Chapter 1

Mariah

I grip the edge of the conference table, my knuckles pressing against the smooth surface as our CEO, Mr. Davidson, delivers the news. His words punch through the silence like bullets.

"It brings me a lot of sadness to say this, but… After twelve years, TechVision will be closing its doors in two weeks."

The room fills with sharp inhales and muttered curses. Mimi drops her pen, the plastic clattering against the table. A few seats down, someone whispers "shit" under their breath, and I can't help but agree.

I've spent two years here, cleaning offices at night while building connections during the day, hoping to transition into their events team. All those carefully planned steps toward my dream career - gone. Every extra hour I put in organizing office parties, every conversation with the events coordinator about shadowing opportunities, every night I stayed late to make sure the conference rooms were spotless - it all feels like wasted effort now.

"The bankruptcy filing will proceed this week." Mr. Davidson's voice cracks. He tugs at his collar, his usual confident demeanor crumbling. "We've prepared severance packages-"

The words fade into white noise. My stomach twists into knots as I scan the faces around me. Henry, the IT guy who always saved me when the cleaning log system crashed, stares at his hands. Elena, who promised to recommend me for the next events coordinator position, wipes at her eyes. Even stone-faced Janelle looks shaken as she rubs at the wrinkles on her cheeks.

It’s winter in the middle of Chicago. And now, we’re going to lose our jobs. Maybe even the heating to our homes, too.

"This wasn't an easy decision." Mr. Davidson continues, but I barely hear him.

Two rows ahead, Tim buries his face in his hands. We'd just discussed plans for the holiday party last week - my first chance to prove myself as more than just the night cleaning staff. Now those plans, like everything else, dissolve into nothing.

My chest tightens as reality sinks in. No more steady paycheck. No more networking opportunities. No more chance to climb the corporate ladder here. The weight of my student loans crashes down, threatening to suffocate me.

I glance at my coworkers again - my work family. Some sob quietly, others sit frozen in shock. We're all in free fall now, searching for solid ground that no longer exists.

I pull out my phone, scrolling through the calendar filled with meticulously planned events that will never happen. The spring garden party in two months I'd convinced Elena to let me coordinate. The team-building retreat I was supposed to assist with. The eventual summer picnic where I planned to showcase my skills. Each entry mocks me, a digital graveyard of dead dreams.

After the meeting, everyone retreats to their desks and offices with deflated expressions. Back at my desk, I sink into my chair and open my banking app. The numbers stare back at me, cold and unforgiving. Eight hundred and twelve dollars. That's all that stands between me and complete disaster. The severance package will help, but with rent, utilities, and my student loan payments...

I grab a pen and scrap paper, jotting down numbers. The math doesn't lie - even with severance, I have maybe two months before I'm completely broke. Less if anything unexpected comes up.

My fingers hover over my phone as I debate calling Dad. No. I can't. Not after everything. His voice echoes in my memory: "Cleaning offices at night? That fancy degree of yours was a waste of money." The satisfaction of proving him wrong slips through my fingers like sand.

The events coordinator position at Maxwell Corp flashes across my mind - the one I turned down last month because I was so sure TechVision would promote me soon. My stomach churns. I check their website, but the position's been filled.

I open LinkedIn, Indeed, ZipRecruiter. The job listings blur together - entry-level positions, unpaid internships, roles requiring ten years of experience for minimum wage. None of them are what I want, what I've worked toward.

The cleaning cart sits in the corner of my cubicle, a reminder of where I started. Where I might have to stay, if I can't find something soon. My throat tightens as I think about starting over somewhere new, rebuilding those connections from scratch, trying to convince another company to see me as more than just the night cleaning staff.

Just when I think my day can't get even worse, my phone buzzes against the desk, Mr. Chen's name lighting up the screen. My heart drops into my stomach. I've been dodging his calls all week, but I can't avoid him forever.

"Hi, Mr. Chen-"

"Miss Thomas." His tone carries none of its usual warmth. "This is my third call about the rent."

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers against my temple. "I know, I'm so sorry. I've been meaning to-"

"You're eight days late. Again. That's the third time this year."

The fluorescent lights suddenly feel too bright, too harsh. My stomach churns as I glance at the cleaning cart again, realizing that the impending loss of my job is fucking me over badly. "I get paid on Friday. I promise I'll have it then, plus the late fee."

"Miss Thomas, you're one of my better tenants when you actually pay. But I'm running a business, not a charity." He sighs, and I can picture him shaking his head. "Don't make me start the eviction process."

"Please." The word comes out more desperate than I intend, my voice cracking slightly. "I just got some unexpected news at work. I just need until Friday."

A heavy sigh crackles through the phone, followed by the sound of shuffling papers. "Fine. Friday. But Miss Thomas? One more late payment and we'll need to discuss whether this arrangement is working out. And I mean really discuss it."

The line goes dead before I can thank him. I drop my phone like it's burned me, my hands shaking as I pull up my budget spreadsheet again. The numbers mock me from the screen, a series of depressing figures that refuse to add up differently no matter how many times I check them. The rent payment will drain most of my account, leaving barely enough for groceries. And now with the job ending... God, I can already taste the ramen noodles I'll be living on for the next month.

The numbers swim before my eyes. I minimize the spreadsheet, unable to look at it anymore, but the reality follows me like a shadow. No job. Late rent. Dwindling savings. The walls of my cubicle seem to close in, and I struggle to draw a full breath.

My gaze lands on the family photo tucked into the corner of my monitor - Mom's bright smile, Dad's proud stance from my graduation day. Before everything fell apart. Before I chose my own path instead of joining his business. The frame holds a moment frozen in time, when possibilities stretched endless before me, when I thought determination alone could build my dreams.

Now those dreams feel like luxury items I can no longer afford.

Tears blur my vision as the reality of my situation crashes over me. I might actually lose my apartment. The thought sends a fresh wave of panic through my chest, and I press my hands against my face, trying to muffle the sob that escapes.

The cheap tissues from the break room scratch against my skin as I dab at my eyes, smearing mascara across my cheeks. My shoulders shake with each breath as I try to hold it together, but it's like trying to catch water with my fingers - everything just keeps slipping away.

"Oh honey." Elena's voice startles me. She stands at my cubicle entrance, concern etched across her features. "I thought I heard- here." She pulls a pack of proper tissues from her purse and sets them on my desk before perching on the edge.

"Thanks." I grab one, wiping at my face. "I just... I can't lose my apartment. And with the job market right now-"

"Listen." Elena leans forward, her voice low and steady. "You're amazing at what you do. The offices have never been this well-maintained. You've got real skills, Mariah. Professional-grade cleaning experience is worth something."

I shake my head. "It was supposed to be temporary, just until-"

"Until you got into events, I know. But think about it - every corporate building needs cleaning staff. And you've got references now, experience with industrial equipment, knowledge of safety protocols. That's marketable."

My hands still against the tissue. She's right. I might not be able to jump straight into events planning, but I don't have to start completely from scratch either. The past year hasn't been a total waste - I've learned more than I realized.

"There's that new office complex opening downtown," Elena continues, ticking off possibilities on her fingers. "And I heard Riverside Tech is expanding their janitorial team. Plus, they offer night shifts with premium pay. It's not what you ultimately want, but it could keep you afloat while you figure out your next move."

The knot in my chest loosens slightly. It's not ideal, but it's something. A lifeline when I'm drowning. Maybe I can even pick up weekend gigs helping at actual events - build my portfolio while paying the bills. The thought of putting my dreams on hold stings, but it's better than watching them crash and burn completely.