Anshika's POV:

I stepped out of the mansion, the morning air brisk against my skin. I glanced back at Arjun, who was still standing at the entrance, looking half-awake, and I couldn't help but shake my head. "I'm off, Arjun. Try not to get lost in your books today, okay?" I teased, waving him off as I headed to the car waiting by the driveway.

The driver, Rajiv, was already prepared, and I slid into the back seat, settling into the plush leather. "To the office, Rajiv," I instructed, feeling a slight buzz of anticipation as we pulled out onto the road. The city was coming to life, the streets bustling with early morning activity, and I couldn't help but let my mind drift to the day ahead. There were meetings, calls, and a million things to address, but that was the thrill of it all. The chaotic, exhilarating pace of my life was exactly how I liked it.

I mentally reviewed my schedule, but my thoughts were interrupted when we arrived at the building. As I stepped out of the car, the sleek glass façade of my company's headquarters gleamed under the morning sun, a symbol of everything I had built. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and walked toward the entrance, my heels clicking sharply against the polished pavement.

The moment I stepped through the revolving doors, I could tell something was off. The usual hum of focused work was replaced by loud, frantic voices echoing across the lobby. A quick glance around revealed a small crowd gathered near the reception area, and in the centre of it all, I spotted Mr. Malhotra, my floor manager, looking flustered as he tried to calm down two very irate individuals — a man and a woman, both gesturing animatedly and clearly not happy.

"What's going on?" I muttered under my breath, quickening my pace. As I approached, I caught bits and pieces of their conversation, words like "unacceptable," "mismanaged," and "flawed designs" filtering through the chaos. The tension was palpable, and I could see Mr. Malhotra's forehead glistening with sweat as he tried to pacify the duo.

I cleared my throat, and the crowd parted slightly, their eyes widening as they realised I was there. Mr. Malhotra turned to me, relief washing over his face. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry about this commotion. We've been trying to—"

I raised a hand to stop him. "It's fine, Mr. Malhotra. Tell me what's happening," I said, my tone calm yet firm. I couldn't afford to let any of this get out of hand. Whatever was causing this scene needed to be addressed quickly and efficiently.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at the two individuals who were still glaring at him. "These two are our clients, and they're upset about the recent batch of designs. It seems there's been some issue with the themes and the final product."

I nodded, digesting this information. "I see. I'll take it from here." I stepped forward, my gaze locking onto the man and woman, who were now looking at me expectantly. "Good morning. I'm Anshika Antil, the owner. I understand there's a problem with the designs. Could you please explain what the issue is?"

The woman, who was elegantly dressed yet visibly stressed, stepped forward first. "Ms. Antil, my name is Shalini Mehra. We placed an order for our autumn collection, and when the samples arrived, the colours were completely off. The designs we had approved were supposed to have a warm, earthy palette, but what we received... it's just not right."

Before I could respond, the man jumped in, his voice sharp with frustration. "I'm Aman Verma, and my concern is similar. The patterns were supposed to follow a specific theme that we discussed in detail, but what we have now looks like a last-minute mash-up. We have deadlines, and this is simply unacceptable!"

I could feel the weight of their words as they echoed around us, and for a moment, I let their complaints sink in. Design flaws? That wasn't like my team. We pride ourselves on quality and precision, and this was the first I was hearing of any such issue.

I took a deep breath, maintaining my composure. "I understand your concerns, and I apologise for the inconvenience this has caused you. I assure you that this isn't how we operate. If there's been a mix-up, I will personally see to it that it's resolved immediately." I turned to Mr. Malhotra. "I need the details — how did this happen?"

Mr. Malhotra fumbled with his notepad, flipping through pages as if hoping the answer would magically appear. "Ma'am, we checked everything before sending out the samples, but there seems to have been a miscommunication between the design team and the production unit. They might have used the wrong templates."

I could feel my patience wearing thin, but I kept my expression neutral. "I want all the heads of departments involved in this on a call within the next thirty minutes. We need to find out exactly where the issue occurred and fix it immediately. And as for you," I said, addressing Shalini and Aman, "I will make sure this is sorted out. You have my word. If the designs don't match your expectations, we'll redo them at no extra cost, and I will personally oversee the corrections."

Shalini and Aman exchanged glances, their expressions softening slightly. "Thank you, Ms. Antil. We appreciate your attention to this. We were just... frustrated because we didn't expect this from such a reputed brand."

"I understand, and your frustration is valid. We take our reputation seriously, and we'll make sure it remains intact," I said, giving them a reassuring smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to the bottom of this. I'll have an update for you by the end of the day."

They both nodded, looking somewhat appeased, and slowly started to disperse. As the lobby cleared, I turned back to Mr. Malhotra, my tone sharper now that we were out of earshot. "I want to know how this slipped through the cracks. We have standards, and this is not them."

"I'll gather everyone right away, ma'am," he said, visibly relieved that the situation hadn't escalated further. "I'm really sorry for this."

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again," I replied, striding towards the elevator. My mind was already whirring, strategizing the next steps. Mistakes were bound to happen in any business, but how we handled them was what set us apart. And I was determined to make sure this was an isolated incident.

The doors of the elevator slid shut, and as I ascended to my office. There was no room for error, and never happened before, not when the stakes were this high. If something needed to be fixed, I was going to fix it. And if someone was responsible, I was going to find out who.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the sleek, modern interior of my office floor. I stepped out, already pulling out my phone to send a quick message to the design lead, instructing them to be ready with explanations. I wasn't in the mood for vague answers or half-baked excuses. Whatever had happened, I needed clarity, and I needed it fast.

As I strode down the corridor, the familiar scent of coffee and the faint hum of chatter filled the air. My assistant, Reema, rushed up to me, a stack of files clutched in her hands. "Good morning, ma'am. I heard about the commotion downstairs. Should I—"

"Cancel my morning meetings and push everything to the afternoon," I said, cutting her off. "I need to deal with this situation first. Get everyone involved in the production and design teams into the conference room in ten minutes."

Reema nodded, her eyes widening slightly at my tone, and hurried off to make the necessary arrangements. I continued down the hallway, my mind running through all the possibilities. Could it have been a simple miscommunication, or was there something more to this? I had been in this industry long enough to know that sometimes, things weren't as straightforward as they appeared.

As I pushed open the door to my office, I was momentarily taken aback. Sitting in one of the chairs, casually flipping through a magazine, was someone I hadn't expected to see this morning — Isha, my best friend. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and she flashed a mischievous grin.

"Well, well, look who's already putting out fires so early in the day," she said, crossing her legs and leaning back. "I was hoping to catch up over coffee, but I guess drama always follows you, huh?"

I let out a sigh, shaking my head as I walked over to my desk. "Isha, what are you doing here? I thought you were travelling."

"I was, but I decided to cut my trip short. I missed you, and besides," she said, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I heard you were getting married to Aman Sharma, and I couldn't resist coming back to see how you're handling that."

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. "Can we not talk about him right now? I have a real crisis on my hands and they are all rumours so please.."

"Oh, I know," she said, sitting up straighter. "I saw the whole scene downstairs. Pretty intense. But you've got this, as always."

"I wish I shared your confidence," I muttered, setting my bag down and glancing at the files Reema had left on my desk. "There's something off about all this. It's not like my team to make such a glaring error. I need to get to the bottom of it."

"Well, I'd love to stay and watch you work your magic, but I have a brunch date I can't miss," Isha said, standing up and smoothing out her dress. "Just remember — if things get too crazy, you can always call Aman and ask for advice. I'm sure he'd love to help."

I shot her a glare, and she laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving. But seriously, good luck." She winked and sauntered out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I barely had time to process our brief exchange before Reema's voice crackled through the intercom. "Ma'am, the conference room is ready. Everyone is assembled."

"On my way," I replied, grabbing a notepad and heading out.

As I entered the conference room, the atmosphere was tense. The design and production leads were already there, along with a few other department heads, all of them looking slightly uneasy. They knew I wasn't going to let this slide easily, and frankly, I didn't care if they were nervous.

"Alright, let's get straight to the point," I said, taking a seat at the head of the table. "I want to know what happened with the latest batch of designs. We're getting complaints about mismatched colours and patterns, and that's unacceptable. So, who can explain?"

The design lead, a young woman named Pooja, looked up first. "Ma'am, the initial designs we created were approved without any issues. But during the final phase of production, there were... changes made. Someone altered the colour palettes and patterns without informing the team."

"Altered?" I repeated, my eyes narrowing. "Who authorised these changes?"

Pooja hesitated, exchanging a nervous glance with the production head, Ravi. "That's the thing... no one from our team authorised it. The changes were uploaded directly to the system by an external source."

I felt my pulse quicken. "An external source? Are you telling me we've been hacked?"

"Not exactly, ma'am," Ravi interjected. "It wasn't a typical breach. The system was accessed using credentials that belong to a senior employee... someone who hasn't been in the office for the past few weeks."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a cold chill run down my spine. "Whose credentials?"

"Rajesh Verma," Ravi said quietly. "He's on a leave of absence, but his login was used to make these changes last night. We don't know how it happened, but it's clear someone has access to our systems that shouldn't."

The room fell silent, and I could see the unease spreading across the faces around the table. This was more than just a miscommunication. Someone was deliberately tampering with our designs, and they had managed to do it without raising any alarms.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "I want an investigation started immediately. Check the logs, trace the IP address, do whatever you need to do. We need to find out who's behind this, and we need to do it fast. And until we have answers, I want all design access restricted. No one makes any changes without my explicit approval."

The team nodded, but I could see the anxiety in their eyes. This wasn't just a minor issue anymore — it was a direct threat to our operations, and I wasn't going to let it slide.

As I stood up to leave, my phone buzzed with a new message. I glanced at the screen, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the sender: Aman Sharma.

"Morning, Anshika. I heard you're having some trouble at the office. Need any help? 😉"

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to throw my phone across the room. How did he know? Was he behind this? It didn't seem like his style, but I couldn't rule anything out.