The days flowed by like water, and for once, things at Ashford Corporation were running smoothly. The fashion week project—after weeks of chaos, delays, and near collapse—was finally back on schedule. Olivia's sharp discipline and endless energy had reshaped the entire team's pace. Suppliers were delivering on time, designers were submitting drafts without excuses, and the staff had learned quickly that cutting corners or making excuses would earn them a cold, sharp glare from her that stung worse than a reprimand.
Even Aiden had settled into this rhythm. Though he remained the CEO, feared by the company for his strictness, there was a subtle change in him now.
Today, however, a new problem awaited Olivia.
She had scheduled a meeting with the suppliers. Though most had been cooperating after her earlier confrontations, a few were still dragging their feet. The delays were creating small but noticeable issues in fabric availability, slowing down the cloth-making process. Olivia intended to put an end to it once and for all.
The meeting room was filled with murmurs when Olivia arrived. Several suppliers were seated, looking a little too relaxed, as though they assumed they could get away with pushing her around again. Olivia walked in, her heels clicking against the floor, and immediately the air shifted. She was dressed in her usual sharp suit, her expression cool, her aura radiating authority.
"Good afternoon," she said, placing a thick folder on the table and taking her seat. "Let's get straight to the point. We've had too many delays already. I expect every shipment to arrive exactly as scheduled. No more extensions, no more excuses."
Most of the suppliers shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but one man at the far end leaned back in his chair and smirked.
"With all due respect, Miss Bennett," he drawled, "there's been an increase in transportation costs and raw materials. If you want the shipment on time, the price will be higher. Let's say… twenty percent more."
The room went silent. A few suppliers glanced at each other nervously. Olivia raised her brows, calm but sharp.
"Twenty percent more?" she repeated slowly, her tone even but cutting. "And you choose to announce this now, a week before the deadline?"
The man shrugged, clearly testing her. "That's the market. If you want quality, you'll have to pay for it."
Olivia leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. She studied him for a moment, her lips curving into a faint, cold smile.
"Interesting," she said. "Because, according to the contracts you signed, prices are fixed until the project ends. And if you think I'll let you exploit the urgency of fashion week to extort more money, you're mistaken."
The supplier's smirk faltered.
Olivia opened her folder and slid a document across the table toward him. "Clause 7.3. Any supplier who violates the terms of pricing or deadlines will have their contract terminated immediately, with penalties applied. Not only will you lose this project, but Ashford Corporation will blacklist you from every collaboration in the future. You'll find it… difficult to work with anyone in this industry again."
Her voice was calm, but the weight of her words pressed down on everyone present.
"Now," she said, leaning forward, eyes sharp. "Do you still want to raise the price?"
The man swallowed hard, his earlier arrogance vanishing. "…No, Miss Bennett."
"Good," Olivia replied smoothly. "Then we'll expect your shipment on time, at the agreed price. I trust that won't be a problem."
He shook his head quickly.
Satisfied, Olivia turned to the others. "The rest of you—deliver as scheduled. No one here wants to see what happens if you test me again."
The meeting ended with everyone nodding vigorously, eager to escape her presence.
After that, Olivia went straight into another meeting with the designers. They had brought their final drafts for the collection, dozens of sketches and fabric swatches neatly laid out across the table.
Olivia flipped through them with a critical eye. They have made significant progress since the last time. She tapped her pen against the table, sorting them into piles.
Olivia gathered the sketches, stacked them neatly, and left the room.
She carried the designs up to the top floor and entered Aiden's office after knocking. He was behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, going through reports. He looked up immediately when she walked in.
"These are the designs," Olivia said, laying the sketches on his desk. "Review them and tell me which ones you want finalized."
Aiden leaned forward, carefully going through each one. After a few minutes, he pointed to several. "These. They have the strongest impact. Tell the team to focus on them as the main outfits for the show."
Olivia nodded, collecting the pile.
Aiden looked at her, his voice softer than usual. "Have you faced any difficulties so far?"
"None," Olivia replied simply.
Their eyes held for a moment, quiet but steady. Then she gave him a small nod and left, returning to her office.
Days passed like this—meetings, approvals, adjustments. The tension in the air grew sharper as fashion week approached. Finally, just one week before the event, they held a final summary meeting.
It lasted more than two hours, covering every detail—runway logistics, schedules, models, designs, marketing, and media arrangements. When it ended, Olivia felt drained but satisfied. Everything was falling into place.
Back in her office, she stacked the last of her papers into neat piles and exhaled. For once, she was free from paperwork. Tomorrow, she would go to the venue herself to inspect decorations, check the runway, oversee photoshoots, and finalize advertisements.
She gathered her things, but instead of leaving, she walked to Aiden's office.
He looked up as she knocked and entered. For once, his desk was clean—his work finished.
"You're done already?" Olivia asked, a small hint of surprise in her voice.
Aiden leaned back slightly. "Yes. Finally."
Olivia smiled faintly. "Good. Then I'll take you to dinner. My favorite place."
For a second, Aiden blinked at her. Then a rare, genuine smile curved his lips. "Your favorite place?" He sounded almost amused, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "Alright."
They left together, heading down to the parking lot.
"Let's take my car," Olivia said, unlocking the sleek black vehicle.
Aiden didn't argue. He slid into the passenger seat while Olivia took the wheel.
The restaurant wasn't flashy or overly expensive. It was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and the faint aroma of spices drifting through the air. Wooden tables gleamed under golden lamps, and the staff greeted Olivia warmly, as if they recognized her.
"This is it?" Aiden asked as they were led to a private corner.
Olivia nodded, a little smile playing at her lips. "Trust me. The food here is better than anywhere else."
"You should try the spicy garlic shrimp noodles," she told him, setting down the menu. "It's the best here."
Aiden raised a brow but agreed. "If you say so."
When the dishes arrived, the scent alone was enough to make him pause. He took a bite, and his eyes widened slightly.
"…You were right," he admitted, surprising himself as much as her. "This is… really good."
Olivia smirked, satisfied. "Told you."
The two of them ate, their conversation lighter than usual. They talked about the approaching fashion week, about how the preparations were almost done. Aiden even asked her, half-curious, half-teasing, why she had never taken him here before.
"Because you never asked," Olivia replied with a shrug, sipping her tea.
For a moment, silence hung between them—not heavy, but comfortable.
When they finished, they returned to the office building briefly so Olivia could collect a few of her things. Then, standing in the parking lot, they exchanged a quiet goodnight before parting ways—Aiden to his car, Olivia to hers.
And though nothing more was said, the unspoken ease between them lingered, like a quiet promise.