I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra) novel Chapter 54

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From a distance, I could hear Myron’s furious voice. "What time is it? Don't you all know how important today's design exhibition is? Who's not here yet? Get them on the phone now!"

His assistant nodded frantically and started making calls. Myron took a harsh drag from his cigarette. When he looked up and saw me, the fire in his eyes subsided. He stubbed out the cigarette, stood up, and walked toward me with a grin. "Hey, you're here!"

"I'm so sorry, I was planning a welcome party for you, but we've had an emergency. I'll have to make it up to you. Can you just handle the onboarding paperwork over there for now? We'll talk later." He was backlit by the window, his tall, handsome frame silhouetted against the light, looking effortlessly cool. But I could tell he was stressed.

I nodded. "Don't worry about me. You take care of your business first."

I went to the reception area, where someone from HR was helping me with my paperwork. Myron disappeared into a conference room, his voice now serious. "We've been planning this fashion show for over six months. We've invested a lot of time and money into it. Now, at the final, crucial stage, our lead model has been in a car accident and is in the hospital. We have a backup model, so that's not the problem. But our main garment is damaged. There's no time to remake it. We need a solution, now. I have one requirement: I can accept not winning first place, but we absolutely cannot come in last. We need to maximize the publicity for our company."

A chorus of worried murmurs followed. I finished my paperwork, but the people in the conference room still hadn't come up with a viable solution. Myron's temper was flaring again. "What's wrong with you all? I pay you handsome salaries, and you can't even come up with a contingency plan? Is this how you work?"

Silence. From their fragmented comments, I pieced together their predicament. A meticulously crafted collection, six months in the making, and the centerpiece was ruined. They'd be lucky to mitigate the loss, let alone compete for a prize. It was an impossible task.

I thought for a moment, then knocked on the conference room door. Myron, still fuming, snapped, "Who is it?"

I pushed the door open and walked in confidently. The room was full of executives, all of whom turned to stare at me, clearly wondering who I was. When Myron saw it was me, the impatience in his eyes softened. "My crisis isn't solved yet. If you're tired of waiting, you can come back tomorrow. I'll treat you to dinner to make up for it."