I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 71: Interview/Test II

Barbara rose from her seat and began confidently, "Hello, everyone. My name is Barbara Longbottom. I’m 34 years old, and I’m a married woman."

As she spoke, she noticed the room’s atmosphere. The other candidates’ passive faces betrayed surprise, while a few stifled snickers revealed their disbelief at her introduction. It was clear they wondered how she had even secured this interview. After all, they had spent their turns elaborating on their illustrious careers and impressive qualifications.

Barbara straightened her posture, her father’s words ringing in her ears: "This job is imperative, and you must secure it." Determined, she lifted her chin and met their gazes head-on.

"Let me add," she continued with renewed vigor, "I am also the daughter of John Bloom, the real estate multimillionaire." Her voice grew stronger. "I share this not as a boast but to emphasize that, from an early age, I have been immersed in the world of luxury. This unique perspective has given me an exceptional knack for understanding what fits others—whether it’s their style, their surroundings, or their aspirations."

Barbara paused, gauging the room’s attention, then pressed on. "Over the years, I’ve provided fashion advice to countless high-profile individuals. My suggestions have been sought by celebrities, CEOs, and influential personalities alike. I’ve even had the honor of discussing fashion with the late Karl Lagerfeld himself—once pointing out a design element he later acknowledged."

She smiled, a mixture of pride and determination lighting her face. "These years of indulgence and exposure weren’t just a privilege; they were preparation. Preparation for moments like this—where I can bring my unique insights and experience to the table. And that is why I am here today i have truly lived the life of luxury and as such i would be a perfect fit." she said with gusto, happy that all her years of indulgence was actually paying out.

Miranda glanced around the room before addressing everyone. "Alright, that concludes the introductions. To determine our luxury curator, each of you will go through a series of tests. The candidate with the highest score will be selected. Now, if you’ll all follow me to the next room."

As the group moved to follow Miranda, Barbara noticed a man walking toward her. He’d been watching her ever since she entered the room. As he approached, he leaned in and whispered, "So that’s where I know you from—you’re the Bloom girl."

Barbara turned to face him, her brow furrowing slightly. The man, who had earlier introduced himself as Hennessy Ford, carried an air of confidence. His credentials were impeccable she even felt he was the most qualified person here having had an illustrious career in the luxury industry. He was a former creative director at a renowned Parisian fashion house, had curated private collections for royalty, and advised on multi-million-dollar interior design projects.

"Pardon me," Barbara said, her voice firm. "Do I know you?"

Amused, Hennessy’s smile widened. "Oh, no, no. Never mind about that," he replied casually, his tone light but laced with mischief. "I’m just curious—what’s someone like you doing here? Word is, you married a millionaire. And, if my memory serves me right, you’ve always hated the idea of working. So, tell me, what’s the princess doing here?"

Barbara blinked, startled that he seemed to know so much about her. Before she could respond, his voice dropped, the words carrying a sharp edge. "Well, it doesn’t matter. My advice? Quit now before you embarrass yourself. Go back to your spoiled little life—it suits you better."

With that, he gave her a dismissive glance and walked away, leaving Barbara stunned

Instead of feeling discouraged, Barbara felt an unexpected surge of determination. She wasn’t about to let some arrogant punk who thought he had her figured out ruin her chances. I need this job, she told herself. And no one is going to stop me. Squaring her shoulders, she strode into the next room with renewed vigor.

Inside, six chairs were arranged in a row, all facing a projector screen. A man stood at the front, reviewing some documents. The candidates began to take their seats as Miranda walked up to the man, whispering something in his ear. He nodded at first, then exchanged a few quiet words with her before stepping forward to address the group.

"Alright," he began, his voice firm and authoritative. "The five of you who remain, please take your seats."

Barbara quickly found her place and joined the others. She noticed the tension in the room as everyone settled in, their expressions a mix of focus and apprehension.

The man cleared his throat and continued, "This phase of the interview is simple. I will display images of various brands, gadgets, and automobiles on the screen. Your task is to correctly identify them. You will have 30 seconds to answer. If you fail to do so, the question will move on to the next candidate. Points will be awarded based on accuracy, and the person with the highest score at the end will advance."

He glanced around the room before pointing at Barbara, who was seated at the edge of the row. "We’ll start with you."

Barbara straightened her posture, her heart racing as the projector flickered to life.

(I considered going through each test in detail, but I felt it might come across as pure filler, and honestly, there are so many ideas bouncing around in my head right now. So, I’ve decided to skip over the tests for now. However, if you’re interested, I could create an auxiliary chapter dedicated to them later.

Before you ask—no, these last few chapters have not been filler! Everything you’ve read so far will play an important role later. Trust me, it’s all coming together. Thank you for sticking with me!)

Hours later, Barbara found herself back in the waiting room, her nerves stretched thin. The interviewers had announced they would reveal the results today, and the tension was palpable.

She clasped her hands tightly, trying to steady her shaking. The tests had been relentless, covering an exhaustive range of topics—cars, watches, clothes, yachts, real estate. At one point, they were even asked to plan an extravagant party and customize a luxury car down to the finest detail. It had been baffling, overwhelming, and oddly exhilarating.

But through it all, one question kept circling in her mind, refusing to let her rest: Who the hell is the client?

Whoever it was, they clearly had the kind of resources most people could only dream of. Enough to warrant all these grueling tests. Enough to keep Barbara on edge as she waited for the final verdict.

Meanwhile, inside one of the offices in the building, the votes were being tallied.

"So, it seems the Ford guy won. I knew it—he came highly recommended," a man said confidently.

A woman’s voice responded, firm but calm. "Yes, he had the highest score. But he wasn’t the only one. Barbara Longbottom managed to tie with him."

"What? That doesn’t matter!" the man snapped. "You know who our clients are. Do you really want to send a spoiled brat there? If—and when—she causes trouble, won’t it backfire on us for introducing her?"

The woman stood her ground. "She tied for the highest score. It wouldn’t be fair to dismiss her outright. She’s proven she knows what she’s doing."

As the two began to argue, the older man in the room finally spoke, his voice cutting through their bickering like a knife. "Enough," he said sharply, drawing their attention.

"We don’t have time for this," the younger man argued. "That’s exactly why we should just pick Ford. He’s the better option."

The older man raised a hand, silencing him. "Benson, you know we’ve built our reputation on providing the best. That girl didn’t just tie—she scored the highest marks in all the years we’ve been doing this. It wouldn’t be right to dismiss her without proper consideration."

Benson frowned, opening his mouth to argue again, but the older man pressed on. "Besides, her perspective on certain issues outperformed Ford’s. Also, as an heiress, she has unique expertise and insight. She’s closer to the client in that regard."

He continued seeing the woman wanted to talk, "But Ford also excelled. In some areas, he surpassed her, and he has the experience to back it up."

Seeing that the older man wasn’t picking a side, the younger man who had conducted the first test asked, "So, what are we going to do?"

Before anyone could answer, the older man’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out, and his eyes widened when he saw the caller ID.

"Silence," he said, holding up a hand as he answered the call. "Hello, Miss Hawthorne."

At the mention of the name, the other two in the room froze, their eyes widening in realization.

After explaining the situation to Miss Hawthorne and assuring her that the curator would be sent by next week, the older man hung up the phone. He turned to the others with a satisfied smile.

"Miranda, you need to go talk to them. Miss Hawthorne just gave us a solution that will solve all of this," he said, his smile widening. The other two exchanged confused looks, unsure of what to make of his sudden optimism.

Meanwhile, Barbara sat nervously, her mind racing. The door opened again, and Miranda—the woman who had introduced them and conducted the second test—walked in.

She stood at the front of the room, clearing her throat. "Sorry for the wait, everyone. There were some complications with the test," she announced, earning murmurs from the group. She paused, letting the tension build before continuing. "We’d like to thank you all for coming."

After a brief silence, she added, "Mr. Ford and Mrs. Longbottom, we’d like you two to stay behind. The rest of you, we’re sorry, but you didn’t get the job."

There was an immediate shift in the room as the others stood up, some of them clearly frustrated. A few even muttered under their breath as they left.

Hennessy, ever confident, smirked when he heard his name called. He knew he was the best, but when Barbara’s name followed, his expression faltered.

Once the others had left, the room was quiet. Hennessy leaned forward, his voice sharp. "So, who got the job?"

Miranda looked between the two of them, her gaze steady. "Actually, the both of you tied for the highest score," she said, her words hanging in the air.

Hennessy muttered under his breath, disbelief creeping into his tone. "Impossible."

Barbara, anxiety bubbling up, quickly spoke up. "Wait, so what does that mean? Who’s actually getting the job?"

Miranda glanced between the two of them, her expression calm despite the tension in the room. "Honestly, this is the first time this has happened," she said, her voice steady. Seeing their confused expressions, she added, "But we have a solution. The client’s representative gave us an idea."

The two of them exchanged glances, waiting for her to elaborate.

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Miranda took a breath before continuing, "You both are asked to go out and buy a set of cars—each of you will pick one. The one whose choice aligns most closely with the client’s taste will get the job."

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of her words settled in. Barbara blinked in surprise, then asked, "What cars?"

Miranda nodded. "Yes, apparently, the client has recently become fascinated with cars. If either of you picks a car that matches his taste, that person gets the job."

Hennessy, who had been growing increasingly frustrated, slammed his hand on the table. "Are you kidding me? We haven’t even seen this so-called client—how are we supposed to know his taste?"

His voice rose in anger. "You’re supposed to be the best middlemen, but this is ridiculous! Why don’t you just conduct the test again? There’s no way I’m going to tie with someone like her!

"I’ll do it," came a voice from Barbara’s side. She turned to see the man she had loathed for so long.

Hennessy let out a small "eh" in disbelief. She glanced at him, then shifted her focus back to Miranda. "I’ll do it. The car—no problem." She stood up, her confidence making Hennessy’s anger flare even more. He stood as well, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just cars, right? No problem, then."

Barbara couldn’t help but snicker, finding some amusement in his frustration.

Miranda smiled warmly. "That’s good. But you both have three days to get your cars. The winner gets the job."

Hennessy scoffed and was about to leave, but paused and turned back to ask, "Wait, what’s the price range for the cars?"

Barbara stopped in her tracks too, curious to hear the answer. She watched as Miranda’s lips curved into a smile. "No limit. When you both have chosen the cars, just call us, and we’ll contact the representative to facilitate the purchase."

Hennessy didn’t say anything else. He just scoffed again, turned, and left, with Barbara following closely behind.

Once outside, Barbara was still reeling from the day’s events. "Is this how all interviews are?" she thought to herself, trying to make sense of everything. Never having been to a job interview before, she was starting to form a rather warped idea of what they might be like.

A scoff broke her train of thought. She looked to her side and saw Hennessy giving her a disdainful look before getting into his Porsche and driving off.

"Humph," Barbara huffed, but then her lips curled into a smile. The task was simple enough: buy a car. It felt strange, but she wasn’t afraid. Cars had always been a special love of hers. Before everything went wrong, she had owned plenty of cars, and she was confident in her taste.

She started walking and tried to hail a cab—something she had been doing more frequently lately.

Meanwhile, on Blackwell Island, three days later Alexander Blackwell was in a meeting inside his home office. Unbeknownst to him, his words of get me a curator had sent two people on a wild goose chase to find a car.

Across from him sat two people—one of them an older woman. She smiled as she addressed him. "Mr. Blackwell, good afternoon. We’ve been looking forward to talking to you."

Another chapter coming soon! I’m posting this one today because of TW_MIRAGE, who has donated so much to me—honestly, it’s insane. I haven’t been writing for very long, and I feel incredibly blessed to have readers like you. Thank you all so, so much! When I saw the donation this morning, I was absolutely shocked. My hands were literally shaking 😂. I even blame TW_MIRAGE for me not being able to write for a bit—couldn’t calm down for a while! 😂😂

But seriously, thank you so much, TW_MIRAGE. You’re the best, and this chapter (and the next) are for you! 🙌

Another chapter is coming soon today, courtesy of—you know who! As for this chapter, I know some of you might be thinking it’s filler, but I promise, it’s not. Please just bear with me, everything will unravel soon. Thank you all for reading, and just hang in there—it’s going to get exciting!

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