At Nancy's Primary School…
"Tring… ring… cring… ring…"
The bell echoed through the corridor, releasing a tide of children bursting out of their classrooms. Backpacks bounced, laughter filled the air, and footsteps pounded the floor like a wild stampede.
Among the crowd, Nancy skipped joyfully with her friends—until she spotted a familiar figure near the school gate.
"Daddy!" she called, waving excitedly.
Thomas Oak looked up from his phone, his features softening.
"Hey, Nancy!" he greeted with a warm smile.
"You really came!" she squealed, running up to hug his arm.
"As promised, my dear."
"Yesss!" she beamed.
Fingers intertwined, father and daughter walked side by side under the golden afternoon sun, their shadows stretching long behind them.
Meanwhile…
Velvéra Corporation – Executive Meeting Room
"So, that concludes my presentation," said Mr. Vionnet, lowering the remote as the final slide faded.
I sat among the board members, silently taking notes.
Incredible…
His design approach—fluid, modern, risk-taking. He wasn't just a designer; he was an artist.
The others too—eccentric but brilliant.
But before I could admire further—
"Do you call that a presentation, Mr. Vionnet?"
David Charlotte's voice sliced through the air like a scalpel—cold, sharp, and lethal.
All eyes snapped to him.
"Unexpected. Especially from you," he added, disdain dripping from every word.
"Sir, this silhouette is actually one of our top conceptual designs—"
"Top?" he scoffed. "What a painfully mediocre mindset."
"S-sorry, sir…"
"This meeting is over. Next time, bring something worthy of the name Velvéra."
He turned to the rest of the room.
"That goes for all of you."
"Yes, sir!" the team responded in chorus, rising to leave.
I followed him out, my face expressionless.
He's harsh… but maybe that's why this company stays on top.
Still, I couldn't help but think of my biological father—before his sudden death in that car crash.
Why had he handed over the company to David Charlotte instead of Romeo, my sweet, quiet stepbrother?
Rumors had once circulated—about a cyberattack on Velvéra, just before Dad's death. A Black Vane insider was suspected. But strangely, not a single byte of data was ever leaked. The recovery had been flawless.
David got the credit.
But I never believed the official story.
Inside David's Office…
"Have you confirmed the appointment I mentioned?" he asked, reclining behind his desk.
"Yes, sir. It's scheduled," I replied crisply.
A knock interrupted us.
"May I come in, sir?" came a voice from outside.
"Enter."
A staffer stepped in, nervously holding a notepad.
"Sir, the team was thinking… perhaps we could host a welcome party for Secretary Caroline?"
David didn't look up.
"Ask her. I don't care."
The staffer turned to me, eyes practically begging.
I resisted the urge to roll mine.
"Fine," I said. "But not today. Make it tomorrow."
His face lit up like a puppy getting a treat.
"Thank you!"
"Dismissed," David said.
"Yes, sir!" He rushed out like he'd won the lottery.
David stood and turned toward the window, the city lights beginning to glow in the dusk.
"It's evening. You may leave for the day, Ms. Garnier."
"Thank you, sir."
I nodded and exited, glad to finally escape his presence.
Back at Home…
The first thing I noticed was the mess.
Large cardboard boxes were stacked near the entrance. Movers were pacing in and out, hauling items into a waiting truck.
"Hey, Ariadne. You're back," Dad called from the hallway, clipboard in hand.
"Quick—go change your clothes. We're almost done."
I nodded, but something didn't feel right.
When I entered my room… my breath caught.
Empty.
Furniture gone. Walls bare. Even the rug I hated was missing. My closet? Stripped clean.
"Where are my clothes?!" I muttered, kicking open a nearby box.
Inside—half-folded shirts and sealed plastic packets.
Seriously?
Half-undressed, I stood in the middle of the barren room, hair tangled, shirt unbuttoned.
"You could've waited until I got home…" I grumbled.
This was classic Thomas Oak.
Always ten steps ahead.
Always five minutes too soon.