SHE USED A LUXURY CAR WINDOW AS A MIRROR TO FIX HER BRA... THEN THE BILLIONAIRE ROLLED IT DOWN
Camila Reyes was sprinting down the cobblestone street like rent itself had grown legs and decided to chase her.
Technically, that was not far from the truth.
She clutched her purse against her chest, feeling the crisp edge of her resume pressing through the thin fabric like a reminder of everything riding on the next fifteen minutes. One interview. One chance. One tiny crack in a city that had been slamming doors in her face for months. If she didn’t land this job, she was officially out of backup plans and dangerously close to moving back in with her parents, which, in her opinion, ranked somewhere between emotional collapse and public execution.
The morning sun was already brutal, pouring heat over the old streets and turning her nervous sweat into a full-body crisis. She dodged tourists, stepped over a puddle she didn’t want to identify, and checked the time again.
Late.
Of course she was late.
“Please don’t let me walk in looking like I lost a fight with a hurricane,” she muttered under her breath, trying to smooth her hair while still half running.
Two blocks.
She was only two blocks away from the glass tower where her interview could change everything.
Then she caught a glimpse of herself in a storefront window and almost stopped breathing.
Her hair was wild. Her blouse had shifted. And worst of all, the underwire on the left side of her bra had been stabbing her in the ribs for the last ten minutes like it had a personal grudge.
She looked around, desperate for anything reflective enough to rescue her.
That was when she saw it.
Parked perfectly at the curb was a sleek black luxury SUV so polished it looked less like a vehicle and more like money in physical form. The tinted passenger window gleamed like a flawless mirror, cleaner than the one in her apartment bathroom, which had been cracked since 2019 and made everyone look emotionally unstable.
Camila exhaled like the universe had finally thrown her a bone.
“Thank you,” she whispered, already walking toward it.
She glanced left. Right. No one seemed to be paying attention.
Perfect.
She leaned toward the dark glass and got to work.
First, the hair. She ran her fingers through the worst of the chaos, pushing loose strands back into place and trying to convince herself she still looked employable.
Then came the real emergency.
That bra.
Without thinking too hard about the dignity level of what she was about to do, she slipped her hand inside her blouse and adjusted the underwire with the focus of a bomb technician and the desperation of a woman one wrong movement away from being punctured internally. She twisted slightly, lifted one shoulder, tugged a strap, shifted the fabric, and finally let out a breath of relief.
“Okay. Better,” she murmured.
Not perfect. Better.
Then she dug into her purse, pulled out a cheap lipstick, and applied it carefully using the window as her mirror. She leaned in, puckered once, checked the result, and smiled.
That was when she saw it.
A bright green piece of lettuce.
Stuck right between her front teeth.
Camila froze.
“No. No, no, no. Seriously?”
Apparently the sad sandwich she’d inhaled on the subway had left behind one final act of sabotage.
Mortified, she leaned closer to the glass, opened her mouth, and stuck in her finger to fish it out. Her face twisted into a series of deeply unfortunate expressions as she worked the tiny green traitor loose, jaw shifting side to side, eyes narrowed with surgical concentration.
That was why she didn’t hear the soft mechanical hum.
The tinted glass began to slide down.
Slowly.
Camila stopped moving, but only physically. Spiritually, she had already left her body.
Her finger was still in her mouth.
Her eyes widened in horror as the perfect mirror disappeared inch by inch, revealing leather seats, expensive cologne, and a man behind the wheel.
ABSOLUTELY NOT THE MAN BEHIND THE TINTED WINDOW… UNTIL HE BECAME THE BOSS WHO COULD RUIN OR SAVE YOUR LIFE
