And I'm not curious anymore. I have passed that stage.
It's not easy to live this way. Things about my family and why they left me kept bugging me during my growing years. But, other orphans around me who had similar stories somehow motivated me to move on and live and dream like normal people.
"Do you know the cost of the wedding ring of Samara Elizabeth?" Carol questions, lying on her own side of bed while scrolling her social profile.
"I'm not interested." Who cares about the ring and it's worth when bride and groom aren't in love and their whole wedding is just a pretense.
"Sanaya, you're so boring. Everyone is talking about this wedding and look at you."
Yeah because I just found out that it's all fake.
I feel the urge to say that out loud, but I can't. I can't discuss my workplace's personal matters to anyone.
"Why would I be interested in someone else's wedding?"
"Please." She sits up, "You're working in their house. You are seeing this big wedding preps live. Tell me anything. I wish you would get the invitation then I'll go with you."
"What nonsense, Carol." I pass her a disbelieving look.
"We have finals soon. Can I get your notes on English and History?" I ask to change the topic.
"Sure." She shrugs then lies straight again.
I haven't seen Ashar Hobsons' pictures, but have heard about his success stories. In a very young age, he is managing Hobsons Enterprise gracefully. Now since this big wedding has been announced, this family is now ruling the country's media.
Before applying for job here, I did my research about them and at that time, I read Ashar and Samara's cheesy love story. It said they know each other since their childhood. They announced their engagement publicly two years ago and now planning to get married. On internet it said that despite having several female admirers, he has a reputation of being a loyal fiance. He only loved one woman all his life which is Samara. But those online gossips are utterly false. That business tycoon said that day from his own mouth that he doesn't love his fiancee.
Thank God, I'm not fond of tabloids. There is no truth in the stories they publish.
I decide to do some school homework and forget about the stupid wedding.
Today I'm thinking to bake some sugar free biscuits. I learned the recipe from the food blog I follow. I begin preparing the batter, finding all the required ingredients in the cabinets.
The sudden click-clack sound of heels disturbs my focus and then I hear a woman's voice.
"Who are you?"
I turn around and see Samara Elizabeth is standing at the Kitchen's entrance door. I'm surprised, never expected coming face to face with a diva.
"I'm a cook here." I answer. Her strong flowery perfume pollutes the air around me.
She takes few steps forward in my direction, arching a brow at me. She looks at me closely, examines my appearance.
Her smooth, clear facial skin is an indication that she uses numerous expensive skincare products and possibly spends hours in salons. She has dark brown, bouncy hairs, milky skin tone, full lips and grey eyes which flickers dominance and glimpse of sense of superiority.
The beauty mark just beneath the corner of her lips is like a cherry on top to her overall flawless beauty. She has a face and body that would attract men's ogles. I wonder why Ashar Hobsons is not into her.
"Right. Means, a housemaid." She says, nodding.
I form a frown on my face in disbelief, "I said cook, a house cook." I repeat with emphasis.
She shrugs, "Same thing for me."
My frown deepens. Why I'm feeling her remark was deliberate?
She ignores my reaction and walks past me. Anger rises in my veins. I'm not a housemaid, but a cook. These two terms are completely different from each other and I guess she is dumb to understand the difference between these two jobs. In just few minutes she managed to make me feel me so low in front of her.
I turn around and observe she grabs the fruit basket, placed on the counter. She lookes at me once again, shaking her head, "What a mess you've created in the kitchen. Clean it properly before you leave."
"Excuse me?" My reaction is spontaneous. I realize it afterwards. I can't mess with her if I want this job.
"Cleaning is not my job." I try to say in a calm tone.
She sighs aloud, "I don't know why Andrew always chooses ill-mannered staff for the domestic work. I'll talk to him. Please get aside."
I clench my jaws along with my fists. She is continuously insulting me for no reason.
The kitchen is looking fine only few jars and bottles are scattered on the counter because I'm using them for food preparation.
"You don't have to be rude, you know." I mutter.
"You call it rudeness." She laughs, "Don't push me to show you my real rudeness." She leaves the kitchen afterwards.
I think she has some mental issues. She has ruined my mood for cooking. I hate it when people look down on low-rank workers. There is nothing wrong with my job. Besides, I'm not a Maid, you stupid, brainless beauty.
"Are you Sanaya, right? The new cook?" Some new voice speaks.
I move my gaze. I get frightened a little when I see some old woman and my guess say she is Katherine Hobsons
"Yes. Hello." I compose myself.
"I'm Katherine, wife of the owner of this mansion." She introduces herself, "Nice to meet you."
I'm feeling like I'm caught off-guard by her unexpected visit at my work area. It's the first time I'm seeing her in person. The billionaire's wife, who is a billionaire herself, standing in front of me.
Her eyes are bluish almost like......blueberries? I confusingly knit my brows. I thought that color is rare. They look similar to the man I met at the night club.
"I've heard you're young, how old are you?" Her voice brings me back to reality and I find myself staring into her eyes and thinking.
I rub my temple in uneasiness, trying to act normal, "I'm eighteen."
Her thick curls are all gracefully settled on her one side of her face. Since she is fairer than me, her brown freckles are prominent on her face. There are faded lines of wrinkles on her forehead, depicting her age.
Katherine Hobsons is a fashionista who has her own clothing line. I have read some if her articles in fashion mags. Her brand targets the elite class so naturally I can't go to her boutiques, but it's good to take her style recommendations.
"Darling, you're so young." She says, "Money problems?"
I nod hesitantly, "Yes."
She continues, "Well, Sanaya, keep it up. I hope Andrew told you that we only prefer organic spices. My husband and I are very cautious about our diet."
"Yes. He told me about that. Don't worry, Ma'am. I only use those ingredients that are given to me by the staff here."
"I was thinking to meet you personally, but I was quite busy. You must've known my younger son is getting married." She hisses lightly, "It's hectic."
I plaster a smile on my face, "I understand. I wish your son a happy married life."
She touches my shoulder, "I always appreciate hard workers. Nice meeting you, Sanaya. I hope you're coming to my son's wedding. It's next week. I'm looking forward to it."
I lift my brows in astonishment. Why would I be attending her son's wedding?
"Thank you, Mrs. Hobsons. I don't think I should be coming to the wedding."
She furrows her light brows, "First of all, you can call me Katherine. Secondly, why not? All of my domestic staff is invited. I would be happy if you come. It's in the Catholic Church."
Katherine's politeness is impressive. My encounter with Samara lowered my expectations that maybe all of the family look at me in the same way.
"You should definitely come to help me on the wedding day because I don't want to be short-staffed. You should be a part of the wedding preparations." She persists.
Okay. I think I can do that much. Maybe, it's her way of saying that she would add bonus in my monthly pay for my extra services. "I'll try to come and help you."
She put her hand down from my shoulder and smiles in response, "That's what I wanted to hear. You're pretty, young lady but you're hiding yourself in those casual clothes. Please don't mind me. I just don't like it when beautiful women like you don't care about their skin and style. You're young so enjoy your time by wearing pretty dresses."
A wave of surprise sweeps through me. She just called me pretty. I hope I didn't mishear her.
The fashion guru called me pretty. Is this God's way for compensating what I faced with Samara?
"Anyways, I should go now. You carry on with your work. I'm looking forward to see you at the wedding." She says and then walks out of the kitchen afterwards.
Katherine Hobsons made my day.