A Storm Ignored

As I reached the president's office, I paused at the slightly ajar door, noticing two voices engaged in conversation. The president and Arin were seated across from each other, their tones low and businesslike, making it impossible to catch what they were discussing. Arin’s demeanor was calm yet confident, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he was here.

I straightened my posture and gave a polite knock on the door. Both men turned toward me, their conversation halting.

“Miss Mila, come in,” the president said with a welcoming smile, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“Good morning, sir,” I greeted formally, keeping my tone professional. My gaze flickered briefly to Arin, who offered me a small, knowing smile before I quickly looked away and focused on the president.

“Thank you for coming on short notice,” the president began. “I wanted to discuss a new collaboration between our company and Mr. Arin’s firm.” He leaned back slightly, his hands clasped on the desk. “Mr. Arin specifically requested to work with you for this project.”

My eyes widened slightly as I glanced between the president and Arin. My heart skipped a beat, and my mind raced with questions. Why me? Was this part of his plan to help expose Lily, or did he have other motives?

“I—” I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The president seemed to notice my apprehension and leaned forward, offering a reassuring look.

“I understand it’s unusual, but Mr. Arin has reviewed your previous work and believes you’re the perfect fit for the project,” he explained. “It’s a high-profile design initiative, and we trust your expertise.”

Arin nodded, his expression steady but unreadable. “I’ve seen the innovative solutions you bring to your projects, Mila. This collaboration requires a creative approach, and I’m confident you’ll deliver.”

Their confidence in me left little room for refusal. After a brief pause, I nodded hesitantly. “Of course, sir. I’d be happy to contribute.”

The president smiled, satisfied. “Excellent. We’ll brief you on the details.”

As they began explaining the project—a redesign of a luxury retail chain’s flagship outlets to enhance customer experience—I listened intently, taking notes. Though my professional side took over, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye.

I stole another glance at Arin, who caught my gaze for a brief moment before turning back to the president. 

Back in my office, I sat at my desk, poring over the notes I had taken during the meeting. My mind buzzed with ideas as I sketched quick layouts and jotted down possible concepts for the project. The faint hum of my computer and the scratching of my pen filled the quiet space, grounding me in the task.

Just as I began visualizing a theme, my phone buzzed on the desk, breaking my concentration. I sighed, glancing at the caller ID. It was my mom.

I picked up lazily, leaning back in my chair. “Hello?”

Her voice, loud and furious, cut through my greeting. “What the hell is going on, Mila? Do you have any idea what I’ve been dealing with the last two or three days? Relatives and neighbors have been flooding my phone with calls or showing up at my door to shove their phones in my face. That video—that disgusting video of you being slapped in public by your ex-husband—it’s all over the place! And the headlines? They’re absolutely humiliating!”

The words hit like a freight train, and my stomach sank. My mind immediately flashed to the video—the one I had completely forgotten to address. That day, I had been so consumed with other matters that it slipped through the cracks. Now, it had exploded into a storm, one I couldn’t ignore any longer.