Chapter 2: Glamorous Female President_1

Chapter Two: The Cold and Gorgeous Female President

...

Early morning.

Accompanied by the intermittent rays of sunlight creeping through the curtains.

Yves King glanced around his environment, confirming that this was a hotel. Feeling a bit relieved, he took a shower and changed his clothes.

Without a second glance, he left the hotel. Checking his watch, it was already past eight twenty. His clothes seemed to be in a terrible state, reeking of a mixture of cigarette smoke and alcohol, with a sour stench from the night before. Even King found it quite unpleasant. However, at this time, the larger shopping malls generally were not open yet. Going back to his hotel room to change would take at least half an hour, and he had an interview scheduled for half past eight.

Oh well, it was just going to have to do. Yves King hailed a cab and headed to the predetermined location. Besides, Old Miller had already arranged everything for him. The so-called interview was just for appearances' sake. King, nursing a hangover induced by his indulgence, reclined lazily on the back seat of the taxi, listening to the driver's incessant chatter. Half-opening his eyes and offering an occasional response, he was the very picture of a decadent man nursing a hangover.

...

Faye Owen sat with serenity in a presidential office decorated in a modest, elegant, and unsuspecting way that screamed understated luxury at its highest. She was processing some documents in silence, overseeing everything meticulously. Even for the most commonplace document, she would ponder over it meticulously, and then pose a series of sharp and straight-to-the-point questions.

This has brought some degree of terror to Tom Donald, the chief of internal affairs who was past his prime, slightly overweight, and showing signs of hair loss. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he faltered, wiping it with a handkerchief continuously while answering Faye's difficult and cutting questions. At the same time, Tom silently mourned and wondered: from where had the big boss found such a domineering and harsh woman to act as President? She had only been appointed for three months, but had already fired three department heads, sixteen middle managers, over sixty employees, and more than half of the security team.

When Faye originally arrived, all the male employees cheered with joy. After all, Faye was not only attractive and wore the title of a Stanford University graduate, but she was also single. It's considered a rare luxury for a woman to possess both exceptional intellect and beauty.

To be employed in this renowned corporation, numerous white-collar elites from prestigious colleges, boasting impressive backgrounds and wealth, had gathered. Even these high-achieving male elites couldn't help but admit that Faye Owen was a remarkable woman.

However, they soon experienced Faye's harsh and overbearing management. 'Talk, get paid, leave.' She was ruthless in firing people, so much so that everyone firmly believed she must have been a professional staff-cutter before. She never showed any sign of hesitation when dealing with any begging or pleading, remaining stoic.

Her extraordinary beauty barely concealed a coldness. Many of her female subordinates, subject to this "persecution," covertly spread rumors claiming Faye must have been abandoned by a lover, leading to her twisted and psychopathic character. Yet a sizable portion of male colleagues, whom she had harshly rattled, exhibited signs of admiration — on bended knee underneath her metaphorical skirt, declaring "Long live the queen!"

However, after just three months, everyone respected and feared Faye Owen. Diligently focusing on their work, they all feared that the ax would fall on them the next time she swung it. Hardly any of them would consider quitting a job with such lucrative compensation and prestige. Thus, the overall atmosphere of the company drastically improved, sweeping away the lackadaisical practices left behind by the former president.

"Director Donald." Suddenly, Faye's brows, furrowed in concentration, relaxed while reading a document.

Startled, Yamil straightened his posture, presenting an appearance of respectful and patient attentiveness, looking as if he was about to utter, "Your humble servant is listening," any instant.

"Your recent work has been very good, I hope you keep it up and continue to strive harder." Even when complimenting someone, Faye Owen's face remained as cold as ice, her slender fingers gently closed the folder.

"All thanks to the President's cultivation, Yamil is just following your instructions, President." As Yamil breathed a sigh of relief, he drew closer without any air of complacence. He picked up the small coffee pot that was warming up on a fire and made her a cup of coffee. Over the months, he had completely understood President Owen's temperament and her many subtleties. This was his survival strategy, and the reason why he had been able to survive through three presidents.

Faye Owen nodded in gratitude, raised the delicate coffee cup and took a light sip, half of her beautiful eyes closed. She let the bitter taste linger on her tongue. Tiredness showed unwittingly between her brows. All thanks to her confidante, who had been so agitated yesterday, dragging her to the exclusive women's club bar and drinking till dawn. In the private room she had been crying, making a scene and then laughing. Where was the decisive, hard-handed figure Faye knew? This revelation made Faye curious, what man could turn a woman even she feared, into that pitiable state? She understood after a great deal of crying and laughing. This woman had merely caught sight of her first crush, whom she had been secretly in love with. She'd only caught a fleeting glimpse.

This almost drove Faye Owen to the edge, comforting her friend late into the night only to find out the whole outburst was over something so trivial.

Ever observant, Yamil spoke with genuine concern, "President, I don't mean to be nosy. But, you have to pay attention to balancing your work and rest. If you're tired, please take a break in the next room. The past few months, you've been working too hard. If you overwork yourself, the momentum our company has been building up will disappear. I am willing to take charge off all the dirty work and heavy tasks for you."

"Thank you for your kindness, Director Donald." Faye lightly massaged her temples and calmly replied, "We have an interview at half-past eight..." She raised her hand as she spoke, the warm tone of her face dropping even further.

Because the slender pointer on her delicate lady's watch read thirty-one minutes past eight.

Being late straight away made Faye own despise the unseen candidate. Of course, if it was just being late, even though she greatly disliked those who could not keep to time, it was not the sole reason for her dislike.

What irked Faye Owen more, was that this person was nepotistic. The so-called interview was just a formality.

Although she knew that such practices were common in China, she still vehemently resisted them. She had very reluctantly broken her principles to accept this candidate because her boss had personally called her, pleading that she absolutely had to hire this person. Claiming he owed the person a huge favor, and that he would feel guilty if he didn't help him out. He also swore that this kind of situation would never happen again.

Out of helplessness, Faye Owen had to violate her principles and previous agreements to accept the situation. After all, Old Miller was not only her boss but also a friend of her father. Under the unwritten rules of China, she couldn't just stand by and let Old Miller embarrass himself, could she?

Despite agreeing, Faye Owen was deeply repulsed by the mentioned Yves King, especially since he dared not adhere to the agreed-upon time. If he was applying for an ordinary position, she wouldn't have bothered to interview him herself. But Old Miller hoped that he could be appointed as a high-ranking official in the company. Additionally, she wanted to judge for herself the capability of this nepotistic candidate. What could he possibly owe Old Miller to make him go to such lengths?

She half closed her eyes, quietly waiting as the minutes ticked by.

It was not until the pointer on Faye Owen's watch reached forty-five minutes past eight that a man in a crumpled grey trench coat sauntered into the office. He picked up the coffee pot to pour himself a cup without a care in the world, took a sip and praised, "This is good stuff, top quality Blue Mountain."

All the while, Faye Owen saw the repulsive stains on his coat, and the complex smell of cigarette and alcohol that assaulted her.

...

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