Mr. Liam stepped out of Conrad's cabin, his face still carrying that shadow of formality, and strode straight towards the open workspace.
"Meeting. Now," he announced in his clipped, no-nonsense tone."all core members of Design Team A and Team B are to gather in the main conference room immediately. The CEO wants a full presentation on the new wedding collection."
The effect was immediate. Chairs scraped, files were snatched up, and people hurried down the corridor as if the floor beneath them had turned molten. Within minutes, the conference room was filling up—papers shuffled, pens clicked nervously, and the occasional whispered speculation slipped between lips.
A long mahogany table dominated the center of the room, the CEO's chair looming at its head like a silent throne. On the right side, five people were already seated, trying to compose themselves. On the left, only three chairs were occupied—and their owners looked visibly tense, exchanging worried glances as they fiddled with their documents. One of them kept tapping on his phone, thumbs flying as he sent rapid messages to someone.
The door opened.
Conrad walked in.
The shift in the room was instant—like someone had cracked open a window in winter. The air turned cooler, heavier. His expression was the same as always: cold, unreadable, with a sharpness that could cut straight through bone.
Without needing to be told, every person in the room shot to their feet. Conrad took the central seat with an unhurried confidence that screamed authority, while Mr. Liam settled in just beside him. Only when he was seated did the others dare to follow.
The three designers on the left side stiffened under his gaze, their anxiety practically seeping into the air.
Conrad's voice broke the silence, low and edged like steel.
"Where is Miss Alice? And Miss Emaa?"
A deliberate pause followed, the kind that made people's skin prickle. Then, with a hint of mock ignorance, he added,
"Didn't anyone inform miss Alice?"
One of the designers—clearly from Alice's team—scrambled for words. Her voice trembled."S–She's on the way, sir."
Conrad's brows drew together in a perfect imitation of disbelief, his tone dripping with a performance worthy of an Oscar.
"What do you mean, she's on the way, Mr. Leo? She's still not in the office?" He leaned back slightly, his voice twisting into a slow, mocking drawl. "Wow."
The single word hung in the air, sharp as a knife.
Across the table, the designers from Team B exchanged fleeting, smug glances, as if silently congratulating themselves on a victory they hadn't yet earned. On the other side, Team A sat stiff and subdued, eyes downcast. One of the three—Lily—leaned closer to Mr. Leo, whispering under her breath."Did you message her or not? When's Miss Alice coming?"
Mr. Leo shook his head, his expression caught between frustration and helplessness.
"I don't know, Lily. She's not even checking my messages."
Meanwhile—several floors below—Alice and Emaa pushed through the glass doors of the building, moving with the urgency of people who knew they were already cutting it close. Even in their rush, they offered quick nods and polite smiles to the receptionist and a few colleagues they passed, keeping it professional. Their heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as they made a beeline for the elevators, tension written in every step.
By the time they reached their floor, slightly breathless, they were met by an anxious-looking intern from their own team. She stood up so quickly her chair almost tipped over.
"Miss Alice… you're only just arriving? Everyone's already in the meeting room. With the boss."
Her voice was hushed, laced with worry rather than blame—because she knew exactly what it meant to walk in late to one of Conrad Adelson's meetings.
Both Alice and Emaa froze for half a second, their eyes widening in perfect synchrony.
Emaa's voice was a startled whisper. "Meeting? For what?"
Alice turned to her, smacking the back of her head—not too hard, but enough to make her point.
"Of course for the new wedding collection, stupid."
And without another word, they took off again, rushing towards the meeting room like soldiers running into a battlefield—only this war involved couture, contracts, and a CEO whose patience was already a thread away from snapping.
They made their way to the meeting room at a near-jog, neither speaking, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. Outside the door, both paused for a beat—straightening their dresses, smoothing their hair, exchanging a silent nod. Deep breath in. Time to face the storm.
A firm knock.
Alice stepped in first, Emaa a step behind. Both offered Conrad a professional smile that didn't quite disguise the tension in their expressions.
Emaa slid quickly into her chair, but Alice barely made it halfway to hers when Conrad's voice cut through the room, cold and precise.
"I don't believe your presence is required here, Miss Alice." His tone was calm, almost polite, but there was an edge that made every head in the room turn. "From where I'm sitting, your attitude doesn't reflect the level of commitment this project demands. If you're not fully invested, I don't see the point in reviewing your team's proposal."
His gaze shifted deliberately toward the opposite side of the table.
"Perhaps it would be more efficient to proceed with Team B's presentation. Team A, you may leave."
The words landed like a gavel. Chairs shifted. Eyes widened. Team A sat frozen, the unspoken humiliation thick in the air.
Alice's pulse spiked. "No, sir—please," she said quickly, stepping forward. Her voice was still professional, but urgency bled through. "This project is critical to us. We've put in substantial work, and I take full responsibility for my delay. I was finalizing details late into the night, so—"
"So?" Conrad's interruption was quiet but razor-sharp. He leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. "We're now excusing missed commitments, Miss Alice?"
Alice's voice came out quick, almost tripping over itself.
"No—no, sir, I'm just trying to—" She stopped, drew in a slow breath, then forced her tone into something steadier. "I'm sorry, sir. I promise this will not happen again. Please… give us a chance. We've really worked hard on this."
Conrad's eyes stayed locked on her, unreadable. Inside, however, he felt the slow curl of satisfaction. Seeing her standing there, swallowing her pride to apologize—it was exactly the reaction he'd been aiming for.
"Alright," he said at last, his voice measured. "But I hope this will not happen again, Miss Alice."