I cringed internally, imagining myself in the interviewer’s seat, asking someone this question and receiving such a clichéd response. I would have straight-up yawned or told them,
"Alright, Miss…"
"Nadia," I quickly offered.
"Right, we will get back to you via email."
That… I would straight up tell them that.
This content is taken from freёwebnovel.com.
He wasn’t going to call back or even bother sending an email, I knew that for certain. My previous interviewers had all done the same.
I didn’t waste any time, I left the firm, stopped a taxi, and headed straight to a lounge where one of my best friends worked. As I approached the counter where she sat casually, she jumped off her stool and brought out a vanilla cake with the inscription "Yay!!!" written on it.
"I didn’t get in," I told her with a small smile, feeling somewhat happy about the effort she had put into making me a cake.
Just as I tried to lick the icing, she withdrew the cake and bent down behind the counter.
"Hey, I was going to taste that—" I began to whine when she stood upright with another cake, a chocolate cake this time with the inscription "Ayy" written on it.
"Ayy?" I asked, slightly confused.
"Yas! Ayy..." she exclaimed, bending her knees slightly and twerking playfully.
I burst out laughing.
"So, we’re celebrating my failure? Not bad..." I chuckled.
"No, girl, we’re celebrating their loss," she countered, grinning. "They lost a gem like you—"
"Stop..." I started to say, unable to control my laughter at this point. Her words were a bit cheesy, but she was my best friend, so I didn’t mind.
"But you know, I never understand why you don’t want to tell them who your father is," my best friend Celestine started. "If I were in your shoes, I would start by introducing myself with my surname, to keep them on their toes."
My smile faltered for a moment at the mention of my father, but I tried to play it off by taking a bite of the chocolate cake. "This is so nice," I told Celestine instead.
"Thank you, I did it myself," she gushed, but upon realizing I was trying to change the subject, her expression changed, and she gave me a skeptical "Really?" look before taking her seat back on the stool.
"I’m serious though, if you weren’t my friend, I would have thought you were faking your identity."
"You mean if you hadn’t Googled me and found nothing, until I showed you a photo and you witnessed several video calls?"
Celestine rolled her eyes at me.
"Fair point," she said. "But you can’t blame me though, your family is so private. Some celebrities or rich people would be all over the net, flaunting their wealth and pretty daughters, but yours is different. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have known that Mr. Larforteza, your father, is a widower or that you even have a sister."
"I knew there was a reason you didn’t gift me something sour to commemorate my failure to secure another job," I said with a hint of sarcasm. "I have you already."
Celestine rolled her eyes again before leaning in closer.
"But for real though, maybe it’s high time you start making use of your privilege," Celestine said. "I mean, I would... you could even work at your father’s firm... or ask your sister for help. It breaks my heart somewhat to see you running around looking for a job since we graduated."
I remained silent, as there was nothing to say. Her suggestions were reasonable, indeed it would make life easier for me.
But while I had confided in her about Mr. Larforteza, the man I had come to know as my father, there were certain things I had kept to myself.
How could I explain to her that the father I had grown up with wasn’t my biological father?
I couldn’t bring myself to confide in her about that; I feared she might look at me differently and not want to be friends with me anymore. Right now, she was the only person I could talk to comfortably... sometimes.
After my mom died, my father had fallen critically ill, requiring a blood transfusion. During the testing process, it was discovered that my sister was a match, but I wasn’t. The test results revealed that I wasn’t his biological child.
From that day on, he destroyed every picture of my mom and stopped treating me with kindness.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be a reasonable explanation for this revelation.
My mom had lost her virginity to my father, or Mr. Larforteza, as he now preferred I call him, so I had always assumed I was his child.
But science doesn’t lie, and I was forced to accept the harsh truth that I was not the exception to the rule.
Sure, my sister Celia wasn’t aware of what had happened, and she still cares for me, but she was treated as the firstborn daughter in my stead.
My father had even gone so far as to make it known in the household that every asset he owned was to be given to her, if he’s no more, leaving me with nothing.
That’s why it’s so hard for me to go around boasting about his name. If he were to find out, and he always seemed to have a way of discovering things, I would never hear the end of it.
I had even made up my mind to conceal my surname, but when I was in college, Celestine was my Roomate so she happened to see a lot of my video calls with my sister and sometimes father.
The next day, everyone learned I was Mr. Laforteza’s first daughter. I quickly realized I couldn’t trust Celestine with some information, given her… enthusiasm.
That’s why I had yet to reveal to Celestine the real reason I hadn’t been using my father’s name, and I didn’t intend to. My goal was to build a life where people would know me for who I am, on my own merit... but with my credit cards starting to decline and no job in sight, that dream was starting to seem like a childish fantasy I once had.
My phone suddenly rang jolting me out of my thoughts. I brought it out of my purse and eyes widened.
Mr Larfortaza, my father, was calling me.
Celestine peeped and on seeing who was calling, she yelled excitedly. "Pick up!"
I picked up immediately, quite curious myself.
I cleared my throat and said, "Hello?" The line was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if he had butt-dialed me. That would seem plausible since he rarely calls. We only speak because of my sister, Celia.
But then his voice rang out, sending shivers down my spine. "Nadia, how are you?"
I was taken aback, suddenly at a loss for words. ’How am I? I don’t know, hOw… aM I ?’ I thought to myself.
Just as I was struggling to respond, Celestine jumped in, mimicking my voice, "Fine, dad."
I mouthed ’what the fuck is wrong with you?’ to Celestine before placing the phone back to my ear, just in time to hear strict and stern orders.