Chapter 3: 3 – First encounter

[Olivia's POV]

It would be dishonest of me to claim that I haven't thought about alternative ways to earn money. One of the other girls who lives in my apartment building works as a stripper and has told me that she can make over a thousand dollars in a single night just from cash tips.

I've considered this option, even though it's not something I truly want to do. However, there isn't much that I wouldn't do in order to make my grandfather happy.

I was raised by the man since I was a young girl. I don't have any memories of my mother, as I only know about her through the stories that the man shared with me. My father's identity is unknown to me, as my grandfather claimed to not know who he was either.

I was fortunate to have the man in my life, as he took on the role of both a father and mother figure to me. Despite not knowing my biological parents, I am grateful for the love and care that the man provided for me.

Growing up, it was just me and my dad. I adored him and he was the only family I had. I used to love it when he would tuck me into bed at night and tell me stories about my grandma. He always had a sparkle in his eyes when he talked about her. I thought that I wanted to have a love like that someday, but then everything changed when my dad's health started to deteriorate.

As he got sicker, I focused on taking care of him and making sure he was comfortable. I didn't have time to think about my own happiness anymore. Despite the challenges we faced, I never stopped loving him. He was my world and I would do anything for him.

Recently, whenever my grandfather is in a good mood and starts reminiscing about my mother and grandmother, I make sure to jot down everything he says. I'm afraid that one day he may no longer remember these stories on his own, and I want to be able to share them with him again.

I feel it's important to preserve these memories for both of us. Plus, I know how much my grandfather loves telling these stories and seeing the joy they bring to others. I want to be able to continue that tradition, even if his memory fades.

As tears streamed down my face, I hastily wiped them away, trying to hide my emotional state. However, the woman sitting behind the desk noticed and gave me a sympathetic smile. I couldn't help but feel embarrassed and self-conscious. I knew that crying in an interview was not a good impression to make, and I was worried that it would hinder my chances of getting the job.

I quickly rise to my feet, feeling the need to regain control over myself.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where the bathroom is?" I ask the woman nearby.

"It's down the hall, the second door on the right," she replies, pointing in the direction.

I nod in understanding and make my way down the hall, almost colliding with a man who is exiting an office.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, quickly sidestepping him and rushing into the bathroom. I can sense his eyes following me the whole way.

Once inside, I take a deep breath and remind myself to calm down. "Come on, Olivia, get it together," I say to myself, trying to regain my composure.

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