Margaret stood in front of her son, her mind racing with what-ifs and how the hell this mess was going to be fixed. She could not bear to lose her good reputation; her friends would soon be talking about it, and it would be all over the news. The thought made her shudder.
"Just fix it, Leon. This mess is not something that I will take lightly. Get it sorted now." She demanded, glaring at Leon while trying to contain her breathing. Her reflection stared back at her from Leon's monitor screen.
Leon did not reply at first; he didn't even look at his mother. He didn't need to. He sat down in his chair again, straightened his spine and rested his elbows firmly on his desk.
"Leon, are you listening to me? I am your mother, and I demand this gets sorted and quickly, or so help me god." Margare
