After the intense boardroom meeting, word spread quickly: Emma had saved the company. Her strategic plan for launching their new beauty line was nothing short of brilliant. Whispers echoed through the office halls, speculating who might become the face of the brand. There was excitement, yes—but tension too. They had a campaign ready to roll out, but no model to represent it.
Outside, a young woman with a striking figure strolled into the building with confident strides and a flair that turned heads. Her presence was commanding—bold, flashy, and unmistakably intentional. Some employees murmured that the marketing team must've already found their brand ambassador. But not everyone was thrilled. It was clear to some that she'd had cosmetic enhancements, and a few felt uneasy, preferring a more natural look for the brand's public image—someone more relatable, someone real.
Lucy, unaware of the whispers trailing behind her, was feeling herself. Dressed to impress and hoping to catch Alexander's attention, she'd gone all out today. And from the way the office buzzed around her, she could tell she was making waves. Her confidence surged, hips swaying like she was on a runway.
When she reached Alex's office, she stepped inside, only to immediately falter at the thick tension in the air.
"What are you doing here?" Alexander asked coldly, barely glancing up from his work. "Didn't I make myself clear? You're not to enter my office unless I summon you."
Lucy scoffed. "Seriously, Alex? You think I wanted to come here? Your uncle sent a car for me and told me to shadow you today—to get a sense of what you actually do here. Don't worry, I'll stay out of your way. Just pretend I'm not even here," she said, plopping onto the couch like she owned it.
"Fine. Suit yourself," he muttered, clearly uninterested.
Moments later, the director of marketing entered, pausing when he spotted Lucy. His eyes lit up, and he gave Alexander a knowing smile.
"Mr. President," he said, "I see you've already found the perfect model for the campaign. That was faster than expected."
"She's not a model. She's a guest," Alexander replied flatly. "Find someone qualified. Just make sure the campaign works. I don't care who you choose—just don't fail me."
The director nodded hastily. "Of course. I misunderstood…" He trailed off as Lucy rose from the couch, twirling a strand of hair.
"Wait—model?" she said brightly. "Well, if you're looking for someone, I could help. I mean, I've got the looks, and I'm not exactly busy these days."
Alexander narrowed his eyes at her. "You do realize this is a multimillion-dollar campaign, right? It's not just about being pretty."
The marketing director cut in, trying to be diplomatic. "Actually, Mr. Allan, since our agency has a modeling department, I can run her through a basic evaluation. If Bertha signs off, we could move forward."
"Fine. Do whatever you need. But if this flops, your resignation lands on my desk," Alexander said curtly.
The two men left with Lucy practically skipping behind them, thrilled at the chance to live her modeling fantasy.
Minutes later, Emma stepped into Alexander's office after finishing up the meeting. She was drained, physically and mentally. That boardroom battle had taken everything out of her. As she began organizing her notes, she felt his eyes on her—watching, studying. The air between them buzzed with silent tension. Neither spoke. It was a standoff of glances and unspoken thoughts. Eventually, Emma broke the moment, focusing on her work while Alexander silently acknowledged her strength—if only for a moment.
Meanwhile, Mr. Anderson and Lucy arrived at Bertha's office. Bertha, stern and sharp-eyed, was busy analyzing portfolios when they entered.
"Mr. Anderson. What a surprise. What brings you here?" she greeted him politely.
"We're in a bind," he began. "You've probably heard about the new beauty line launch. We need a model urgently, but I hear your talent pool is fully booked?"
Bertha sighed. "Yes, I've spoken to their agents. None of them are free until after the company gala. It's bad timing."
"Well," he gestured toward Lucy. "This is Ms. Blossom. Maybe you can take a look? See if she might fit the part."
Bertha gave Lucy a once-over, her expression unreadable. "Very well. Leave her with me. I'll evaluate and report back."
"Thank you," Anderson said before leaving.
Bertha turned to Lucy. "Take the makeup kit from that cabinet and go into the second room on the left. The artist there will prep you."
Lucy did as told, excited beyond belief. The makeup artist worked diligently but found himself needing to apply heavy layers to balance out the surgical alterations on her face. When Lucy returned, Bertha studied her again, this time through the lens of a professional.
"Stand over there. I'll count to three. Then start posing. Smile."
Click. Click. Click.
Bertha's expression grew colder with every shot. The more photos she took, the more certain she became—Lucy wouldn't work. Her features were too fixed, too artificial. The beauty line focused on authenticity and versatility, and Lucy simply couldn't deliver.
Leaving Lucy to rest, Bertha marched straight to the President's office.
"Bertha," Alex said, noting her expression. "I assume the director already brought someone to you. Why are you here instead of working with her?"
"I'm sorry, sir. But we have a serious problem."
"Go on."
"That woman won't work. Her look isn't adaptable—especially for a natural beauty campaign. She's too… enhanced."
Alex ran a hand down his face. "And our other models?"
"Booked solid," she confirmed.
At that moment, Emma entered again. "Sir, the restaurant reservation has been confirmed," she said.
Bertha turned and really looked at her—really saw her for the first time.
"Who is this?" she asked, intrigued.
"My new secretary," Alex replied.
Bertha's eyes lit up. "Ms. Stone, would you mind standing up, letting your hair down, and giving me a little twirl? And smile, please."
Emma blinked, confused, but did as asked.
Bertha's mouth parted in awe. "You'll do."
Alex raised a brow. "What are you saying?"
"I've found our model," Bertha said decisively. "Emma is perfect. That dress is hiding a whole brand ambassador. With just a bit of styling, she'll shine—and she's natural, relatable. Trust me."
Emma blinked again. "Wait—me? A model?"
"My dear," Bertha said with a wide smile, "will you be the face of our brand?"