between chess moves

chapter 2

I might not fit the beauty standards, but I knew I was at least pleasing to the eyes. Scratch that—I was confident in my looks. So why had I just been sidelined by a man like I was a piece of garbage?

This wasn’t about pride. Confidence is admirable—especially in a world full of people lacking it. But I’d admit it: my ego took a hit, even if just a little.

The fact that it was male attention—something I rarely cared for—made it worse.

The thought gnawed at me as I strolled to my car where my chauffeur waited. I told myself it didn’t matter, but the bitter taste of dismissal clung to me. It wasn’t just about the phone—it was about the way he looked right through me, as if I wasn’t even worth acknowledging. My confidence wavered, just for a second, before I shoved the feeling aside.

I casually approached my car. It wasn’t so formal that my chauffeur had to open the door for me; I had made it clear that such formalities weren’t necessary. They made me uncomfortable. I would have driven myself, but I hated driving. I preferred enjoying the view as I was moved around.

Still, my mind replayed what had happened.

The man hadn’t even bothered to pick up my phone. I knew I was at fault, but that was the gentlemanly thing to do. Instead, the man behind him—who I presumed was his assistant—had been the one to pick up my cracked cell, apologizing fervently like he had committed a crime.

Another terrible man roaming the streets, I thought with a sigh.

On reaching my vehicle, I opened the rear door and got in, leaving the events of the morning behind me. It wasn’t worth a thought.

"Where to, ma'am?" John—my chauffeur—asked.

"HQ," I replied flatly. The irritation from earlier still lingered, dull but persistent.

I took a deep breath to calm myself as the car pulled away. I had a meeting in a few minutes, 30 to be exact and couldn't afford any emotional distress.

The city blurred past the car window, a mix of towering buildings and people moving in chaotic harmony. I should have been reviewing my notes for the meeting, but my mind wandered.

I wasn’t particularly bothered about being late. It wasn’t like they could start without me. Yet, something about today’s meeting felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was the discussion on technology, a shift I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for. Or maybe it was just one of those days.

We were to discuss ways to increase sales, which I was certain they'd suggest—the integration of technology by introducing online stores, online delivery services, and more. These were in high demand. If they didn’t suggest it, I probably would.

Though I wasn’t really a technology person, I believed in in-store shopping—the feel and smell of new clothes as you walked through stalls, the excitement of finding the perfect dress, trying on different outfits until you found the one that fit best, and the interaction with service providers. That feeling of satisfaction, of thrill that came not from fear, was what I loved the most about buying clothes.

But it didn’t matter anymore. The world was evolving quickly, and we had to adapt. Embracing technology would also give us a global presence in some way.

The car came to a stop, jarring me out of my thoughts. I checked my watch. Exactly 12:30, as predicted.

I made my way into the building, heading straight for the boardroom. This was the part of my work I enjoyed the least—sitting for hours, listening to ideas and arguments. Then finally making a decision.

I wished they could email these to me so I could go over them in my own privacy, but the kind of person I was demanded I look every man in the eye to feel the emotions behind his ideas—contradicting my first thought entirely.

My assistant greeted me as I entered the building, updating me on my schedule for the day. Nothing I didn’t already have in mind.

I opened the boardroom door. As always, all members were already assembled, waiting for my arrival.

I walked in, my head held high, shoes clicking on the polished floor as I made my way to the head seat.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I’d like to call this meeting to order. Thank you all for being here. Let’s get started," I said, keeping it formal as usual.

I signaled to the secretary to carry out the normal proceedings.

I didn’t bother butting in where I was expected to. I preferred to keep my mouth shut as much as possible and listen keenly. By now, everyone was already aware of this, so they didn’t object.

"We all have the agenda for today's meeting. Are there any adjustments?" I spoke up once the secretary was done.

"Our last quarter's sales were up by 15%, largely due to the demand for our corporate line. However, evening wear sales dropped by 8%. We need to decide if we should push more marketing in that category," the financial manager said.

"By evening wear, you mean that rigorously patterned dress that was released? I knew it was too sophisticated for the market, but I opted to give it a try due to the persuasion of the head fashion designer. ‘It’s pure art,’ in her words," a board member interrupted.

A third of the board chuckled.

I held back a sigh. Art or not, it had flopped, and I had let myself be talked into it. A mistake I wasn’t eager to repeat.

"It just needs new and better designs," the board member added.

"I believe it is still necessary to consider more marketing, bad design or not," the financial manager said firmly.

I leaned back in my chair, watching them go back and forth. These debates always fascinated me—how quickly they fought for their opinions, how easily they overlooked past failures in favor of new risks. I wasn’t against risks, but I preferred calculated ones.

They all turned to me for my final verdict on the matter.

"It won’t hurt to further explore marketing in the evening wear category, but I agree with Mr. Zic—the last design was truly awful," I began, pausing momentarily to maintain my composure. "Since we're on the topic of marketing, I think it's time we discuss the launch of our online store and delivery services. E-commerce is the future, and we can’t ignore it."

I saw hesitation flicker across the creative director’s face before he spoke.

"I thought the exclusivity of our brand was tied to the traditional mode of shopping. Why change it now?"

That was the logical argument, but a part of me still resisted.

The weight of a silk dress against fingertips, the scent of freshly unpacked fabric, the rush of trying on an outfit that transforms you—that was what shopping meant to me. Not a screen. Not a soulless cart checkout.

But logic won over sentiment.

"Though my dream was for customers to have a healthy interaction with their clothes before purchasing them, another of my dreams is to make this brand worldwide," I stated. "Technology offers this in the easiest and most cost-effective way. Besides, as I said, E-commerce is the future—we can’t and won’t ignore it."

Other board members nodded in agreement.

"If that’s the case, we should ensure that the online experience reflects our brand’s exclusivity—maybe a virtual styling assistant on the site?" the creative director suggested.

"I think we should start small—introduce the online store to the market first and observe how it performs. Going full-blown at once in a field that is yet to be explored is not cost-effective," the financial manager said.

"I agree with him," I said, locking eyes with him.

"Let’s not forget that we would also need a strong digital marketing strategy. Paid ads, influencer collaborations, and targeted promotions will be key for both the online store, delivery services, and any new clothing line we introduce," the marketing head added.

"We’ll leave it to you to get that done," I said to her. "And Mr. Richard, do you think we have enough capital to carry out this project properly?" I asked the financial manager.

"With sales up by 15%, I believe we could, though I’d need to do some research and draw up an estimate," he replied.

"Do that and get back to me," I stated. "Any other matters that need to be addressed today?" I asked letting my gaze run through each face.

"I believe it's high time we launched another fashion line. We have no designs under the gym wear category," the head designer, who had been mostly quiet, spoke up ensuring to keep her head high.

"We should work on improving the evening wear collection first. And with the project at hand—which I believe is more pressing than launching gym wear—I don’t think it’s wise to add more to our plate. However, I’d advise you to get your designers to start working on the designs so that we’re ready when the time comes."

"Alright," she answered, seemingly satisfied.

"Are there any more suggestions or objections?" I asked, pausing for a few moments to give them time to think.

"In the absence of any further questions, the meeting is adjourned. Thank you all for your input. Our next meeting will be in a few weeks."

As I walked out, my heels clicking against the marble floor, a strange mix of satisfaction and unease settled over me.

We had made progress—on paper. But progress always came with a price.

I had built this brand on experience, on the belief that fashion was meant to be touched, felt, lived. Now, I was steering it toward a digital world I wasn’t sure I belonged in.

But belonging didn’t matter. What mattered was survival.

And if that meant embracing change, then so be it.

I reached my office, located at the highest point of the building, and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The board meeting was out of the way, but that was just the beginning.

There were quarterly reports to examine—comparing them to previous ones to track our progress. Then came the mountain of paperwork, which required my full attention to ensure precision. And now that we had agreed on going digital, I needed to research what that truly meant for our brand. How to bring it to life. How to integrate it seamlessly without compromising the exclusivity we were known for.

It wasn’t necessarily my job to handle the research, but I still needed in-depth knowledge of it. I refused to be the kind of CEO who nodded along blindly while others made decisions for my company.

People liked to assume that multimillion-dollar business owners had it easy—that we simply sat back while others did the work. But they had no idea. If anything, we had less rest than most.

And as if I didn’t have enough on my plate, the season of galas and evening dinners was fast approaching. Another round of perfectly curated events filled with high society figures, each one trained in the art of judgment behind polite smiles. It was exhausting.

Don’t get me wrong—I loved fashion. But mingling with people who only spoke in veiled criticisms and backhanded compliments? That, I could do without.

The only real thrill came from wearing something exquisite—a masterpiece tailored to perfection—and witnessing the breathtaking designs others would unveil.

Speaking of which…

I needed to host a fashion show.

It had been years. Too many, in fact. If I didn’t put one together soon, I risked becoming old talk—a name once relevant but now fading into the background.

Ugh.

I pushed the thought aside and dug into the paperwork just as my assistant dropped them off. My eyes scanned every line, double-checking for mistakes, ensuring that everything was in order.

A single slip-up could set us back years—and I couldn’t afford that. Not now. Not when this shift toward technology might just bring another breakthrough.