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Misunderstanding Chaos

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Chapter 4 MORANNA SHARMA POV

It’s been a few days since I started working here.

Rumors say he only meets with the managers and the vice president.

Thank the heavens. I can finally breathe a little. No sudden encounters, no panic.

I don’t want to quit. I actually like it here.

Plus… I think I made a friend. And I don’t want to leave her.

Just as I was lost in thought, I heard someone call my name.

“Moranna!”

I turned around and saw Nitika waving at me like a kid on a sugar rush.

I smiled, already feeling better. “Good morning, Nitika.”

“Good morning!” she beamed. Her eyes sparkled with that same curious light—like she was still trying to solve the puzzle that is me.

I chuckled to myself. She’s too obvious. And way too sweet to be working in this pit of a place.

“Let’s go inside the building before that witch manager shows up and cuts our salary for being one or two minutes late,” she said with peak sarcasm.

I always find her hilarious. “Okay, okay! No need to drag me to my execution.”

We both walked inside.

The moment we reached our desks, the department manager appeared out of nowhere—like a vulture circling fresh meat. She dumped 6–7 files onto my desk without blinking.

“Moranna, complete these. I want them in my office by tomorrow morning.”

Of course. She’s targeting me again.

Everyone in the room glanced over with pity in their eyes.

Yeah, I get it. I’m the newest one here. The perfect punching bag.

My blood pressure was already rising.

No. Not again. I closed my eyes, mentally gripping the calm inside me.

You can’t stab her with a pen in the neck, Moranna.

I repeated it in my head like a chant.

You. Cannot. Stab. Her. With. A. Pen.

I mentally slapped myself.

Control, Mora. Control.

I gave her a fake professional smile. “Okay, ma’am.”

Please leave before I lose my grip on sanity.

She finally scoffed and strutted away like she just won a power battle. I grabbed my bottle and took a long sip of water to cool myself down. Then, I sat up straight, took a deep breath, and opened the first file.

Time to survive another day.

Later that day, I found out the real reason for the ridiculous mountain of work I was given. There’s a selection tomorrow for the CEO’s personal assistant. And of course, that witch of a manager knew it.

She was just jealous—desperate to keep me from showing up. So she buried me under 6–7 files, knowing I’d stay up all night and have no energy left by morning.

I wanted to scream. But I kept working. I had no choice.

Lunch break came and went. And then Nitika rushed over, clearly having heard everything.

“Moranna, I heard what happened. That witch… she’s just asking for a nice beating.” Her eyes blazed with anger as she sat beside me.

I gave her a tired smile. “Hey, it’s okay. I know it sucks, but we can’t really do anything. So just let it go, alright?”

I tried changing the topic—quickly.

“You’re going for the selection, right? You should go. Don’t worry about me. Don’t lose your shot just because of this mess.”

I should’ve known better. Her expression darkened. She practically exploded.

“How can I just leave you like this, Moranna? That’s not happening. We’re teaching her a lesson—and we’re doing it by winning. My work is done for the day. So I’m helping you.”

She pointed at the files like she was preparing for war. I stared at her. She meant it.

“Okay,” I nodded, finally allowing the weight on my shoulders to lift—just a little.

She was right. I needed to go for that selection.

My salary right now? Barely enough to survive.

If I keep working this position, it’ll take 2–3 months just to save enough money to leave this country.

But if I get the assistant job… I’ll make that in one month.

At 10 PM, we finally finished everything.

My hands were aching, my head was spinning, and my eyes were burning—but I felt hope again. And for the first time since starting this job, I let myself dream.

Tomorrow… could change everything.

NEXT DAY

Oh no. Oh shit. I’m done for.

How could I forget he’s coming today? Of all the goddamn days, why today?

The CEO himself—the man I absolutely cannot afford to meet—is coming for the assistant selection.

This is bad.

Really bad.

I can’t let him recognize me. I can’t get selected. Time to go full ninja mode.

First, disguise.

I pop in brown eye lenses—normal enough to not stand out. My black hair blends in fine here. But the real problem is… the birthmark.

I look down at my leg. I’m wearing a pencil skirt, knee-length. If he even accidentally sees it, I’m doomed. No choice—I need makeup to cover it. Desperately. I rush around like a maniac, literally begging two, three coworkers until someone finally hands me a makeup pouch. Bless them.

Good. There’s an extra pair of brown lenses in my bag too—always had one stashed away. Just in case.

I finish everything just in time, panting slightly.

I stare at the mirror: mission accomplished.

That’s when Nitika comes up to me.

“Moranna… why did you wear eye lenses? Your eyes are brown now.”

She’s frowning. Confused. Maybe even… hurt?

I give her a quick excuse. “I have to cover them. If I get selected, others will talk badly about my eyes.”

“Oh.”

She looks down. Quiet. Sad. Nitika’s eyes speak louder than her voice ever could.

I sigh. I don’t have time to comfort her now. But it stings to see her like that.

We head toward the selection room.

The Vice President is taking the interviews—except, it’s not really him.

I know who’s actually in charge.

My brother, hidden behind the curtain, pulling the strings through his earpiece.

Typical.

Candidates go in with shaky legs and come out ghost-pale. Some don’t even say their names before they’re dismissed. Some just stutter and collapse under pressure.

I smirk.

That’s my brother alright. Ruthless. Sharp. Strategic.

I wouldn’t expect less from a man whom I raised myself.

Honestly, he’s still too soft. If it were me, I’d reject half of them just by looking at their resumes.

Still… none of this is my business.

I’m only here to fail.

No way I can afford to get selected. Not when he’s involved. So I searched last night:

“How to get rejected from a job interview.”

The suggestions were wild—some hilarious, others just plain criminal.

I can’t do any of them. But one thing might work.

I’ll act clumsy. Nervous. Face hidden. Mess up something. Just enough to seem like a total disaster.

Yeah. That’ll do.