**Board of Directors Meeting, Wellington Einstein Luthor (W.E.L.) Int. Group of Companies**

  Weeks after the untimely and unsettling death of W.E.L. Int.'s Chairman, the air in the opulent boardroom crackled with a palpable tension. The polished mahogany table reflected the anxious faces of the assembled Board of Directors, each member grappling with the implications of the power vacuum. "Good to see you," various members murmured to one another, their greetings laced with a forced cordiality that barely masked the underlying unease. The meeting, convened to address the pressing matter of succession, commenced with a heavy silence. A distinguished-looking member, Mr. Thompson, his face etched with the lines of years spent in the corporate world, stood up and cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the room.

"The Chairman's seat remains empty," he stated, his voice resonating through the room, emphasizing the stark reality of their situation. "And as a globally recognized organization, a powerhouse in the international business arena, we need decisive leadership. We need someone to guide us through this challenging period. Therefore, I propose we select an acting Chairman without further delay."

 Another member, Mrs. Albright, equally influential and ambitious, rose to second the motion. "I wholeheartedly agree. And I firmly believe Mr. Rufus, the late Chairman's brother, is the most logical and appropriate choice. His extensive experience within the company, coupled with his intimate knowledge of its operations, makes him the ideal candidate to assume this crucial role."

 A ripple of murmurs, like a restless undercurrent, spread through the room. "Where's the heiress?" someone whispered, the question hanging in the air, unanswered. "She wasn't even present at her father's funeral," another remarked, a hint of disapproval coloring their tone. "Mr. Rufus should be Chairman; it's his birthright." "No, not Rufus!" someone else countered vehemently, their voice laced with suspicion. "We should take a vote; that's the only fair and democratic way to decide."

 Rufus, a man of considerable presence and carefully cultivated charm, raised a hand, his gesture commanding silence. "Enough," he said, his voice smooth and controlled, a carefully crafted expression of humility gracing his features. "I've heard your suggestions, and I'm deeply touched by the trust you've placed in me. I'm truly honored by your offer. However," he paused, allowing his words to sink in, "for the time being, I will remain as Vice Chairman of our esteemed company. We must proceed with caution, with unity, and with the best interests of W.E.L. at heart."

 The murmurs intensified, swirling around the room like a gathering storm. "So humble," one whispered sarcastically, rolling their eyes discreetly. "He's just playing it safe, biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to seize control," another countered, their voice laced with cynicism. "He's the late Chairman's brother; he should automatically inherit the position. It's only natural." "Certainly not!" a dissenting voice exclaimed, rejecting the notion outright. The board was irrevocably divided, their opinions clashing like opposing forces.

**The Reception, W.E.L. Int. Group of Companies**

"It's such a stressful day," Anna sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair and stretching languidly, her movements exaggerated.

"It's only 10:00 a.m.," Danny pointed out dryly, his eyes still glued to his computer screen. "The day hasn't even officially begun, and you're already complaining. You're going to need a serious caffeine infusion to get through this, my friend."

Anna, completely ignoring Danny's sarcasm, pulled out a compact mirror from her purse and checked her reflection meticulously. "Don't I look beautiful?" she asked, more to herself than to Danny. She gestured dramatically toward the gleaming glass doors of the reception area. "I'm just waiting for a wealthy, handsome man to walk through those doors, sweep me off my feet with his irresistible charm and charisma, and then we'll get married in a lavish ceremony, and I can finally, blissfully, quit this soul-crushing job."

  Danny snorted derisively, finally looking up from his work. "Hello! Snap back to reality, Anna. We're in real life, not some cheesy fairy tale, remember? Prince Charming isn't coming to rescue you from your receptionist duties. Besides," he added with a playful grin, "you'd probably scare him away with your constant complaining."

 "You're so annoying," Anna huffed, turning away from Danny to admire her reflection in the mirror. "You're such a pessimist. You need to have a little romance, a little fantasy, in your life."

**The Entrance, W.E.L. Int. Group of Companies**

  A sleek, black limousine, gleaming like polished obsidian, glided silently to a stop at the company's main entrance, its sudden arrival disrupting the usual quiet hum of the morning. The security guards, stationed at the gate, exchanged puzzled and slightly apprehensive glances. One of them, a young man named Kevin, known for his by-the-book approach to security, approached the vehicle cautiously.

  "Excuse me, sir," he said politely, trying to maintain a professional tone despite the growing unease. "Cars aren't allowed to park directly at the entrance. It's company policy. Please park in the designated parking lot."

  The limousine's tinted window rolled down silently, and a woman inside turned to face the guard, her features initially obscured by the shadows. "Roll out the red carpet," she commanded, her voice crisp and imperious, leaving no room for negotiation or discussion.

  Kevin blinked, completely taken aback by the unexpected request. "What did you say?"

"I said, roll out the red carpet," she repeated, her tone laced with impatience. "Are you hard of hearing?"

  "But, miss, this isn't an awards ceremony," Kevin stammered, his mind struggling to grasp the situation. "And we're a corporate company, not a movie studio. We don't even *have* a red carpet readily available. It's not standard procedure."

  "Do as you're told," the woman snapped, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

  "Hey! Who do you think you are?" Kevin retorted, his professionalism momentarily slipping under the weight of her arrogance.

  "I'm someone who can get you fired in an instant," she replied coolly, her gaze unwavering. "Do as I say, and roll out the red carpet. It's not a request; it's an instruction. Is that perfectly clear?"

  "Are you kidding me? Get *me* fired?" Kevin scoffed, but a flicker of unease crept into his heart. "You must be joking."

  The woman, with a deliberate and dramatic gesture, removed her dark sunglasses, her gaze locking onto Kevin's. "Is this how you treat your clients?" she asked, her voice dripping with ice. "Since you clearly have no manners, and no understanding of protocol, my car won't move from this spot. Consider it a lesson in customer service and proper etiquette." She replaced her sunglasses, and the window rolled up smoothly, effectively cutting off any further discussion.

  "Damn it," Kevin muttered under his breath, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. He rushed back to his superior, who was observing the increasingly bizarre scene from the security booth. "There's a crazy lady out there," he reported breathlessly, his voice laced with exasperation. "She drove her limo right up to the entrance and refuses to move an inch until we roll out a red carpet for her. She's threatening to get me fired!"

  "Where is she?" his superior, a burly man named Johnson, asked, his face turning a shade of red.

 "She's right outside, sir, blocking the entire entrance and causing a major scene."

  "Let's go," Johnson said grimly, marching towards the entrance, his jaw clenched and his fists balled.

  "Hello, miss," Johnson began, trying to maintain a semblance of professional calm. "I understand there's been a misunderstanding. Could you please explain the situation?"

  "You want me to repeat myself?" the woman asked, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain. Johnson, taken aback by her attitude, turned to Kevin for clarification.

  "Miss, we're a company," Johnson explained, trying to reason with her. "We don't have red carpets readily available. And even if we did, they'd be reserved for very important national and international clients, not just anyone who demands one."

  "I *am* a very important client," the woman stated flatly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "So, roll out the red carpet. If you don't, I won't budge an inch. This is a matter of principle, and frankly, I'm not used to being kept waiting." She pressed a button on the armrest, and the limousine's window rolled up again, sealing her off from further discussion.

  "Roll it," Johnson instructed, his voice tight with frustration and a hint of desperation.

  "Pardon?" Kevin stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  "Just roll it," Johnson hissed, his patience wearing thin. "I don't care if it's a carpet, a rug, a tattered old rag, or a piece of red fabric from the janitor's closet. Just roll out *something* red. We need her to move, or we'll be in serious trouble with head office. Do you understand me?"

  The security guards, now in a state of near panic, scrambled to find something, anything, that was red and remotely resembled a carpet. They located a slightly faded, somewhat worn, red runner that was usually used for special events, tucked away in a storage room. It wasn't exactly a plush red carpet fit for royalty, but it would have to do. They quickly unrolled it, stretching it from the limousine to the company's entrance, hoping it would appease the demanding woman.

  The limousine's door opened with a soft click, and the woman stepped out, her movements regal and deliberate. She moved with an air of effortless grace, as if she were accustomed to having red carpets rolled out for her wherever she went. She paused for a moment, surveying the scene with a critical eye, then turned to the security guard she'd spoken to earlier, the one who had dared to question her demands. "Hold my phone," she instructed, extending her hand. "I want you to record me walking from a distance. Make sure you capture my full entrance; I want it to be dramatic."

  "Seriously?" Kevin groaned inwardly. "First a red carpet, now you want me to record you like some kind of celebrity? What's next? A personal photographer? A live orchestra?" He muttered under his breath, "Only God knows what she'll ask for next."

  "Just do as she says," Johnson snapped, his voice sharp. He snatched the phone from Kevin's reluctant hand. "Record," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Kevin, defeated, reluctantly pressed the record button. The woman, oblivious to his inner turmoil, turned to face the gathered employees and security personnel, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. "Hello, everybody," she said, her voice clear and strong, projecting confidence and authority.

  **The Reception, W.E.L. Int.**

  "I just wish something interesting would happen around here," Anna sighed dramatically, turning to Danny, who was still diligently working at his computer.

  "What kind of drama are you expecting in our boring old company?" Danny replied, not bothering to look up. "A corporate espionage plot? A sudden alien invasion? Get real, Anna."

  "Jeez! You're so annoying," Anna complained, rolling her eyes.

  "No, I'm not," Danny retorted, finally looking up from his work. "I'm just a realist. You need to lower your expectations. This is W.E.L. Int., not a soap opera."

  "Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack," Anna mimicked, tapping her fingernails impatiently on the reception desk.

  "What's that?" Danny asked, his brow furrowed.

  "Never mind," Anna said dismissively. "You wouldn't understand."

  Just then, a commotion at the entrance caught their attention. A woman, surrounded by a phalanx of security guards, strode purposefully toward the reception area. Danny and Anna exchanged a knowing look. "Looks like we've got an ultra-mega terrible client," Anna whispered, her eyes widening.

  Danny, ever prepared for such an eventuality, discreetly pressed a hidden button under the desk. *Code Red: VIP client approaching. Proceed with extreme caution.* Throughout the company, a silent alarm went off, alerting employees to the presence of a high-profile, potentially difficult visitor. Employees discreetly retreated to their offices, seeking refuge from the impending storm, while others, driven by curiosity, hurried to the surveillance room to get a glimpse of the unexpected arrival.

  The woman, radiating an aura of power and self-assurance, approached the reception desk. "Welcome," Anna said, forcing a polite smile. "May I help you? Do you have an appointment?"

  The woman, ignoring Anna's question, pulled out a small, ornate mirror from her designer handbag and began meticulously examining her reflection. Anna exchanged a bewildered glance with Danny. She leaned toward him and whispered, "She looks so young, and why is she behaving like this? Ugh! She's not even that beauti–"

  "I can hear you perfectly well," the woman interrupted, not bothering to look up from her mirror. "And FYI, your face looks rather... amusing. It's quite entertaining. P.S. You might want to consider investing in some good skincare products. Those wrinkles are rather... noticeable."

  Anna's hand flew to her face instinctively. She glanced at herself in her own compact mirror, then forced a smile, trying to regain her composure. "Oh, it's not what you think," she stammered, feeling flustered. "And, by the way, what's your name, and who do you have an appointment with?"

 "My name is W.E.L.'s," the woman replied, her tone crisp and dismissive.

  Anna frowned. "Yes, yes, we know. This is W.E.L. Could you please tell me your *name*?"

  "Heiress," the woman stated simply.

  Anna began typing on her keyboard, her fingers pausing mid-sentence. "H-e-i-r-e-s-s... That's a rather unusual name," she muttered, her brow furrowed.

  Danny, his eyes widening in realization, leaned over and pointed at the computer screen. "Read it, Anna," he whispered urgently.

  Anna, still confused, read the name aloud, then gasped, her eyes mirroring Danny's shock.

  The woman, finally satisfied with her reflection, turned to face the employees gathered in the reception area. "That's right," she said, her voice clear and strong, projecting authority and confidence. "I'm W.E.L.'s heiress, Nikki Ella Wellington."

  A wave of shocked whispers swept through the room. The name, once whispered in hushed tones, now echoed through the reception area, confirming the rumors that had been circulating for weeks. Nikki glanced at Anna, noticing her stunned expression. She could see the shock reflected on everyone's faces. She had an appointment with the Board of Directors. With a final, enigmatic look around the room, she turned and walked purposefully towards the elevators, leaving the reception area in a state of stunned silence.

  **Board of Directors Meeting, W.E.L. Int.**

  The members of the Board of Directors, still embroiled in their heated discussion about the vacant chairmanship, were suddenly interrupted. The doors of the boardroom opened with a quiet whoosh, and a woman walked in, her presence immediately commanding attention. She moved with an air of effortless confidence, her gaze sweeping across the room, taking in each member of the board. Without hesitation, she walked directly to the head of the table and sat down in the Chairman's seat, the very seat that the Vice Chairman, Mr. Rufus, had so publicly declined.

  A collective gasp filled the room. The board members were stunned, their faces a mixture of shock, disbelief, and outrage.

  Mr. Alex, a particularly vocal member of the board, stood up, his face flushed with anger. "Hey! Young lady," he exclaimed, his voice rising. "How dare you walk into our meeting without permission? And who gave you the right to sit in the Chairman's seat, a seat that the Vice Chairman himself declined? Who are you, by the way?"

   The woman, completely unfazed by his outburst, looked at him and then at all the members of the board, her gaze steady and unwavering. She offered a small, polite smile. "Good morning, everybody," she said, her voice clear and composed. "I am W.E.L.'s heiress, Nikki Ella Wellington."

Dear readers, we've arrived at the end of Chapter one but don't worry this isn't the end. Join Nikki as she embarks on an adventure of a lifetime in her quest to find out the truth. Don't just stop here continue till the finale and don't forget to vote and comment, share your ideas on how the story can be developed and don't forget to add the story to your library to receive updates on new chapters with this I bid you good luck as we embark on an adventure of a lifetime.