Like A Pro

***Maeve Thorne***

Stepping past the elevator doors, my cocky, untouchable smile falters for a fraction of a second. This fourth floor is ridiculous. Gray walls accented with actual gold leaf, intimidatingly expensive war paintings, and sleek, dark brown mahogany furniture. Purple orchids spill out of crystal vases in every single corner, screaming old money and ruthless power. It feels more like a high-end, untouchable museum than a corporate waiting area.

My eyes drift to a velvet couch that looks softer than my own mattress. I stretch my shoulders, feeling the unfamiliar pull of my bound chest, ready to sink into those plush cushions for a quick power nap.

"Mr. Thorne? Are you ready? You are next in line."

A sharp voice shatters my dream of a quick rest. Showtime.

I stroll toward the HR office and realize it is a literal fishbowl. Floor-to-ceiling glass, see-through from every angle. No curtains, no decorative couches, no hiding spots. Just plain ergonomic chairs and a sleek table trapped inside a transparent cabin. How intensely boring.

I push the heavy glass door open. "May I come in?"

Three interviewers sit behind the long table. One of them waves a hand, gesturing for me to enter. I greet them all with a crisp nod, drop into the empty chair, and watch as they pull up my resume. Their eyes scan the paper with laser focus.

The guy in the middle, boasting shoulders wide enough to belong to a professional bodybuilder or a very wealthy sugar daddy, leans forward. "What is a young man like you doing here? You are supposed to be out celebrating your graduation. What brings you to our doorstep so soon?"

I pull up my best masculine facade. Deep voice, straight spine, unwavering eye contact.

"Time is money, and I invest my time where I can get real returns," I say, my tone dripping with smooth corporate confidence.

*Translation: I am just conning you for a paycheck so I can fund my own life, open a rival company, and maybe recruit you later.*

Sugar Daddy raises a thick eyebrow, a slight smile cracking his stern face. "We had your certificates and degree verified directly with your college. It is an impressive track record. That is why we cleared you straight for this final HR round. So, tell us, aside from your academic studies, what actual interests do you have?"

*Oh, you know. Running up debts, trying on lacy lingerie, boiling a mean egg. Also, kicking arrogant assholes in the teeth.*

I swallow the sarcasm and channel my inner golden boy. "I was the captain of our college basketball team, the West Prowlers. I took home a silver medal in high school swimming. On weekends, I also volunteer with a local NGO that assists the deaf and underprivileged communities."

The lies flow like sweet honey. For the next fifteen minutes, I spin Maddox’s actual achievements into my own flawless narrative. I rattle off his sports statistics, his leadership seminars, and his charity work without missing a single beat. They hang onto every word.

*Damn, today I realized my brother's resume is actual gold.*

The panel exchanges impressed glances. They eat it up.

"You can join us starting tomorrow," Sugar Daddy announces, tossing the resume onto the desk. "There will be an open orientation session for all employees, including freshers, so you can get familiar with our corporate environment. It was great meeting you, young man. We can see a lot of potential in you."

*I need to start a masterclass. How to Con Billion-Dollar Corporations 101. Or maybe just a tutorial on how to cross-dress and cut your own hair in a bathroom sink.*

"Thank you for your time and for giving me this incredible opportunity to enhance my skills," I say, dipping my head politely. "I am eager to work with you and your company."

A second interviewer, a frail-looking guy who looks like a stiff breeze might shatter his bones, pipes up. Seriously, I think the man would die if I hugged him too tight. "Do you have any questions for us, young man?"

*Can I get a cash advance right now? Maybe borrow a few thousand dollars? Would you mind?*

"Yes, sir," I reply, keeping my voice deep and strictly professional. "I would love to know more about the specific department I will be assigned to and the team members I will be working with."

*Faking this whole masculine corporate prodigy thing is way too much fun.*

The frail man offers a toothy, uneven smile, revealing a missing front tooth. "You will meet your department tomorrow right after the main session we have planned. You are quite enthusiastic. I like that!"

Money. I can practically smell the crisp bills hitting my bank account. Money, money, money.

I flash them a warm, practiced smile and push up from the chair. "It was a pleasure meeting you all. Have a great day."

They nod and smile back. I walk out of the glass cabin, keeping my strides measured and confident. But the second I am safely out of their sight, euphoria explodes in my chest. I did it. The girl who couldn't even pass her basic exams just aced a massive corporate interview. I got the damn job.

Once those paychecks start rolling in, I can finally start my savings and live on my own terms. No forced marriages, no pointless degrees pushed down my throat. Freedom.

I step back toward the elevators, the thrill humming wildly in my veins. But as the polished steel doors slide open, a cold, sharp flash of reality hits my gut. I really can't afford to screw this up. If my disguise slips, if anyone figures out I stole my brother's identity... I am definitely going straight to a concrete jail cell for months.