I loved my silky, long brown hair—but it had to go. I picked up a scissors and gripped a handful of my hair.Without a second thought, the blade snipped through my hair. I trimmed and styled it into a sleek, perfect look. Looking back at myself I looked beautiful but different in my chin length fashionable Bob.

I slipped into my creamy, button-down white shirt and a pair of grey tailored trousers. I left a few buttons undone, revealing the delicate necklace that matched perfectly with my pearl earrings.

“Perfect,” I muttered as I applied my lip gloss.

I trudged to the shoe rack and picked up my stiletto heels. Just as I slid them on, the door swung open. I didn’t need to guess who barged into my room without knocking.

“What?” Gracias gasped. “You cut your hair?”

“Yes. I think the new me prefers shorter hair,” I said, grabbing my leather handbag.

“You look amazing! Just like Selena Danielle.”

“Who’s that?” I raised a brow, confused.

“You don’t know? Tell me which planet you’re from!”

I rolled my eyes at her. “I don’t keep tabs on celebrities.”

“She’s a popular TV host. Jaw-dropping gorgeous!” she chimed.

“Oh… okay. Guess that’s a good thing,” I said quickly, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“Karen, Gracias! We’re already a few minutes late,” my mother called out.

“Mom!” I walked up to her and kissed both cheeks.

“You look perfect, my child,” she complimented, caressing my cheeks.

I hugged my dad reluctantly. His stern expression landed on me, cold and heavy. That same terrifying look used to make me flinch in fear during my teenage years. I was glad I had outgrown that phase.

“I preferred your long hair, Karen,” he said, with a scowl of disapproval.

“Well, guess what? I did it for me,” I replied sarcastically and strode past him.

“Your long hair made you look feminine…” he continued. You shouldn't have cut it

“Albert—” my mom cut in with her usual calm tone. “We’ll keep them waiting. Let’s hurry.”

For a brief moment, I regretted agreeing to return to the family business. Loving my father from afar had always been easier. Being close to him was a struggle—his controlling personality grated on me. My eyes met Gracias’, and her reassuring smile pulled me back on track.

We got into the car and drove silently to the company.

---

“Welcome to Demarco's Enterprise!” my business executives chirped with enthusiasm. Their faces beamed with practiced smiles. I glanced around the board of directors and took a long, deep breath.

Everything felt surreal.

Four years ago, I was here, I worked as my father’s personal assistant. I followed him everywhere—even into rooms where critical decisions were made. He mentored me for years, and I grew exceptionally skilled at handling the company.

But now… tension coiled in my chest. Three years is such a long time. Butterflies stirred in my stomach. Doubts crept in.

Can I really run this company?

I clasped my hands together and rubbed them gently.

“Here—this is your personal assistant,” my father’s voice jolted me from my thoughts.

“Hi, I’m Victoria. It’s nice meeting you,” a petite brunette said with a bright smile.

“Nice meeting you too.”

We shook hands. I scanned her from head to toe—she seemed like a cheerful and dependable person.

“And this is Amira James,” my father continued. “She’s worked tirelessly to keep this company going. She’ has been the acting CEO.”

“Amira!” I said warmly, pulling her into a hug. Her floral perfume lingered in the air between us.

“I’ve heard so much about you. Thank you for all you’ve done,” I added enthusiastically.

Maybe I was imagining it, but her smile faltered. She seemed to force her cheerfulness—but I brushed it off.

I walked into my office. Amira’s portrait hung conspicuously on the wall. I sank into the recliner chair and swiveled slowly. A knock on the door made me blink.

“Come in, it’s open,” I said.

“Oh… sorry, I should’ve taken those,” Amira apologized as she stepped in, removing her portrait and the glass nameplate boldly engraved with Amira James. She walked toward the door but suddenly stopped. Turning to face me, her eyes locked onto mine.

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” she smiled.

“Oh… thanks,” I muttered, unsure if that was meant to be a compliment. “I hope it’ll be a collaborative experience working with you.”

“Sure,” she replied, flipping her hair before pivoting out of the office.

My thoughts drifted—how did she know I didn't want to come back?

Just then, Victoria walked in, carrying a carton full of my stuff.

“Where did you get all these?” I asked, surprised.

“ from Mrs Rene. Demarco,” she replied.

I nodded smiling. It was typical of my mom to make sure everything was in place. A satisfied smile spread across my lips as Victoria began arranging my things. I lifted the glass nameplate boldly engraved with Karen Demarco, CEO.

“Okay, let’s get started,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing my palms together and opening the report on my desk.

The door swung open again. My parents stepped in, helping themselves in to a sit opposite mine.

“How was it?” my mom asked concerned.

“Fine,” I replied, pushing aside the anxious thoughts creeping in. “I’m just trying to get acquainted with everything.”

“That’s good,” my dad said with a nod. “The media are outside. They want to interview you.”

“Why?” I asked, shocked. “What for?”

“It’s good for the business,” he explained. “You need to be in their faces, especially as the new CEO.”

I exhaled deeply. “Not today, Dad. They can wait.”

“Darling, it’s just a brief introduction—you just have to state your vision for the company you don't have to reveal too much ,” my mom added gently. “It won’t take much of your time. Please.”

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t say no to her.

“Alright. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

I applied my lip gloss and retouched my makeup. I hadn’t memorized any lines or prepped for the interview. Nerves racked my entire being, I feel feverish for being addressed as the company's CEO. I was almost blinded by the camera flashes the moment I stepped out.

I sat down, trying my best to hold myself together and give off an air of confidence—even though I felt like a nervous wreck.

A few minutes into the interview, the question I dreaded most surfaced.

“ Karen Miller, can you tell us about your failed marriage.”

"Karen Demarco, I corrected.

“About that, I have nothing to say,” I snapped quickly, forcing a smile.

“At what point did you decide to return to the company? Does it have anything to do with your failed marriage?”

The questions kept coming from every direction. I felt my temperature rising. My pulse racing rapidly.

I took a deep breath. “I’d appreciate it if we didn’t go down that path,” I retorted.

“Just one last question'', The reporter persisted,

"A video clip of you assaulting your ex-husband and his new woman is all over the internet. Your emotions were all over the place. Is it safe to say you’re unstable and unreliable to run a company effectively?”

Shocked and embarrassed, I squeezed my eyes shut and hid my shaking hands. A boiling fury swelled inside of me, I felt like I was about to explode Everything inside of me was pushing me to react.

---