Viktor, my father, fixed me with a cold, piercing glare as he hurled the documents right at my face. Papers scattered across the polished marble floor like brittle autumn leaves.
He snarled, "What have you done, Emily? Have you forgotten what we stand for? We're a luxury empire—high fashion, Broadway spectacles, couture that shapes elite desire. Not some cheap stunt chasing normal people to push our brand!"
I bent down smoothly, my raven hair spilling over one shoulder as I gathered the crumpled sheets. My emerald eyes stayed steady, even though my eyes stinged with humiliation. "Father, you saw our shares jump after the interview and the Leonhart Everyday announcement—up 12% in just hours. The public loves it."
"That fiasco?" he snarled, his hawkish face twisting in disgust, silver hair catching the chandelier's sharp light. "You think a dirty stray cat rubbing your heels makes you a star? Investors are mocking us—or pulling their money. You've dragged our name through the mud!"
"It makes the brand real," I shot back calmly, rising with the papers clutched tight like a shield, my voice firm and cool. "Eco-lines for everyday people, right next to our high-end couture? It's smart growth, not ruin. And that cat moment? Pure viral magic—#EmilyCatMom trended across the globe."
"Enough!" Viktor slammed his fist on the mahogany desk. The bang echoed like a judge's gavel. His eyes turned to icy slits. "I'm done. I'm removing you as CEO. Right now."
Shock hit me hard, a sharp burn in my chest. My dreams—smart fabrics, runway breakthroughs—started to crack. "What? You can't mean that." My heart raced. Barista Emily's old napkin sketches, my dreams... all slipping away?
"Yes, I mean it," he spat, standing tall like a gathering storm, his perfect suit wrinkling with rage. "You're unfit. A reckless alpha only good for scandals and street cats. Someone like you should stay hidden, not sink Leonhart Fashion into the dirt!"
"You can't just do that," I said softly, my fists crushing the papers, pale skin heating with fire. "The board approves my plans. Shareholders see the vision."
"I can, and I am." His words cut like ice, a father's final command. "Go to your room. Stay there until I say. Your chamomile tea's coming up—drink it. It'll cool that wild temper."
"But Father—" My words faltered as his glare hardened, no mercy left.
"Just go," he snapped, already turning to his tablet, dismissing me like trash.
I met his eyes one last time, mine burning with quiet fire, then spun on my red-soled heels. The suite door clicked shut behind me, heavy as a cell lock.
Neon city lights mocked me through the tall windows. I sank onto the silk sheets, heart still pounding, staring at the scattered sketches—thermo-chrome dresses, simple everyday tees, now ruined.
Minutes later, a silent maid glided in with the chamomile tea on a silver tray, steam curling up soft and strange, carrying a faint herbal sweetness that clashed with the room's heavy tension.
I eyed it warily—too perfect, too insistent, like a subtle trap masked as care. Why chamomile tea?
My fingers hovered over the cup, but I pushed it aside untouched, suspicions prickling my skin like instincts on high alert. I think there was something wrong with this tea.
Grabbing my phone instead, I scrolled social media in a frenzy, heart sinking as Viktor's official post blazed across Leonhart Fashion's feed—
@LeonhartFashion Official:
"Effective immediately, Emily Leonhart is relieved as CEO. The proposed 'Leonhart Everyday' line is cancelled. Leonhart Fashion recommit to our heritage of unparalleled luxury excellence. We can't indulge in this as we are a luxury brand. #LeonhartForever."
Comments exploded beneath it—some cheering the "return to roots" with fire emojis, loyalists hailing Viktor's "decisive leadership," others mourning my "cat mom glow-up" with crying cats and pleas like "Bring back Emily's vision! #JusticeForEveryday."
[So, there will be no Leonhart Everyday now?]
[Oh, I was quite excited for it.]
[Now I don't think it's a publicity stunt. That interview was real, otherwise she wouldn't be removed from her position.]
[What will she do now?]
Yes, I had same question in my mind.
But no, my dreams wouldn't die here, crushed under his iron rule. I'd fight back smarter, fiercer.
If Leonhart Fashion wouldn't bend, I'd forge my own brand from the ashes—Leonhart Everyday reborn as my solo venture, "Emily's Edge." No more family chains holding me back. I don't need Viktor to make my dream come true. The old barista in me wouldn't want to go back to the kind of life which I desperately wanted to get over. This new life would change everything—no more same old me. If I don't do anything, my second life would be meaningless.
Smart fabrics that shift colours, eco-tees for everyday wear, runway shows that spark real change—all mine, built on my terms. There must be people like me, who can see my vision.
I'd find investors who saw the vision, people whose goals matched mine. They would fund me—I could feel it. And Emily's wealth? Sure, the original had vaults of cash stashed away, trust funds untouched by Viktor's grip.
Personal accounts, offshore stocks, even black-market fashion patents from her wilder days. Enough to seed a startup, hire a small team, rent a discreet studio downtown. No begging required if no one funds me.
As for my perfect male omega, who waited out there in the chaos—I will definitely find him and then claim him. Viktor could rage all he wanted—but I don't care.
The novel's plot has already derailed completely off its tracks. My predecessor wasn't removed from her position, which made it extremely difficult to free herself from her parents' grasp. But for me, this is quite easy now as I am not the CEO anymore. Honestly, it's a good thing. When the villainess was condemned by the whole world, her parents never helped her. Instead, they supported Alexei and his relentless efforts to send OG Emily to the jail.
"Viktor, I will show you what I can do. Then, you will know what you have done by removing me from the CEO's position."