The morning light spilled softly through the curtains as Emily Williams stirred awake, stretching lazily beneath her covers. She slowly rose, brushing a hand through her bed-tousled hair before reaching for her phone to check the time.

The time struck her to a core, the date ringing in her head. "Oh God!" She exclaimed. "It's the interview!" She sprang up, rushing into the bathroom.

Her roommate, Rachel stirred up from sleep. "Jesus, Emy, why the early morning alarm!"

"It's the interview!" She shouted from the bathroom.

"Oh!" Rachel remembered. "If that's the case, I hope you're aware that you're late."

"Stop talking to me, I'm trying to be fast!"

Rachel chuckled. "Sure you are."

Emily stood in front of the mirror, she couldn't help but feel a sense of confidence wash over her. She smoothed out her dress, a crisp white blouse with a fitted black skirt, and adjusted her hair, making sure every strand was in place. She took a deep breath, practicing her interview smile, and admired the way her eyes sparkled in the morning light.

Just as she was about to give herself a final once-over, Rachel, poked her head into the room. "Emily, you're going to be late if you keep primping," she said with a laugh.

Emily chuckled and turned to face Rachel. "I just want to make a good impression," she said, striking a pose.

Rachel rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You're going to make a fantastic impression, Em. You're qualified, you're smart, and you're beautiful. Now come on, let's get you out the door."

Emily grinned, feeling a surge of excitement mixed with nerves. "Do you think I'll get the job?" she asked, seeking reassurance.

Rachel's expression turned serious, and she placed a hand on Emily's shoulder. "I know you'll get the job, Em. You're perfect for it. Just be yourself, and you'll nail it."

Emily felt a wave of gratitude toward her. "Rachel, you my dear has always been my biggest supporter, and I know I can count on you to be honest and encouraging."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Just go, I'll see you out."

Emily chuckled, grabbed her bag and followed Rachel out of the apartment. As they walked to the door, Rachel turned to her and said, "Go get 'em, Emy. You've got this."

Emily smiled, feeling a sense of determination wash over her. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and headed out the door, ready to take on the interview and whatever lay ahead.

As Emily stepped out of the house, she felt a sense of familiarity wash over her. She had always started her big days with a visit to her favorite cafe, where she would grab a coffee and collect her thoughts before heading out. It was a ritual she had developed in college, and one that she still cherished to this day.

She walked down the street, her heels clicking on the pavement, and turned the corner onto the cafe's street. But as she approached the cafe, she noticed that something was off. The doors were closed, and a small crowd of customers was gathered outside, looking frustrated.

Emily's curiosity was piqued, and she approached one of the customers, a woman who was checking her watch for what looked like the hundredth time. "Excuse me," Emily said, "what's going on? Why is the cafe closed?"

The woman turned to her and rolled her eyes. "Some rich guy came in and paid to have the cafe to himself until noon," she said. "Can you believe it? I mean, I know money can buy a lot of things, but come on!"

Emily's eyes widened in shock. "That's ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "I need my coffee fix before my job interview. I'm not going to let some rich guy ruin my morning."

The woman nodded in solidarity. "I feel you, honey. But I think you're wasting your time. The owner said the guy was willing to pay top dollar for the privilege of having the cafe to himself."

Emily's determination only grew stronger. "I don't care how much money he's willing to pay," she said, striding towards the cafe door. "I'm going to get my coffee, no matter what."

The crowd of customers called out to her, warning her not to bother, but Emily was undeterred. She pushed open the door and stormed inside, ready to take on whatever rich guy was trying to ruin her morning.

As she walked into the cafe, she was greeted by the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She made her way to the counter, where the barista was busy preparing drinks. Emily ordered her usual cappuccino and waited patiently as the barista expertly crafted her drink.

Just as Emily was about to leave with her coffee, a man in a black suit stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Excuse me, miss," he said, his voice firm but polite. "Who gave you permission to enter the cafe?"

Emily laughed, thinking it was some kind of joke. "The cafe doesn't belong to you or whoever wanted it till noon," she said with a smile. "I'm just here for my morning coffee."

"You're not supposed to be inside here," the man said.

Emily scoffed. "Let's see who'll stop me," she said.

As the man spoke, a figure emerged from the shadows. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jawline. His hair was dark and perfectly styled, and his eyes seemed to bore into Emily's very soul. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie. The scent of expensive cologne wafted off him, and Emily could sense the power and confidence that radiated from him.

But despite his handsome appearance, his expression was cold and unfriendly. He stood before Emily, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Drop the coffee and go."

Emily chuckled, feeling a spark of defiance ignite within her. "You don't control my life, Mr," she said, her voice steady. "I don't care how much money you have, but you shouldn't treat people the way you did just because you have money."

The man's expression didn't change, but his voice took on a slightly harder edge. "I said, drop the coffee and leave," he repeated.

Emily scoffed, trying to walk past him, but the man in black stepped forward, blocking her path. The stranger closed the gap between them, his face inches from Emily's. "I hate stubborn people," he whispered, his breath cold against her skin.

And with that, he reached out and grabbed the coffee cup from Emily's hand, pouring the liquid all over her hair. Emily gasped in shock, she was grateful she didn't order hot coffee but moderate, if not, the pain would have been much and the coffee could as well burn her scalp. She tried to step back, but the man's grip on her arm was like a vice.