Billion dollar adventure: Meeting Mr arrogant

Chapter 1 : Lucy

Lucy's world felt like a storm caught in the eye of quiet moments. Seated on the worn-out couch in her aunt and uncle's modest living room, her gaze drifted toward the cracked windowpane, where early morning light spilled lazily over the kitchen tiles. The quiet rustle of wind outside mingled with the faint hum of traffic in the distance. Her heart felt heavy today, the way it did on mornings when the weight of her past seemed to press down on her chest a little harder than usual.

She had just finished her final exams, her matric certificate now tucked safely in a drawer beside her bed. It was a bittersweet moment-one of accomplishment, yet tainted with the sharp sting of uncertainty. Life after matric felt like stepping out onto a vast, open plain where the ground was uneven and the horizon stretched endlessly, taunting her with its vastness.

Lucy ran a hand through her wavy brown hair, her fingers grazing over a few tangles as her mind began to drift back. She hadn't meant to go there-to that place in her memory that still held too much pain-but some days, it felt unavoidable. Her mother. The thought of her was like a deep wound that refused to heal, no matter how hard she tried to forget.

It was a cold winter morning when her mother had left. Lucy remembered it vividly, though part of her wished she didn't. The sky had been a dull shade of grey, the kind that seemed to swallow the world in its dreariness. Lucy had been bundled up in a too-big coat, her small hands clutching her mother's fingers as they stood on her aunt and uncle's doorstep. She was only five, too young to understand the look in her mother's eyes as she kissed her cheek for the last time. Too young to realize that those hurried footsteps retreating down the sidewalk would never come back.

For years, Lucy had replayed that moment in her mind, wondering what she had done wrong. What had caused her mother to leave her behind without so much as a goodbye? The ache of abandonment had followed her like a shadow, creeping into every corner of her childhood. It left her feeling unwanted, a burden in the home of her aunt and uncle, where love was present but often strained.

Her aunt, Patricia, was a woman hardened by life's difficulties. She had a sharp tongue and an even sharper gaze, always finding something to correct in Lucy. Whether it was the way Lucy set the table or the way she dressed for school, Patricia's words were rarely kind, though Lucy knew, deep down, that her aunt cared in her own rigid way. Patricia had taken Lucy in, after all, when her own mother had left her behind.

Her uncle, Joe, was the opposite-gentle, kind, but distant. He was a man of few words, preferring the quiet solace of his woodworking shed to the noise of family life. Though he never raised his voice to Lucy, she often felt the chasm between them, an emotional distance that neither of them knew how to bridge. Joe was a provider, always making sure there was food on the table and a roof over their heads, but when it came to matters of the heart, he struggled to connect.

Lucy's childhood was, in many ways, a lonely one. She was a quiet girl, preferring the company of books and the solace of her own thoughts to the hustle and bustle of playground friendships. She'd never been good at making friends, always fearing that they would leave her just as her mother had. The few friendships she did form were tentative, fragile things that never lasted more than a few months.

But as she grew older, Lucy found a different kind of solace-one that didn't require the validation of others. Her schoolwork became her sanctuary. She threw herself into her studies with a determination that surprised even her teachers. She wasn't the smartest in her class, but she was one of the hardest working. Late nights spent bent over textbooks, weekends sacrificed to extra tutoring sessions-Lucy did it all without complaint. She knew that if she wanted a better life, if she wanted to escape the smallness of her world, education was her only way out.

Her hard work paid off. By the time she reached matric, she had solid grades-good enough to apply for university if she wanted to. But university wasn't an option. Money was tight, and her aunt and uncle had made it clear that they couldn't afford to send her to school beyond what the government provided. The job market was her next destination, though even that felt uncertain.

Lucy sighed, her eyes drifting away from the window. The bakery. Her aunt and uncle's little shop had been the one constant in her life that felt like home. It was a small, unassuming place nestled between a butcher shop and a flower stall on the corner of a busy street. The smell of freshly baked bread and pastries often wafted down the road, drawing in the regulars who had been coming for years.

When Lucy was younger, she had spent countless afternoons after school sitting at the small wooden table in the back of the bakery, watching her aunt and uncle work. Her aunt would knead dough with the same stern precision that she approached everything in life, while her uncle handled the ovens, his quiet nature a stark contrast to the heat and noise that surrounded him.

It was in that bakery that Lucy had discovered her love for baking. At first, it had been a way to pass the time, a way to avoid the loneliness that often settled over her like a thick blanket. But as she grew older, it became something more-a passion, a way for her to express herself in a world that often left her feeling voiceless.

The act of baking soothed her. The rhythmic kneading of dough, the soft puff of flour as it dusted the countertop, the warm, comforting smell of bread as it rose in the oven-it all made her feel like she had control over something in her life. Baking was an art, and Lucy found herself lost in its intricate details, learning the difference between a perfect rise and a dough that was too dense, the balance of flavors that could turn a simple loaf into something extraordinary.

Her aunt had noticed her interest and, over time, began to teach her more. Lucy learned how to mix the perfect ratio of ingredients, how to tell when the dough was ready just by its texture, and how to create delicate pastries that melted in your mouth. It was the only time when her aunt seemed truly pleased with her, and Lucy cherished those moments of quiet approval, no matter how rare they were.

Now, at eighteen, Lucy stood at a crossroads. The bakery offered her a sense of stability, a place where she could lose herself in the comforting routine of flour and sugar, but it wasn't enough. She knew she wanted more, needed more, than the confines of that small shop could offer.

But what did more look like? The job market was bleak, and every day, Lucy heard stories of people struggling to find work, even those with university degrees. She had no formal training, no qualifications beyond her matric certificate and the years she had spent helping in the bakery. Was that enough? Was she enough?

The weight of the questions pressed down on her, heavy and relentless. Lucy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She couldn't let her fear control her, not now. She had come too far, worked too hard to let her past define her future.

Perhaps the bakery wasn't her final destination, but it was a start-a place to begin building something of her own. She could bake, create, and maybe one day, she could turn that passion into something bigger than she had ever imagined.

For now, though, Lucy would take things one step at a time.