"Mr. Aaron... Mr. Aaron!"
Aaron snapped out of his daze, his eyes darting toward the voice. The stern-looking interviewer, a middle-aged man with glasses, frowned at him from across the table. The room was silent except for the soft tapping of a pen against the desk.
Aaron's throat felt dry, and beads of sweat trickled down his temples. He blinked a few times, trying to focus. "Sorry, uh... could you repeat the question?"
One of the female interviewers, seated to the right, exchanged a puzzled glance with her colleague. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked, her tone showing half concern and half annoyance. "You seem... distracted."
Aaron clenched his fists under the table, feeling the weight of their judgment. His mind was a swirling mess, the events of the morning crashing over him like relentless waves. The phone call about his mom being rushed to the hospital. The mounting debt threatening to suffocate him. The loan sharks. The fear of losing everything. It was all too much.
"I'm fine," he muttered, though his voice betrayed him.
The man at the head of the table, clearly the lead interviewer, sighed and tapped the desk with his pen. "Mr. Aaron, we'll have to end this here."
Aaron's heart sank. "Wait—no! Please, give me another chance. I—I'm sorry, I just... I've been dealing with a lot, but I promise—"
The interviewer raised a hand, silencing him. "You're clearly not in the right headspace for this today. There are other candidates waiting, and we need to move on." He gestured toward the door, signaling the security guard to escort Aaron out.
"No, please!" Aaron's voice cracked as he stood up, desperation evident in his trembling frame. "This job—it's everything to me. My mom... she's in the hospital. I need this."
The female interviewer looked away, visibly uncomfortable. Another man at the table muttered, "We don't have time for this."
Aaron felt a hand on his shoulder, firm but not aggressive. The security guard, a burly man in a navy uniform, motioned toward the door. "Let's go, buddy."
"I'm begging you," Aaron pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. "Just one more chance!"
But it was no use. The guard gently but firmly steered him toward the exit. Aaron's chest tightened as humiliation and hopelessness engulfed him.
Just as they reached the lobby, a voice called out, "Wait!"
Aaron turned to see one of the interviewers jogging toward him. He was younger than the others, dressed in a sleek gray suit, and his expression was oddly sympathetic.
"Mr. Aaron!" the man said, slightly out of breath. "Hold on a second."
The security guard paused, loosening his grip on Aaron.
The man handed Aaron a crisp white business card. "Call me," he said hurriedly. "Your resume is impressive, and I think there's a place for you at another company I know. No need for another interview."
Aaron stared at the card, unsure if this was a cruel joke. Before he could respond, the man was already walking back toward the interview room, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder. "Don't waste this chance," he called.
Aaron slipped the card into his bag without a second thought. His mind was still spinning as he left the building, his legs feeling like lead.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and despair. Aaron sat by his mother's bedside, his head in his hands. Her frail form lay motionless, save for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. The doctors had been clear—she needed immediate treatment, and the bills were piling up.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Aaron whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'll figure this out. I promise."
The doctor on duty had allowed him a temporary extension, but the pressure was unbearable. As he left the hospital that evening, the chill of the Toronto night bit through his thin jacket.
When he arrived home, a new nightmare awaited him.
His belongings—clothes, books, even his old laptop—were scattered across the front yard. The landlord stood at the door, arms crossed and face set in a stony glare.
"You're three months behind on rent," the landlord said coldly. "I've been patient, but I can't wait anymore."
"Please," Aaron begged, his voice cracking. "Just give me a little more time. I'll find the money, I swear."
The landlord shook his head. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I have my own bills to pay."
Aaron's shoulders slumped as the reality of his situation hit him. He had nowhere to go. No money. No job. No hope.
Sitting on the curb, surrounded by the remnants of his life, Aaron buried his face in his hands. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to cry.
The business card felt heavier than it should as he fished it out of his bag later that night. He stared at the name printed in bold letters: Adrian Reyes.
Below it, in smaller font, was a single line: "CyberPhantom Solutions—Redefining Tech"
Aaron hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button on his phone. Something about the whole situation felt off. Too convenient. Too easy.
But what choice did he have?
Taking a deep breath, he dialed the number.
The phone rang twice before a voice answered, smooth and confident. "CyberPhantom here. Who am I speaking to?"
"Uh, hi," Aaron stammered. "This is Aaron Fernandez. You—you gave me your card earlier today."
"Ah, Aaron!" Adrian's voice brightened. "I was hoping you'd call. How are you doing?"
"Not great," Aaron admitted. "But... you mentioned a job?"
"Yes, yes," Adrian said quickly. "Listen, Aaron, I saw your resume. You're exactly the kind of person we need at CyberPhantom. No interviews, no hoops to jump through. Just show up tomorrow, and we'll get you started. Trust me, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Aaron frowned. It all sounded too good to be true. But as he glanced around at the chaos of his belongings scattered across the floor, he realized he had no other options.
"Alright," he said finally. "I'll be there."
As he hung up, a gnawing sense of unease settled in his chest. Something about Adrian's enthusiasm felt... off. But desperation had a way of silencing doubt.
Aaron lay back on the cold, hard floor of his now-empty apartment, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, everything will change.
But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger—and far more dangerous.