Page 97 of Fake for 7 days

"Hello Isabella!" Hayley called from the kitchen. "It's so nice to have you back. How was it?"

At this question, my mood instantly plummeted to zero and my mouth twitched suspiciously. "Oh..." I said dejectedly, hanging up my spring coat on the coat rack. "As usual." I tried not to let my frustration show. But I couldn't fool Hayley.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Hayley's comforting voice made me feel better. She came out of the kitchen and looked at me warmly. "You'll manage, Isabella."

"Yeah," I agreed without much conviction and reached for the stack of mail that was waiting on the small sideboard next to the coat rack. Three letters for me. Thin letters from various New York hotels. I knew what that meant. A thin letter was a polite, brief, meaningless rejection.

For weeks, I had been writing one job application after another. I desperately needed a new job. By now, there wasn't a single renowned hotel in New York that hadn't heard from me. I applied for open positions, I sent unsolicited applications, I called agencies.

The result was always the same.

Nothing.

I only received rejections.

"The interview just now was also... nothing." I shrugged. "They wanted to know why I was fired from Emmett's, why I still don't have a new job, and then..." I swallowed. "Then they asked me why I even need a job. They had heard that I was engaged to a well-known New York businessman." I shrugged. "No idea how they even know that."

"Oh Isabella. I can't tell you how sorry I am." Hayley came over and hugged me tightly. She patted my back and I rested my head on her shoulder. "You really deserve better. You're such a wonderful woman and can do so much. The way you're being treated is truly a shame."

"Maybe I'll have to work night shifts in one of the many cheap hotels just to get my foot in the door," I mumbled into Hayley's shoulder.

"Nonsense!" Hayley pushed me away and looked at me sternly. "You said yourself that won't get you anywhere. And you need to move forward. You WANT to move forward."

"I need money." That was the plain truth. "I haven't earned anything for far too long. Emmett didn't pay me my last salary. And Carter obviously didn't pay me the 50,000 either."

Hayley let go of me. "I'll make us some coffee. This isn't something we can discuss in two seconds."

I followed Hayley into the cozy kitchen and sat down on one of the wicker chairs. Colorful cushions with a cheerful floral pattern, matching the tablecloth and the pictures on the walls, gave the kitchen a spring-like atmosphere. Hayley loved plants and had quite a few of them. In this kitchen, I always felt a bit like I was on vacation.

"I haven't even paid you the rent yet." Better to get straight to the point and not beat around the bush.

"That doesn't matter." Hayley filled the coffee machine with ground coffee and water and turned it on. "You can still do that once you've found a job. I'm happy you're living here." As the coffee machine began to hum softly, Hayley turned to me and asked, "Why don't you call him and demand the 50,000?"

"NO!" The answer shot out of me so vehemently that I was briefly surprised at myself. "I don't want to call him," I added a bit more conciliatory. "I never want to have anything to do with him again. And I certainly don't want to beg him for money. No way. Under no circumstances."

"You're not begging if you're asking for what's rightfully yours," Hayley corrected me.

"The money isn't mine. I didn't fulfill my part of the contract. The whole thing fell through and he... he won't get the inheritance." It was still so difficult for me to say Carter's name that I preferred not to. Hayley and I knew who we were talking about anyway.

"Why are you still worrying about him? He dropped you like a hot potato!" Hayley now looked indignant. The coffee machine behind her hummed louder. "If he really meant as little to you as you claim, you'd only be concerned about yourself. But you're thinking more about him than about you. You could really use that 50,000. The money is rightfully yours, Isabella."

"I don't want it." My tone made it clear that I not only didn't want the money, but also didn't want to talk about it anymore. The 50,000 was just a reminder of a mistake I had made. Of dreams I had foolishly harbored that hadn't come true. Even if Carter had transferred it to me, I wouldn't have touched it. I would have taken every single bill, put it in an envelope, and sent it back to Carter.

You couldn't heal a broken heart with money.

"Suit yourself," Hayley said now. She turned back to the coffee machine. The warm aroma of coffee now spread through the kitchen. I closed my eyes in pleasure. And immediately opened them again in horror.

"Hayley, I..."

That was as far as I got. I stood up. My chair banged loudly against the wall and as I hurriedly ran out of the kitchen, I held my hand over my mouth. I had suddenly become nauseous. My stomach was revolting out of the blue, as if I had just eaten something bad. But the opposite was true: I had hardly eaten anything. This upset stomach had been plaguing me for a good week now. Or longer?

I yanked open the bathroom door and stumbled to the toilet as fast as I could.

And retched.

And retched.

"Isabella." Hayley gently knocked on the doorframe. "Is everything okay? Can I help you?"

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