[EDITING]
It's been four years since we broke up, since I last saw him.
I am no longer the person I used to be. I have gained a reputation as the most formidable businesswoman, feared by many, devoid of smiles, and often labeled as ruthless and arr...
If Someone is judging you. That's their problem. Don't make it yours.
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Relishing the comfort of the plush back seat in my Jaguar XJ50, I settled in as my assistant took the wheel, skillfully navigating us towards the destination of the fundraiser.
Lost in contemplation, I kept my gaze fixed on the towering buildings and the bustling traffic outside the car window. Meanwhile, Amos engaged in a conversation with my secretary through his headset. After a brief pause, he redirected his attention towards me and relayed the message, saying, "Ms. Scott, Mr. Lewis Scott will also be in attendance."
Fuck.
"Alright, monitor his activities closely, but ensure that you refrain from engaging in any discussions with him," I directed Amos, clearly outlining my instructions.
"Yes ma'am."
Lewis Scott, my paternal cousin, has set his sights on my position. Holding the title of Chief Manager at the London branch, he believes that his seniority of two years justifies his claim to the CEO role. Since my appointment to this position, our relationship has deteriorated significantly. He prefers to maintain the appearance of a caring brother rather than embodying the true essence of one.
And let's just say that he will act like one tonight.
I find it perplexing why he is present here in the first place. As far as I recall, there is no specific task or assignment that requires his assistance.
"We have arrived, ma'am," Amos announced as he opened the car door for me. Stepping out, I was immediately greeted by the flashing lights of cameras and the clamor of the press corps, vying for the attention of every passing celebrity. However, their focus shifted towards me momentarily, drawn away by the presence of a young man in a tuxedo.
Taking a few steps forward, I strike a pose with hands confidently resting on my hips, fixing my gaze ahead at nothing in particular. However, as I pivot to make my exit, I catch sight of the young man still staring at me, and a sense of recognition floods over me. With practiced composure, I maintain a serene expression on my face, successfully concealing any hint of familiarity, as I continue walking as if unaware of his presence.
With a confident demeanor, I flip my straightened hair, now dyed in a darker shade of blonde, over my shoulder as I walk parallel to him. This deliberate change in hair color was one of the first steps I took to heal and move on after our breakup, knowing that he had always adored my light blonde locks. By transforming my hair, I reclaimed my self-assurance, determined to demonstrate to the world that I had indeed moved forward from our past relationship.
The moment I make my entrance, conversations come to a halt, and all eyes turn towards me. I receive a mix of insincere smiles, genuine expressions of acknowledgement, and even some bold glares from certain individuals. However, I choose to disregard them all, maintaining my poise and confidence.
