Workplace Drama: My Ex is in Charge

Part 11 Unfortunate Events

The weather had turned abruptly, and in the middle of the night, a fierce storm raged. Rain pelted the windows in rapid, unrelenting bursts, jolting Emma awake.
But once her eyes opened, dawn was already close.
The sky was just beginning to lighten when the rain finally subsided to a soft drizzle, and Emma, half-asleep, drifted back into slumber.
That lasted only half an hour before her alarm rang.

Dragging herself out of bed, she went through the motions—washing up, putting on makeup, and dressing in her work uniform. She barely managed to scarf down a sandwich that was on the verge of expiring before heading out the door.
It wasn't until she was nearly at the office that a thought hit her like a punch to the gut—today was the day she was supposed to conduct compliance checks at the branch offices.
Stopped at a red light, Emma switched to park and slumped into her seat, exhausted and barely able to muster the will to press the gas pedal again.
Eighty seconds to wait. Closing her eyes for ten, she opened them again and checked the time on the dashboard. She recalculated her driving route, sighing.
The rain had stopped, but the skies were still heavy with clouds, and thick fog loomed ahead. She'd need to be extra cautious. Focus.

As she pulled up to the first branch, Emma felt like the entire day's energy had already drained from her. Her face was set in a hard frown by the time she got out of the car.
During the inspection of documents, files, and surveillance footage, her brows remained furrowed, and she absentmindedly clicked her pen's cap on and off, marking down each infraction in her notebook.
Five branches in total, and at each one, the managers stood by nervously, watching as she noted down point after point. No one dared to plead their case after taking a glance at her expression.
Emma, however, wasn't angry—just bone-tired, so much so that she was beginning to question her life choices.

It wasn't until five in the evening that she finally returned to her office. She hadn't even powered on her computer when Grace appeared beside her, saying, "The general manager wants to see you in his office."
Emma, too drained to respond immediately, rested her head on the desk for a moment before asking, "When did he say that?"
Grace thought for a moment. "This morning, during the meeting. He said whenever you got back, you should go."
"..."
What if she hadn't come back at all today?
Emma let herself rest for five more minutes, organized the notes from the day's inspections, and then knocked on Owen's office door with her notebook in hand.
Behind the desk sat a man in a crisp white shirt, his sharp eyes fixed on his computer screen, exuding an air of cool elegance.
Emma stood before his desk. "You wanted to see me?"
Owen's eyebrow lifted slightly at her words, but his lips remained sealed in a thin, tight line.
Emma waited patiently, her gaze dropping to the surface of his desk, where she considered counting the number of scratches on it.

It was a long moment before Owen finally pulled his eyes away from the screen. His long, graceful fingers left the mouse as he glanced up at her and gestured. "Sit."
Emma didn't want to sit.
She was pressed for time.
But under the weight of Owen's sharp gaze, she reluctantly sank into the chair.
"How many branches did you visit today?" he asked.
"Five," Emma replied.
Owen nodded. "Anything unusual?"
Emma had already prepared a brief summary in her mind before coming. She opened her notebook, ready to give her report.
As she started to speak, she noticed Owen watching her intently, his gaze narrowing when he spotted the dark circles under her eyes.
Just as she was about to explain, Owen rose from his chair and walked over to the sofa, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on.
"...?" Emma stared at him, confused.
Owen, seeing her look, buttoned his jacket and said, "Let's go."
"...?"
"Didn't you say we were having dinner?" he added.
What?!
Didn't he refuse?!

Noticing Emma's silence, Owen glanced back at her and asked, "What do you feel like eating?"
Emma reminded him, "Didn't you say you were busy?"
Unfazed, Owen replied, "I'm free now."
Emma checked the time on her watch before saying, "Sorry, I don't have time anymore. Have a good dinner, General Manager."
Owen's hands stilled on his cufflinks, and his expression darkened instantly.
But Emma had no interest in watching him perform his impressive 'mood swing' act. She snapped her notebook shut and headed for the door.
At least she'd been polite enough not to say "meal."
As soon as the door closed behind her, Owen ripped off his jacket and flung it onto the sofa.
He stood in place, hands on his hips, letting out a bitter chuckle. His tongue clicked against his teeth, but the frustration lingered.