NOT SO FAST MR BILLIONAIRE

Ira trudged down the bustling city sidewalk, her mind a tangled mess of frustration and anxiety. Days had blended into an unending cycle of job applications, rejection emails, and mounting debt. Each step felt heavier, as though the weight of her problems was physically pulling her down.

She clutched her worn leather bag closer, her fingers curling tightly around the strap. Today had been particularly rough. Another rejection email had arrived that morning, curtly informing her that the position had been filled by someone more "qualified." She scoffed at the memory. Qualified. What did that even mean anymore? She had the degrees, the experience, the drive. What she didn't have was luck.

Her thoughts were so consumed by her troubles that she didn’t see the man in the crisp suit until she collided with him. Papers flew from his briefcase, scattering like autumn leaves across the pavement.

"Can't you watch where you're going?" he snapped, his voice sharp and accusatory.

Ira, already on edge, felt a spark of anger. She wasn’t usually one to confront strangers, but today was different. Today, she had reached her limit. "If you equally watched where you were going, this wouldn't have happened. It's a two-way affair, and it's equally your fault."

The man’s expression darkened, clearly not satisfied with her response. He looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing with disdain. Ira, sensing an unnecessary escalation and not wanting to add more stress to her already burdened mind, sighed deeply. "Look, I'm sorry. I don’t have time for this."

She hurriedly gathered herself and walked away, leaving the man grumbling behind her. The encounter lingered in her thoughts, a small, unpleasant note in the symphony of her worries. As she continued down the street, she couldn’t help but replay the interaction in her mind. Why did people always assume they were the center of the universe? She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the lingering irritation.

---

When she finally reached her small apartment, the familiar creak of the door greeted her. The place was both her sanctuary and her prison. The worn-out couch and the cluttered kitchen table were stark reminders of her financial struggles. She dropped her bag on the couch and headed straight for the table, her heart sinking at the sight of the bills and final notices scattered across it.

She sighed deeply, sitting down and sorting through the mail. Most of it was the same: overdue bills, credit card statements, and rejection letters from jobs she had applied to. The weight of her financial situation pressed heavily on her shoulders, and she struggled to keep her head above water.

As she glanced through yet another rejection letter, her phone buzzed. It was a reminder of her next student loan payment. Ira buried her face in her hands, feeling the sting of tears. She needed to find a job, any job, to help alleviate her debt. With renewed determination, she opened her laptop and began scrolling through job listings, hoping for a miracle.

The hours slipped away as Ira scoured job sites, her hope dwindling with each passing minute. Just as she was about to give up, a peculiar ad caught her eye. It was for a personal assistant position, but the requirements were vague. The ad promised a substantial salary, enough to cover her immediate debts and then some. Desperation gnawed at her, and she decided to take a chance.

---

The next morning, Ira woke up with a sense of cautious optimism. She had sent off her application for the personal assistant job, and now all she could do was wait. She decided to take a walk to clear her head, hoping the fresh air would lift her spirits.