Chapter 2 : The Grinch
Zara's Porsche curved smoothly into the private lot beneath the towering glass headquarters of Zara's World a bold, glinting skyscraper that sliced the morning sky like a jewel. Its mirrored surface reflected the bustling city below and the quiet power of the empire she was building.
She barely gave the valet a glance as she stepped out in her heels, her curls bouncing with each hurried step. The automatic doors slid open as she strode in, heels clicking against the polished marble floor.
5 minutes late.
She cursed silently under her breath.
"Oh my God, please don't let Stei be here yet," Zara muttered, speed-walking past the reception.
"Good morning, ma'am!" several employees chimed as she passed, eyes widening at her presence.
"Morning!" Zara called back, barely slowing down, her mind already racing with talking points and damage control.
She reached the elevator and jabbed the button. Her reflection in the golden doors looked calm but inside, she was anything but.
Moments later, she stepped out on the executive floor.
"Tessy!" Zara spotted her assistant rushing toward her in sleek heels and a worried expression.
Tessy's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. "I hate to bring you bad news, but... the Grinch has landed."
Zara stopped mid-stride. "Hell. Nah."
With a deep breath and her best CEO face locked in place, she pushed open the doors to the boardroom.
And there she was.
Stei Fontaine.
Draped in icy gray designer tweed, lips painted with lethal precision, and that signature glare that had reduced more than one executive to tears.
Stei turned slowly in her chair, arms crossed.
The room went quiet.
Zara gave her most dazzling smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Traffic was an absolute mess."
Stei's eyebrow arched. "I assumed it was your lip gloss."
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Let the games begin.
Zara kept her CEO smile glued in place, her heels clicking as she moved toward the head of the room.
Damn this stupid bitch.
You're not getting the upper hand today, Stei. Not this time.
"Shall we begin?" she said smoothly, her voice calm, composed—with just a hint of challenge.
The room shifted. Board members sat up straighter, notepads ready, eyes on Zara. The energy changed. This was her turf now.
She walked toward the sleek screen already lit with the opening slide of her presentation. A bold, minimal graphic splashed across it: "Introducing... THE SOLAR BLOOM COLLECTION."
Zara turned to face the room, eyes scanning everyone, then paused dramatically before speaking.
"Our newest collection, SOLAR BLOOM, is a celebration of warmth, strength, and undeniable glow. Inspired by women who bloom even in the harshest seasons—who rise, stand tall, and command the room without ever raising their voice."
She tapped the remote. The screen shifted—rich images of models in golden hues, earthy tones, and delicate embroidered fabrics filled the boardroom.
Soft linen blazers with sharp tailoring. Flowy dresses that moved like sun rays. Metallic accents, elegant drapery, and power silhouettes.
Every piece told a story.
Murmurs of admiration rippled across the room.
Zara noticed eyes lighting up, jaws slackening, heads nodding. Even the coldest execs couldn't hide the glimmer of surprise and respect in their eyes.
Everyone looked impressed. Everyone…
Except her.
Stei sat still.
Arms folded.
Expression blank.
Dead silent.
Her eyes scanned the screen like she was dissecting prey.
Zara felt the tension tighten around her ribs but didn't flinch.
She pressed forward.
"This collection isn't just fashion it's mood, identity, movement. And it's already pulling pre-orders from Paris and Toronto. Numbers are up 18.5% from last quarter, and we're only in preview season."
She glanced at Stei, daring her to challenge it.
Nothing. Just that same frostbitten stare.
But Zara didn't let it rattle her. She clicked to the final slide an image of the Solar Bloom Signature Dress: champagne silk, asymmetrical neckline, golden sunburst embroidery across the bodice.
The room was still. Hanging on every detail.
Then slow claps broke out from the far end of the table.
More joined in. A few nods. One whispered, "Incredible…"
Zara stepped back, smile still polished.
She'd done her part.
But Stei?
She uncrossed her legs slowly. Raised a brow. And said:
"Hm. Pretty pictures."
She tilted her head. "But does it sell, darling?"
Zara's smile twitched—but held.
Pretty pictures?
She almost laughed.
But Stei wasn't done. She leaned forward, tapping a perfectly manicured nail on the glass table. The sound echoed slow and condescending.
"You say the collection is about strength and movement," she said coolly. "But these designs… they look like something a debutante would wear to brunch in LA. Not exactly global edge, is it?"
The boardroom went silent.
Zara blinked once. Twice.
"Well, fashion evolves with mood and market," she replied, voice even. "We're appealing to modern women who balance softness with power. There's strength in elegance"
"Oh please," Stei cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "You're dressing for fantasy, not reality. No woman wants to bloom in a world that's already trying to crush her. She wants armor. Structure. Shock value. Not petals and sunlight."
Zara's jaw tensed, but her tone stayed neutral. "With all due respect, our numbers say otherwise."
"Numbers lie when there's hype," Stei replied sharply. "I've seen it too many times. A pretty collection with good PR, and then six months later—sale racks. Dead stock. Clearance bins at Nordstrom."
The words stung like slaps.
Stei turned to the rest of the room. "We don't need 'feel-good fashion' right now. We need dominance. Something that says: we're back, and we're here to take over."
A pause. Then someone cleared their throat.
"Well… she's not wrong," muttered one of the senior analysts.
Another exec Paul, Zara remembered nodded. "Honestly, the designs are gorgeous. But they don't scream strategy. Not in today's market."
Zara's heart thudded. One voice. Then another.
The support she had felt just minutes ago was unraveling like thread.
All eyes shifted back to her.
But her face didn't crack.
Inside? She was raging. But on the surface?
She was still the CEO of Zara's World.
Still in control.
She tilted her head, let out a soft breath, and said coolly, "Thank you all for your feedback."
Then she turned to Stei, her smile returning—but this time, sharper.
"I'll take your... notes. I'm sure we'll all be watching closely to see if your upcoming collection offers something stronger than brunch and fantasy."
A few quiet chuckles, quickly stifled.
Stei's lips curled, amused.
"Don't worry, darling. I always deliver."
"That'll be all. I'll take your suggestions seriously," Zara said with a perfectly controlled smile, her voice smooth as silk.
But inside, she was crumbling.
She had spent months preparing for this presentation endless hours sketching, reviewing data, curating mood boards, adjusting fabrics, leading fittings and just like that, everything unraveled in less than thirty minutes.
Gone.
All that work tossed aside like a clearance rack item.
"You'd better," Stei said flatly as she rose from her chair, her heels clicking against the marble floor with practiced arrogance. Without another glance, she exited the boardroom.
One by one, the execs followed her out.
Except for Paul.
He lingered, adjusting his tie, his voice lower now—almost apologetic.
"Nice work, Zara," he said, patting her shoulder lightly. "That was actually impressive... but like Stei said—it needs more push."
Zara gave him a hollow smile, hiding the sharp edge behind her words.
"Yes, I'll definitely add more push to it."
Paul nodded, oblivious, and left.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Tessy stepped forward, eyes filled with concern. She had stayed quiet in the meeting as she was supposed to but now, her heart spoke freely.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, ma'am. I know how long you've been preparing for this," she said, shaking her head. "That Stei woman is one hell of a"
"Thanks, Tess," Zara cut in gently, still holding that fragile smile. "You can go now. I just... want to be alone for a bit."
Tessy hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, ma'am. Call me if you need anything."
Zara gave a slight nod. The door closed again.
And then—silence.
The smile she had clung to slowly melted from her face, revealing what lay beneath. The strength she wore so effortlessly in public the aura, the armor, the confidence crumbled like paper.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung.
She sat down slowly, fingers trembling as they reached for the pendant hanging at her chest a simple gold locket. Her father had given it to her on her graduation day.
The last gift before he passed.
She clutched it tightly.
Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks, hot and silent.
"Dad…" she whispered, her voice cracking as she sobbed. "I hate it here. I wish you were here…"
The boardroom around her was still—the echo of her pain hanging in the air.
For the first time all day, Zara didn't pretend.
No steeze. No smile.
Just the girl behind the empire broken in a room full of power.
After several long, painful minutes of silent crying, Zara wiped her face with the back of her hand.
Enough.
The tears had fallen. The pain was acknowledged. Now, it was time for step two in her sacred heartbreak ritual:
Get drunk.
Dangerously drunk.
She stood up, straightened her dress, and muttered to herself as she grabbed her purse and phone.
"I need to get so fucking drunk tonight that I won't even feel my face."
Without a second thought, she dialed the one person who understood her madness without judgment Jessica.
Jessica had been her best friend since the fifth grade. They were inseparable—more like soul sisters than friends. Jessica was an only child, and a walking contradiction. Sweet and savage. Elegant and chaotic. Depending on the day, she could love you, slap you, or both.
Her parents were the prestigious owners of Westwood Hospital, one of the biggest in Canada. Naturally, they were stunned when their daughter decided to own a casino instead of following the family's medical legacy.
But after some intense persuasion (and a few emotional meltdowns), they gave in. After all, Jessica was their only child—they'd steal the moon for her if she asked twice.
Zara didn't even have to wait for a full ring before the phone picked up.
"Heyyyyy bitch! What's poppin'?" Jessica's voice burst through the speaker like champagne foam.
Zara exhaled sharply and rubbed her forehead. "Jessy... I need to get drunk tonight."
Jessica gasped. "Excuse me? I thought you said you were abstaining from alcohol? I mean, weren't you on some 'born again' detox journey?"
Zara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, I was lying to myself. Alcohol is the only thing I need right now. So... you coming, or should I go find a knock-off drinking buddy?"
Jessica scoffed. "Shut up, bitch. Any drinking buddy besides me is a counterfeit."
Zara cracked a small smile. "Okay, okay. Let's meet at our usual spot."
"You got it. I'm bringing shots and emotional damage. See ya, babe."
"See ya."
Zara hung up and grabbed her keys.
Tonight, she wasn't CEO Zara.
She wasn't the girl Stei tried to humiliate.
Tonight… she was just a girl with tequila, a broken heart, and her best bitch by her side.