CHAPTER FIVE
1423 Words
Oh my God. I looked at him, praying he wouldn’t recognize me as I tried to hide my face.
We sat at the vacant seat, one he didn’t even invite us to sit on.
My boss stretched out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, CEO of WILK. I never knew the CEO was such a young man.”
“Thank you for meeting with us today,” my boss continued, his smile and hand still hanging awkwardly in the air.
“Go ahead,” the man said nonchalantly, completely ignoring my boss.
My boss cleared his throat and motioned for me to begin. I was pissed. What did this man think of himself? But I forced myself to stay calm, reminding myself that we had an important meeting.
Did he not remember me? I wondered.
My boss signaled me again. “Go ahead, Cherry.”
I brought out my laptop, my hands shaking slightly. Please, God, I prayed silently, don’t let him remember me.
“I want to say thank you for partnering with us,” I began, keeping my eyes down, trying to avoid his piercing stare. He didn’t reply.
My boss gave me another subtle signal to continue. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice.
“This is my proposal,” I said, bringing out my laptop.
“Use the projector,” he said coldly, cutting me off.
I walked toward the projector, my legs trembling. I closed my eyes for a second to compose myself before I started.
“As you know, our company produces handmade perfumes that people love. Last year, we won an award for best marketing performance. Our perfumes are...”
“Get straight to the point,” he interrupted again, his voice sharp.
I looked up at him, his expression full of irritation. I swallowed hard but kept my composure. The new me refused to be intimidated.
“Okay,” I said, forcing confidence into my tone. “Our company will create the perfume, while WILK handles the production and distribution globally.”
“And what’s in it for my company?” he asked flatly.
“Profit will be shared. WILK gets sixty percent, and our company forty.”
“Your projections show a forty percent increase in profit,” he said coldly. “How do you plan to achieve that without cutting labor costs?”
I swallowed again, forcing a calm smile. “By improving production efficiency and reducing delays. We’ve already implemented a new system to handle that.”
He leaned back, studying me. “And why do you think your company deserves this partnership?”
The atmosphere grew tense. It felt like a battlefield, each word another shot fired.
I was a little confused. I glanced at my boss, who signaled for me to go ahead.
“Our company would be a great addition to yours,” I said confidently. “We may be small, but our creativity and dedication make us stand out.”
“You’re so arrogant,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. “Why do you behave like you know it all? Overconfidence kills.”
What the f**k? You asked a question, and I answered, I thought bitterly.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, trying not to lose my composure. I couldn’t afford to lose this deal.
He turned to my boss. “And why did your company send lagging, unintelligent employees to represent you? Don’t you have anyone smarter?”
My boss froze, shocked. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered.
I felt my stomach twist. Lagging? Unintelligent? My boss saying “sorry” meant he agreed with him. The disappointment burned inside me.
“Well,” the CEO continued, “it seems your employee also has a disrespectful attitude and a lack of manners.”
“Sorry, sir,” my boss said again, glancing at me to stay calm.
I clenched my fists under the table, struggling to hold it in. Then he said the worst thing possible.
“Do you think dressing seductively with your unattractive body will help you win partnerships?”
That was it. My self-confidence that I had been building—did he want to destroy it? No way. I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“With all due respect, sir,” I said firmly, looking straight at his face, “you have no right to body-shame anyone.”
My boss tried to stop me, signaling frantically for me to sit down, but I ignored him. This jerk clearly remembered what happened this morning.
I took a deep breath, my voice trembling but cold. “You lack manners, the same manners that made you harass me this morning.”
“Cherry!” my boss shouted, panic flashing across his face.
The CEO’s expression shifted slightly, taken aback but still composed.
“Well,” he said at last, turning to my boss, his tone colder, “I’m not used to people talking to me like that. And I don’t appreciate such undisciplined behavior. Since your employee is rude and uncultured, I can’t work with her.”
I scoffed quietly. Uncultured? Look who’s talking.
“Nevertheless,” he added with a cruel smirk, “I’ll approve the partnership on one condition. You fire your P.A.”
He looked at my boss. “You’re free to choose between the partnership and your rude employee.”
My boss’s eyes widened. I could see the shock on his face.
Geez, I wasn’t expecting him to make such a decision. I froze, my heart pounding.
What the hell?
I looked at my boss, who was avoiding my gaze. I hope it’s not what I’m thinking.
“You’re fired,” he said coldly, not even daring to look at me.
“What?” My voice cracked in disbelief. “After everything I’ve done for this company?” I turned to my boss, searching his face for any sign of remorse, but there was none.
Then my eyes shifted to the CEO of Wilks. Anger and hatred boiled within me.
“You’re a devil,” I spat, fighting back tears. I heard him laugh as I turned and walked away, knowing fully well that this job meant everything to me.
---
A few weeks later, I tried applying for a job, but once they saw my name, they immediately turned me down.
After several rejections, I decided to ask the manager of one of the companies I applied to. “I’m qualified, aren’t I?” I asked, hoping he would be honest.
He sighed deeply. “You’re more than qualified,” he said. “But you’ve been blacklisted.”
My heart skipped. “By whom?”
He hesitated. “Kris Kels, the CEO of Wilks.”
The name hit me hard. I remembered the waitress at the café saying that name. So he is Kris Kuls, still the CEO of Wilks Company.
My eyes widened in shock. How can someone be so wicked? I thought. But I won’t beg him.
When I got home, I pushed the door open and froze. My adoptive mother was lying on the floor.
I quickly rushed her to the hospital. But when I wrote my name at the reception, the receptionist’s expression changed.
“We don’t treat anyone with the name Cherry Williams,” she said coldly.
Immediately, I knew it had to be Kris.
“Why?” I demanded, panic rising in my voice.
They refused to answer, but when they saw my mother’s condition worsen, they finally allowed her in after receiving an order from Kris. Yet, they made one condition. I wouldn’t be allowed to see her, even after the treatment.
Tears burned my eyes. What choice do I have? I thought. If I don’t do something, I might lose her.
I ran outside, hailed a cab, and went straight to his company. Fortunately, as I arrived, he was coming out, surrounded by his bodyguards.
I rushed toward him and fell to my knees, swallowing my pride. “Please,” I begged, “I’m sorry. I can’t bear to live without my mother.”
He looke
d down at me coldly.
“I thought you were all mighty,” he said. “Well, I don’t need your apology. Instead, I have an offer for you.”
I looked up, trembling.
“Marry me,” he said, his voice low
and firm, “or you won’t see your mother after the treatment.”
My eyes widened in disbelief. “Marriage?” I whispered, unable to process his words.
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