Chapter 3: War of Wits
817 Words
Chapter 3: War of Wits
Ivy Dawson had fought many battles in the corporate world—battles against malfunctioning printers, psychotic deadlines, and the dreaded "reply all" email disasters. But none compared to the daily war she waged against Adrian Blackwood.
As she stepped into his office, she braced herself. Today was going to be another battlefield, and she was ready for war.
Adrian sat at his massive mahogany desk, sleeves rolled up, sharp eyes scanning a report like a general analyzing war strategies. His dark suit, perfectly tailored, screamed intimidation. His presence alone commanded authority, but Ivy had long since built immunity.
She strolled in casually, holding a steaming cup. "Morning, sir," she said, emphasizing the title just to annoy him.
He glanced up. "Miss Dawson. Two things."
Ivy held up a finger, cutting him off. "Before you continue—would you like a cup of coffee? I made an extra-strong one just for you. No sugar, no milk… just like your personality."
Adrian exhaled sharply. "First, my coffee preferences are not up for discussion. Second, I received an email from the board this morning regarding the marketing proposal. It seems the attached document was…" He paused, his jaw tightening.
Ivy tilted her head innocently. "Was…?"
Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line. "A file containing memes of cats in business suits."
Silence.
Then Ivy burst into laughter. "Oh my God, that’s hilarious! You should’ve seen your face!"
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Miss Dawson."
She wiped away a fake tear. "But wait—did you at least check them out? Some of those cats probably have better business strategies than some of the board members."
His eyes darkened. "Fix it. Now."
Still grinning, Ivy nodded. "Fine, fine. But admit it, sir, you’re at least a little amused."
Adrian didn’t respond, but she caught the flicker of something—was that amusement?—in his expression before he returned to his usual unreadable mask.
A Game of Petty Revenge
After fixing the email debacle (which she still considered her best work to date), Ivy made it her mission to push Adrian’s buttons in small, annoying ways.
First, she slightly adjusted his chair height so it felt just a little off. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to make him uncomfortable.
Then, she changed his desktop wallpaper to an image of a grumpy owl in a suit—eerily resembling Adrian’s usual scowl.
The final touch? Replacing his signature black pens with ones that had glittery purple ink.
It took him approximately three hours to notice.
"Ivy," Adrian called out, voice deceptively calm.
She strolled in, feigning innocence. "Yes, sir?"
He held up the glittery pen. "Explain."
Ivy gasped dramatically. "Oh no! Has corporate sabotage finally reached our office? Who would do such a heinous thing?"
Adrian simply stared at her. "Do you have a death wish?"
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Well, you do look good in purple."
His fingers tapped against the desk. "Do you have any actual work to do, Miss Dawson?"
"Absolutely not."
Adrian sighed. "Remind me again why I haven’t fired you yet?"
Ivy leaned in slightly, smirking. "Because I’m irreplaceable, sir."
He didn't argue.
Adrian Strikes Back
The next day, Ivy came in to find her desk looking suspiciously different.
Her normally cluttered workspace was perfectly organized. Her rainbow sticky notes? Gone. Her tiny plush avocado keychain? Missing.
Her pink, ergonomically superior chair? Replaced with a cold, hard office chair from hell.
Ivy narrowed her eyes. "He. Did. Not."
Marching into Adrian’s office, she placed her hands on her hips. "Where is it?"
He barely looked up from his work. "Good morning to you too, Miss Dawson."
"Don’t play dumb, Blackwood. My chair. My beautiful chair. Where. Is. It?"
Adrian casually leaned back. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"You so do. Where. Is. It?"
He steepled his fingers. "Let’s call it… a test."
Ivy glared. "You stole my chair as revenge, didn’t you?"
He smirked. "Prove it."
Oh, it was war now.
The Final Blow
Ivy spent the next few days devising the perfect counterattack.
The moment presented itself when Adrian had a high-profile investor meeting. She saw him adjusting his tie, exuding his usual untouchable CEO aura. That’s when she struck.
Right before he left, she handed him a document folder. "Here’s the revised contract for Mr. Sterling."
Adrian took it without a second thought and walked into the meeting.
Ivy waited.
Three minutes later, a very unamused Adrian emerged, the folder in hand. "Miss Dawson."
"Yes, sir?" she said sweetly.
"This is a coloring book."
Ivy grinned. "Oh dear! How ever did that get in there?"
Adrian exhaled, his jaw tightening—but this time, there was something else in his eyes.
Respect.
And maybe, just maybe, the hint of a smirk.
The war wasn’t over.
But Ivy was winning.
- Writer
