RETURN OFA BADDIE🔥
945 Words
Bet. Chapter 1 coming in HOT 🔥
Here’s *Chapter 1: THE RETURN* for *SHE'S A BADDIE*
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The 47th floor of *WILLIAMS GLOBAL HOLDINGS* smelled like money, fear, and bad coffee.
Floor-to-ceiling windows looked over Manila. The rain hit the glass in sheets, blurring the neon lights of Makati into watercolor. It was 9:00 AM on a Monday, and the boardroom was packed.
Twenty-seven executives in navy suits. One long mahogany table. Zero loyalty.
“Let’s get this over with,” muttered VP of Finance, Marco Dela Cruz. He loosened his tie. “Five years is long enough to wait for a ghost.”
At the head of the table sat *Leo Williams*, 63. Silver hair, tailored barong tagalog under his blazer. The man who built WGH from a shipping company into a ₱300 billion empire. But his hands shook now. Parkinson’s. Everyone knew.
“Where’s Ethan?” Leo asked, voice thin.
“He’s in from London tonight, Papa,” said Sofia Reyes, Head of PR. She smiled too wide. “He’ll take over by Friday. We just need the board’s vote today.”
Ethan Williams. 29. Harvard MBA. Leo’s only son. And the man they all agreed should replace *her*.
“She abandoned us,” said HR Director Liza Tan. “Five years. No calls. No emails. Erica Williams left this company to rot the day she boarded that flight to Zurich.”
Heads nodded.
“She was too cold anyway,” said Marketing Head. “No heart. Fired 200 people in one email. That’s not leadership.”
“She was a tyrant,” someone whispered.
“She’s dead weight,” another added.
They were laughing now. Ganging up. Erasing her. Because Leo was sick, and Ethan was the safe choice. Because Erica Williams hadn’t set foot in Manila in five years, three months, and eleven days.
The board secretary stood. “All in favor of appointing Ethan Williams as CEO of Williams Global Holdings, effective immediately?”
Hands started to rise.
Ding.
The elevator at the end of the hall chimed.
Everyone froze.
The double mahogany doors to the boardroom were still closed. But through the glass, they saw the shadow. Tall. Straight. Moving slow.
Click. Click. Click.
Stilettos. On marble.
The doors didn’t open. They were _pushed_ open.
And there she was.
*Erica Williams.*
Black. Everything.
A black silk dress that hit just above the knee. Black blazer draped over one shoulder like a cape. Black heels, 4 inches, that made her 5’9 frame cut through the room like a blade. Her hair was down, sleek, past her waist. Red lips. No smile. Eyes like ice over fire.
Five years had not softened her. It had sharpened her.
The room went dead silent. Even the rain stopped sounding loud.
Marco’s hand fell from mid-air. Liza dropped her pen.
Leo’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Erica didn’t look at any of them. Not yet. She walked.
Steeze. Aura. Power.
Each step echoed. Click. Click. Click.
She walked past the entire board, past the people who had just voted to replace her, and stopped at the head of the table. Right beside her father.
She didn’t hug him.
She just placed one manicured hand on the back of his chair.
“Good morning,” she said. Her voice was low. Cold. The same voice that had fired 200 people with one email. “I hear you’re having a meeting about me.”
Sofia recovered first. “E-Erica? We thought you were in Zurich—”
“I was.” Erica finally looked up. Her eyes swept the room. One by one. She remembered every face. Every person who had whispered _she’s gone_ behind her back. “Zurich. Dubai. Singapore. I was busy buying the three companies that tried to take WGH last year while you were in this room talking about me.”
Gasp.
Leo reached for her hand. She let him take it. “Anak...”
“Hi, Papa,” she said, softer. Just for him. Then her face went cold again. She turned to the board.
“You were voting to give my company to my brother.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s not personal, Erica,” Marco stammered. “You’ve been gone five years. The company needs—”
“The company needs me.” She cut him off. “You need me. Because without me, WGH loses the Singapore port contract next month. Without me, the board in Tokyo pulls out. Without me, Ethan comes back and runs this place into the ground in six months because he’s never had to bleed for it.”
Ethan. In the doorway.
He had just arrived. Luggage in hand. He stopped when he saw her. His sister. The one who used to braid his hair when they were kids. The one who taught him how to read a P&L at 14. The one who left and never looked back.
“Erica,” he said.
She didn’t look at him.
“I’m not here to fight,” Erica said, finally sitting in her chair. The chair at the head of the table. Her chair. “I’m here to work. Meeting’s back on. Agenda item one: the hostile takeover attempt from Nakamura Corp. Agenda item two: why half of you are updating your LinkedIn.”
She pulled out a tablet. Black.
“And agenda item three,” she added, looking up with that dangerous smirk, “is reminding all of you why they call me a baddie.”
Outside, the rain hit harder.
Inside, 27 executives realized the ghost had come back to haunt them.
And she was wearing heels.
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- Writer
