Tangled Redemption

Chapter 1

[ V A N Y A ' S   P O V ]

Kill me if you desire.

Bath me in the blood of my own making.

Eyes squinted at the white peonies circling the white marble pillar, and I tapped my left foot on the red-carpeted ground. If only they knew how to decorate a simple pillar for a simple function that was supposed to be held here. If only.

Deep breaths, Vanya. Deep breaths.

One.

Inhale. Exhale.

Two.

Inhale. Exhale.

Three—

The garland of peonies struck the floor, the ladder clattered nearby, and I lost my patience.

"Am I supposed to do this?" I snapped, bent down on my knees, and wrapped my hand around the cold white peonies. Some of the petals fell to the floor, contrasting with the red carpet.

I had an event in the next sixty minutes, but the venue wasn't prepared an inch. I shifted my gaze to the other end of the hall where glass vases adorned the tables, candle bars awaited ignition, and plates were eager to be settled. But the white silver-threaded cloth lay at the bottom of the floor, unable to find its correct location. Sighing, I made my way to the front, where the prominent corner of the event waited to be adorned with white peonies, ribbons, and glitter for the couple to gather the attention of their dear guests.

"We have to hurry," I rushed to Sagar without looking at his figure. My gaze remained fixed on the unfinished preparations, my impending loss of revenue and reputation in the market. "They will be arriving in no time."

"Uhm, one of them is here," he mumbled, too slow as if I would get angry or panic further.

I nodded tightly, chewing the back of the pen to devise an excuse for the delay. I had never been this late, but things went awry when half of your vendors could not reach the destination due to ongoing protests in the city.

Not their fault.

But the clients didn't care about excuses.

It was their special day to celebrate.

"I will meet him," I declared. It was my company, my responsibility.

"Don't," Sagar interjected, always the rescuer.

"You cannot. I am in charge, not you," I asserted, though he always understood the turmoil of my heart, the gripping vines clashing together whenever someone raised their voices around me. Clients often spewed out words in anger that I could never comprehend.

Patting my right elbow, he lifted the corner of his lips and nodded towards the distance. Before I could protest, he handed me the cardboard and walked to the other corner to meet the person.

"Back to the track, Vanya," I muttered to myself, focusing on the task at hand. "Listen," I raised my voice to the workers. "We need to complete this in forty-five minutes. We don't have much time, so please, do your duties."

I read the final instructions to my team, who knew how hyper I could get if things weren't completed on time, how hard I had worked to reach this point, and how important my company was to me. I had worked blood and sweat from the age of twenty-two when I learned the simple corporate life wasn't cut out for me when grief held me in its clutches. But the rage remained on my face and in my voice.

It always stayed.

Dropping the cardboard on the nearest wooden table, I climbed the ladder, stretched the garland of white peonies at the entrance, and secured it with thread. I never liked white peonies. In general, I never had any attraction towards anything white—they were easy to stain and challenging to wash away. Too stubborn.