The weight of Olivia's sigh lingered in the air, and silence pressed heavily on the room. Every executive, manager, and assistant present watched her with bated breath, waiting for her judgment. Their shoulders were stiff, their expressions guilty. Some fidgeted with their pens, others lowered their eyes to the table as though avoiding a storm they knew was coming.
Olivia leaned back slightly in her chair, fingers tapping the folder in front of her. Her eyes were sharp, unflinching, scanning the room in measured silence. The silence stretched—unyielding, uncomfortable—until finally, she spoke.
"What is this?" Her voice was calm, but the sharpness in her tone sliced through the air like a blade.
No one answered. A few glanced nervously at each other, as though hoping someone else would be brave enough to respond.
Olivia let out a humorless laugh. "Pathetic. That's what this is. Absolutely pathetic."
The words dropped like stones, and the executives stiffened in their seats.
"I was gone for—what? A handful of weeks? And in that short time, you managed to turn a solid, well-structured project into a complete disaster." Her tone grew sharper, each word measured and deliberate. "Do you people even know how much damage this has caused? Do you have any idea how reckless this is?"
Her eyes swept the table. No one dared meet her gaze.
"Let's go over this properly, shall we?" She opened the file again, flipping to a page. "Page three—the budget report. Over-budget in three separate departments. Three! Tell me, which one of you geniuses thought it was a good idea to approve unnecessary expenditures?"
No one moved.
"That's what I thought." She snapped the file shut. "Irresponsible. Utterly irresponsible."
A few beads of sweat formed on foreheads. Claire shifted behind Aiden, clearly rattled, though she tried to maintain her composure.
"And then there's this." Olivia's hand tapped another section. "The scheduling delays. Entire weeks were wasted because of poor communication. Missed deadlines. Overlapping tasks. Did none of you learn how to coordinate a project in the first place? Or were you all too busy playing politics while I was gone?"
Her voice grew sharper, and the executives shrank further into their chairs.
One brave manager finally opened his mouth. "Miss Bennett, with all due respect, things became… difficult after you left. We didn't have a clear direction and—"
Olivia's cold stare cut him off mid-sentence.
"'Difficult'? That's your excuse? You're managers, directors, supposed professionals, yet without someone holding your hand, you crumble like children left unsupervised. Do you even hear yourselves?"
The man flushed crimson and sank back into silence.
Olivia turned another page, her irritation mounting. "And this part—" She jabbed at the paper. "The client communications. Absolutely abysmal. Some of these responses look like they were written by interns, not executives. Did you forget this is a multimillion-dollar project? Or did you think the clients wouldn't notice your incompetence?"
The sting of her words made several of them flinch.
She leaned forward now, both hands flat on the table, her eyes narrowing.
"I carried this project from the ground up. I put in the hours, the strategies, the structure. And the moment I step away, this—" she lifted the file and tossed it back onto the table with a sharp thud— "is what you give me? A mess. A joke."
Her voice lowered, but the dangerous calm in it made everyone's stomach twist. "Do you know what's worse than failure? Wasting someone else's hard work. That's what you've all done here."
The room was suffocating with tension. Not a soul dared to speak.
Then, Olivia's eyes shifted—landing squarely on Aiden.
"And you," she said, her tone sharpening like steel.
Every head snapped up in shock. Scolding the executives was one thing, but addressing Aiden—the always dominant, always untouchable boss—was another.
"You let this happen," Olivia said coldly. "You're the one who approved their decisions. You're the one who looked away when mistakes piled up. You're supposed to lead, Aiden. Instead, you let them drag my work through the mud."
Aiden held her gaze, expression unreadable. The entire room held its breath, expecting him to lash out, to shut her down the way he always did when challenged.
But to their astonishment, he didn't.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaled slowly, and said quietly, "You're right."
The executives nearly gasped aloud. Claire, standing behind him, stiffened in shock, her eyes widening.
"I should have done better," Aiden continued, his voice steady but uncharacteristically subdued. "I made a mistake." His gaze didn't waver from Olivia. "I'm sorry."
The room froze.
For a man known for his pride, his quick temper, and his unwillingness to bend, Aiden's words were unthinkable. The great Aiden Ashford admitting fault—openly, without resistance—was something no one had ever witnessed.
Olivia blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but the calm acceptance in his eyes disarmed her anger. Her shoulders loosened just slightly.
"Good," she said at last, her tone softer though still firm. "Then let's fix it."
She turned back to the others, her eyes sharp once more.
"From this moment on, I want a detailed report of every department's progress. Every error, every delay, every misstep—on my desk by tomorrow morning. No excuses, no extensions. If you can't handle that, you don't belong here."
"Yes, Miss Bennett," came the quiet, almost trembling chorus.
The meeting continued, but the air was thick with tension. Olivia's sharp critiques cut through every weak explanation, every flimsy excuse. By the time it was over, the executives looked like soldiers dragged through a battlefield.
When the last update ended, Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose, looking as though she were ready to strangle someone. Nobody dared speak. Nobody even dared to breathe too loudly.
Aiden, for once, remained quiet, his eyes fixed on her, studying her carefully.
Then Olivia muttered under her breath—clear enough for all to hear—"For f***'s sake…"
The curse ripped through the tense silence, making everyone flinch in their seats. Some actually lowered their heads, as though bracing for another verbal storm.
Instead, Olivia stood up abruptly.
"Grace," she said sharply.
"Yes, ma'am," Grace answered immediately.
"Get all these files organized and take them to my office. I'll review everything myself."
"Yes, ma'am."
Without sparing another glance at the stunned room, Olivia strode out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
The meeting room remained silent, heavy with disbelief. No one moved until long after she was gone.
—
Olivia pushed open the door to her old office, the one she had demanded to be reinstated in before agreeing to return.
The sight stopped her.
Everything was exactly as she had left it. The bookshelves were arranged neatly, her favorite pen holder still on the desk, her files untouched.. She turned on her computer—her login, her desktop, all exactly as she remembered.
For the first time that day, Olivia smiled faintly.
A knock sounded at the door, and Grace entered, carrying a heavy stack of files. She placed them neatly on the desk.
Olivia glanced at her. "Tell me, Grace. Did anyone use this cabin while I was gone?"
Grace shook her head. "No. The other secretaries were given another room."
Olivia's lips curved, the faintest trace of warmth flickering across her features. "I see."
She sat down, opened the first file, and began working. Grace took her seat across the desk, pulling out her own notes. The two women fell into their old rhythm seamlessly, side by side, the room alive once more with Olivia's sharp focus.
For the first time since her return, Olivia felt something she hadn't expected—this place was still hers.
And she wasn't going to let anyone ruin it again.