🤍 Jessica's POV 🤍
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My alarm blares aggressively at 5:00am on the dot. But I'm already awake. Not because I'm a morning person, cause honestly, I'm not. But because the smell of burnt sugar and regret wafts up through the floorboards like a ghost haunting my dreams.
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The Lavender Loaf is the bakery I and Ken run, and it opens for the day pretty early so we can obviously make our signature delicious pastries and coffee for our earlybirds.
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I can feel Ken downstairs already, probably preparing the buttercream. But why he's up earlier than me and why i'm smelling what I shouldn't be smelling all the way up here is what I still don't understand.
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God help me.
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I drag myself out of bed, throw on a clean hoodie and literally run downstairs. The bakery is still dark except for the glow of the oven light, where Ken is hunched over a tray of cupcakes like a mad scientist.
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"What the heck is going on here?" I ask, flicking the lights on.
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He jumps, nearly dropping the piping bag "Oh, It's you. Dobro Outro" good morning
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I sight a tray of charred cupcakes that could double as hockey pucks. I mentally will myself to stay calm and wait for an explanation.
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Don't jump into conclusions, Jess.
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"Dobro Outro" I greet back.
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He sees me looking between him and the cupcakes, then grimaces.
"Uh, don't get mad. I kinda... messed up a batch"
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"What the hell, Ken. Do you how much a gram of flour costs?"
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"I'm sorry. I dozed off a bit, and woke up to the shit burnt" He adjusted his nose mask.
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"You what!? Oh my God I'm gonna kill you, Ken. Why are you up this early playing with fire if you know you wouldn't be able to stay awake? You don't even have to wake up this early"
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He shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze.
"I know. It's just that I've been thinking about how hard you work, and wanna do more to help out here"
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What a bad liar. I raised Ken. I always know when the twat is lying.
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"Bullshit. Tell me the real reason"
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He sighs, dropping the piping bag "Okay, fine. You caught me. I've got an interview with a delivery company at eight. Was trying to finish up early here so I could make it on time"
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My anger evaporates, replaced with something softer "Oh Ken. You should have told me"
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"I didn't want to get your hopes up," he mumbles, staring at the floor. "We haven't exactly been crushing it in the interview department lately. So wanted to keep it a secret till the job's secured"
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My chest tightens. "So fucking what? You still should've told me. I'd have given you some days off to prepare. I could've even baked you a 'please hire me' cake to give the interviewer"
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He laughs "I'd probably eat it up before I get there"
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"You got what to wear? Should I help y-"
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He cuts me off with a wave, grinning "Relax, ma'am, I've got everything under control"
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My voice cracks a little. "I'm so proud of you, you idiot. It's about time you got your act together."
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He's about to go back to piping the cupcakes, but I stop him "Just leave that. I'll fix them. Go get ready for the Interview"
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"You sure it won't be too much work for you? I've still got time" He says, though his eyes dart toward the stairs like he's already mentally rehearsing his answers.
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"Get your ass outta here, boy" I snap, shooing him away.
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He peels off his mask and gloves, tossing them on the counter, and bolts upstairs.
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I stare at the chaos he's left behind—smudges of frosting, scattered sprinkles, and that damn burnt smell.
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With a sigh, I quickly wash my hands and start organizing, stacking trays and wiping counters until the space looks less like a war zone and more like a functioning bakery.
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By the time im done organizing, the sun's barely up. I head upstairs to shower and properly prep to open the Bakery.
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Im halfway to the bathroom when the front door creaks open, and Rachel stumbles in, her heels dangling from one hand and a half-empty bottle in the other.
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"Hi Jeeeeeesssssssss" she slurs, her voice bouncing off the walls.
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Oh God, she's drunk as a skunk.
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"Morning, sunshine" I mutter, catching her before she face-plants onto the floor. She reeks of tequila, and her makeup is pretty much smudged.
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I've always worried about her coming back at these ungodly hours. Always wanted her to get a better and non dangerous job, but try convincing someone who pockets atleast $300 a night to quit, and tell me how it goes. Its like convincing a raccoon to stop dumpster diving—pointless and mildly insulting.
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I will admit, I do get tempted to join her in becoming a stripper instead of waiting for some miracle to happen in my job searching, but something always stops me.
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Whether it's the fact that I've got the ass of a prepubescent boy or the certainty that I'd punch the first guy who looks at me like I'm a menu item. I don't know. Still figuring that one out.
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After tucking Rachel in and cleaning her up as best as I could, I continue to the bathroom for a quick shower and a tooth-brushing session.
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Feeling somewhat refreshed after my shower, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and groan at the constellation of pimples forming on my right cheek.
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I knew I should have stuck to my trusty old Nivea face cream. But no, I had to fall for Zephora's '7-Day Propolis Rejuvenating Miracle'.
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More like '7-Day Skin Rebellion'
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Now I'm probably reacting to the crap all because I couldn't just stay without over spending on skincare.
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I slather on some Vaseline, throw on clean clothes, do a quick makeup routine, and tie my hair into a messy bun.
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And I'm ready to start the day.
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In the kitchen, I grab a carton of orange juice from the fridge, snag my laptop and charger, and make my way down to the bakery.
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Once settled, I spot two charred cupcakes from my brother's earlier baking mishap. I decide there and then the cupcakes would be my breakfast, and proceeded to pour a generous amount of juice in a glass cup.
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Lord bless this food, amen.
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Call it a quirk, but I can't stand wasting food, even if it means eating something that looks like it survived 9/11.
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And now that I think about it, I kind of like burnt cake. Really.
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Feeling full and ready to take on the day's work, I quickly tie my apron, put on my face mask and wash my hands. I review the day's baking plan and immediately got to work.
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Two-ish hours later, I'm done and proceed to set everything in the showcase glass. I stand back, admiring them and feeling proud of my work.
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I've been doing this for three years, and I still feel the rush of pride seeing my creations. It's the passion.
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It's almost 8 a.m, so I have the whole space cleaned and spotless, ready to receive customers.
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I flip the door sign to 'Open,' whisper a quick prayer for a smooth day, and settle in with my laptop to check emails.
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My inbox is empty. No rejections, no updates either. Thats better than straight up bad news, I guess.
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I move on to begin the hard and annoying part; Applying to jobs. Going through the listings, I sigh. Here we go.
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Seven applications in, I decide I was done with that particular job aggregator, and move to try another site a friend introduced me to some days ago.
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Going on there, I see a job listing from Valentus Technologies which catch my eye. I feel like I've heard that name before, but can't place where exactly.
They're looking for good marketers and the pay seems too good to be true. Surely, marketers aren't earning this much anywhere in the world. Right?
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Who are these people?
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I'm about to search up the company when the door chimes, signaling a customer coming in. I look up and see Stacy, my longtime regular and friend, rushing in.
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"Good morning, Stacy" I greet her with a smile, closing my laptop.
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"Hey Jess! I'm so late for work. Please tell me the donuts are ready" She pants, barely catching her breath.
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I laugh. Stacy was a walking tornado of chaos, perpetually late, but always full of energy. So I always try to have her donuts ready on time.
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"Ofcourse. The usual?"
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She adjusts her bra straps and nods "Yes please"
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"Coming right up"
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I quickly pack her order, while she swipes her card on the machine.
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"Have a lovely day, and try not to terrorize your coworkers too much" I tease, passing her the pastry bag.
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She laughs, flashing a frazzled grin and bolts, leaving the bell jingling in her wake.
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•••••
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The day went on great, with the cash register singing, espresso machine hissing, and the scent of fresh pastries and cake luring customers like moths to a flame.
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This is why I love food.
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By late noon, the display case is picked clean, crumbs and powdered sugar all that remain of my pastries.
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I've still got cake left though, so I contemplate making a new batch of pastries, but decide against it for no reason.
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Or maybe because I'm lazy. Whatever.
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Laziness wins, so I decide to hop back on my laptop to work on some promotional materials for the bakery.
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I slump onto my corner chair and pry open my laptop. The screen flickers to life, still open to the job listing page I was on. I remember I was going to research more on the company before Stacy came in.
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Valentus Technologies.
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That name gnaws at me—a half-remembered ghost. I type it into the search bar, and the results flood in like a dam breaking.
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No wonder it seemed familiar. This is THE Valentus Technologies.
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There was once a huge scandal. Eleven years ago, the CEO's 23 year old mistress allegedly committed suicide after news about her pregnancy got out. There were rumors about it being murder, like a corporate cover-up. Shit about the Valentus being responsible for killing her to protect their empire. I remember reading about it in school. The tabloids had feasted for months.
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But despite all that, Valentus is still one of the top three giants in the tech and electronics industry. And they aren't number three.
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They're a titan. A $120 billion Goliath churning out everything from kitchen appliances to industrial equipment to AI-driven tractors. They're really big, with immense reach and power.
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Why do billionaires exist, again?
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After checking out their website, and learning a little about the company, I scroll down further and my gaze freezes on a headline: 'New CEO, Roman Valentus Takes the Reins of Tech powerhouse, Valentus'
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Oh, Nothing to see here. Just another grandson taking over from his predecessors. I click the article anyway.
ns3.138.140.5da2
will be deducted 
and then Add to home screen.