Episode 4
1085 Words
Rhysand's POV
My jaws tightened as Bridgette walked away, reveling in the compliment of the presentation that she had just done.
"Mr. Rhysand," My secretary called, turning to me with her head still bowed down.
"What is the matter?" I asked, glaring at her.
I came to tell you that the meeting you've scheduled with your father is in 15 minutes, the car is ready, and..."
"You're fired," I coldly cut her words short.
"S—sir?" She said, her lips trembling at my words.
"You heard me clearly, you are fired," I repeated, walking away to the elevator.
"I'm really sorry Mr Rhys but..."
"Rhysand," I corrected.
"Yes Mr Rhysand, but you cannot fire me, I need this job," She said, walking after me.
"Is that supposed to be a request or an order?" I said, turning back to her already pale face.
"It—it is not what you think it is, I'm just saying I'm the only daughter of my mother, and we...I just need this job, Mr. Rhys..."
"Rhysand!" I yelled, shaking her to her core.
"And I suggest that you leave as I demand or I'll make sure you never get a job in the corporate world again," I said, clicking the buttons to the elevator.
"Why, I mean I haven't made any mistakes except that I forgot to send the message to Miss Bridgette's team," she argued and I looked back at her.
My jaw tightened as her lips trembled, trying to make an excuse.
"There are no excuses that you can give woman, you made me face in front of the person I hate the most in this company because of one of your failures to carry out tasks assigned to you properly," I said, as the elevator door began closing in.
"It was a mistake Mr Rhysand, I promise I won't make any of that sort again," She said, pleading.
"I don't give second chances, I made sure it reflected well enough on your appointment letter, take your things and leave," I ordered and the door closed, cutting the space between us.
The elevator turned silent, save for the sounds of its wheels lowering and the anger in my chest refused to ease as the elevator descended, each passing floor fueling the storm in my head.
My secretary's pleading voice echoed in my mind, but I silenced it with a shake of my head. Weakness had no place in my world, and mistakes—no matter how small—were unacceptable.
The doors slid open, and I stepped out, my polished shoes clicking against the marble floors as I made my way to the car waiting outside.
The driver opened the door, and I slipped in, leaning back against the leather seat. The meeting with my father loomed ahead, God knows what he wanted to talk about that he seemed so serious over the phone.
"I need to tell you something Rhys," he said said, his voice ladened with something akin to happiness.
His voice had always been cold, lifeless, for as long as I could remember.
And I couldn't bear to reject it, despite how stressed I was.
I clicked my tongue, staring out at the city skyline as the car pulled into traffic. My father’s empire was vast, but I had carved my own path, and built my own success.
And then there was Bridgette.
The thought of her name alone ignited a mix of frustration, anger and something else I couldn’t quite place. She was a thorn in my side, constantly challenging me, and defying me at every turn.
She was the only f*****g person who had me on my toes, rejected and cornered my every word, board meetings? She had a question for every point I made.
Yet, there was no denying her brilliance, her ability to command a room with her presence and I hated the fact that she was the perfection I so much wanted from other people.
She didn’t fear me like others did.
No, she stared me down as though daring me to make her bend.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to push the thoughts aside. She was just an employee—a brilliant but infuriating employee who had managed to crawl under my skin.
The car slowed as we arrived at the building where my father was waiting. I stepped out, straightening my tie and squaring my shoulders.
When I stepped off the elevator, the grandeur of the empty hallway hit me. Polished floors, soft lighting, and the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee—it was just like my father to reserve an entire floor for one conversation.
“Rhysand,” he greeted, turning toward me with a warm, happy smile.
That took me aback, I'd never seen him that happy, not even when the company hit milestones.
“Father,” I replied, stepping inside.
The room was set perfectly. A table of refreshments sat untouched—water, coffee, even a tray of pastries that neither of us would eat. His attention to detail was both infuriating and admirable.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you long.”
I sat down, keeping my posture as composed as his. “What’s this about? The company?" I asked.
“No,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “This is personal.”
"I wanted you to be the first person to know about it,"
“Know what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“I’m getting married,” he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him.
“You’re… what?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.
“Married,” he repeated, his tone even. “I’ve met someone, and I’ve decided it’s time to take that step again.”
"Again," I muttered, my mind scrambling to process his words.
“To who?” I demanded, leaning forward in my chair. “When did this happen? And why now?”
He raised a hand, a silent gesture for me to calm down. “Her name is Margret, she's intelligent, kind, and someone I care deeply about. As for why now… Let’s just say life doesn’t wait for the perfect moment, Rhysand.”
"And you think of all the things that you need to do now, getting married is one of them?" I said bewildered.
- Writer
