Marcel

"This cannot be happening," I mumble under my breath.

I grit my teeth as my echoing heels click against the spotless floor, a constant reminder that everyone is where they're supposed to be--and I'm late. I'm never late.

I glance at my watch, struggling to read the time over my thumping heart.

8:50. The meeting started at 8:20.

"Damn it." I quicken my steps.

The air conditioning does nothing to calm my racing heart.

I'm supposed to be the young, vibrant CEO ready to succeed my father, but right now, I'm just the late, disorganized woman with a coffee stain on her shirt.

Every other Monday, I'm usually settled by now, my notepad out, pen clicking, and ready to get through the meeting with well-organized thoughts. But today is different.

I can't believe I slept through my alarm; it's the most annoying cliche ever. The Thai Latte that was supposed to calm me down only stained my shirt and don't get me started on traffic.

I straighten my red blazer, trying to hide the stain on the shirt inside. The red skirt brushing just above my knees feels tight, but I stretch my legs and smooth out the imaginary wrinkles.

My eyes snap to my distorted reflection in the glass door of another office. Despite my put-together outfit, I look like a mess with long straight tendrils cascading down my back.

I tighten the grip on my Channel handbag.

You can do this. Slip in with confidence and no one will notice you're late.

I take a deep breath, the pep talk serving its purpose, and push open the doors.

The moment I step into the room, I fight to keep my knees from buckling as all eyes turn to me.

With a tiny smile, I take in the gleaming boardroom with its floor-to-ceiling windows and the polished black table in the middle.

Men and women in sharply tailored suits sit around the table, their gazes boring into me. The chit-chat and humming I heard earlier from the other side of the door have ceased. I know these people but today, their gazes make me want to melt away.

Confidence, where are you?

Through the chaos, my eyes meet Dad's, seated at the head of the table. His stance is relaxed yet commanding. Eduardo Navarro isn't a man of many words; his actions speak for him.

He's wearing a dark brown suit and a white shirt, his graying hair perfectly slicked back.

I notice the tick in his jaw when he looks at me. He is not happy.

I can't believe I'm blowing this after years of trying to meet his expectations. Today's meeting is important; he's supposed to formally introduce me as his successor, although I'm not sure he wants to do that now.

My stomach coils at the thought, but I don't let it show.

"Don't ever let them see your weakness," Mom's words echo in my head so I raise it high and scan the room. The only empty seat is across from Lorian fucking Dao. As if the day couldn't get any worse.

Suppressing the urge to turn and leave, I meet Lori's eyes. The expected cocky grin curves her full lips.

Lori looks like she's been vomited on by pink candy. She's effortlessly composed, as always, with her shoulder-length dark brown hair tousled, surprise; she always looks like she just rolled out of bed and came to work with no glance in the mirror.

"You're late," Lori whispers as I slide into the seat.

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for noticing."

I rummage through my bag, pulling out my notebook and ignoring the new one in front of me. How do these people stay organized with fresh notebooks every two weeks?

Rachel, the tall brunette from Data and Analytics, clears her throat, commanding attention. The room falls silent.

"Ms. Navarro, thank you for joining us. We were just reviewing the graphs for last month's activities."

I nod, jotting down nothing. From the corner of my eye, I see Lori's smirk widen, but I ignore her, focusing on the projected screen instead.

Rachel continues the presentation, but even when my eyes stay glued to the screen, I can't concentrate. I'm fully aware of Dad's gaze fixed on me, watching my every move.

Unlike Mom, Dad doesn't express his disappointment immediately. He lets it simmer before it surfaces. As his only child, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

I tighten the grip on my pen with every word Rachel says.

Keep it together, I tell myself.

I can't afford to let this day go to shit and Lori's grin isn't helping.

I don't know if Lori knows this yet, but I hate her. From the bottom of my heart or the core of my stomach.

My hatred for her wasn't always there. We started working here at around the same time. We clicked immediately and became fast friends, but after one night of booze and a lot of face-sucking, we just grew distant. It wasn't hard ignoring each other; She worked in Creatives and Media on the other wing, while I was in Business Development and Strategy.

But I don't hate her for the fallout; I hate her because Dad favors her over me.

Too naíve thinking I'd have an easy path because of my birthright, Lori has been an undying barrier.

She's bright, intelligent, and has all the qualities Dad values.

A harsh reminder that I'm falling short.

"Unfortunately, our quarterly earnings have dropped to below fifty percent in comparison to our input," Larry, head of Finance, says, taking over after Rachel. "A quick survey among our target pop showed we didn't do much to sell the catchiness of the products under FreshFix."

"What does that mean?" Dad asks, frowning.

"We lacked attractive designer ads for the product."

My gaze shifts to Lori, head of Creatives.

"Maybe Ms. Dao can explain why," I say, my voice laced with amusement.

Lori clears her throat, sitting up straight. "I admit the FreshFix designs weren't appealing, but I was working within the budget."

"I don't think that's a valid excuse," I counter. "I've seen people do a lot with less."

"Have you?" Lori's tone is calm but edged.

Heat rises in my neck. I'm getting annoyed, but if I back down, I am weak.

"I believe you should take responsibility for your work, not blame the budget," I retort, my jaw clenching.

Lori's gaze turns icy. "I don't tell you how to do your job, so don't tell me how to do mine. The budget was poor, and that's why the results were poor."

My fingers tighten around my pen. "I'd never, but the numbers are clear." I shrug innocently, enjoying the reaction I've provoked.

Lori's eyes narrow, her hands clenched into a fist. She's ready to lash out, but before she can, Dad clears his throat, cutting through the tension.

"Thank you, ladies," he says, his eyes fixed on me as if I'm the one at fault.

I should've seen that one coming.

"I'm disappointed with the numbers, but we can't be crying over spilled milk. On that note, we have a huge deal coming in from MedVax, a company looking to promote its healthcare products. We can't afford to mess this up."

I swallow, my ears perking up at the mention of a new project. There's still a chance for me to prove my worth. If I take this up and succeed, it could help me earn Dad's favor and secure my place as his successor.

"I believe the offer has potential, but only if we strategize carefully. We can't let it end up like FreshFix." I glance at Lori's bored expression.

Dad doesn't speak, just nods.

"I'd like to spearhead the project to ensure its success," I say, wondering where the oldness came from.

If I mess this up, I'm fucked and I think Dad considers that too.

There's silence. Dad's expression remains unchanged.

I wonder if he thinks I'm not good enough.

++++

Hey, meet Marcelina.
Hope you had fun.
See you in the next chapter!!
NOMMY 🔥