Chapter 2
1416words
"Ring ring——"
Her phone shattered the morning peace with its shrill ring. Olivia glanced at the caller ID—an unfamiliar local number. She swiped to answer, her voice still husky with sleep: "Hello?"
"Olivia? It's Professor William West." A steady, gentle male voice came through the line, carrying that distinctive scholarly warmth unique to lifelong academics.
Olivia instantly snapped to attention, sitting bolt upright as all traces of sleepiness vanished from her voice, replaced with respect and warm familiarity: "Professor West? How on earth did you—"
William West had been her MBA advisor in the UK and the first person to truly recognize her business acumen. After graduation, she'd vanished into married life, severing all connections to her past. She never imagined he'd track her down.
"It took some digging to find your new number," Professor West's voice carried a hint of amusement. "What happened? Three years playing socialite in Harbor City and you've forgotten everything I taught you?"
"I wouldn't dare," Olivia laughed, her tone lightening considerably. "More like I learned how to slay dragons but couldn't find any worthy opponents."
"Well, your dragon has arrived." West's tone turned serious. "I've got a project—or rather, a complete disaster—that needs your touch. I'm calling you out of retirement. Ever heard of an old national brand called 'Flourish'?"
Olivia's fingers flew across her tablet, pulling up information on Flourish. Once a household name specializing in natural skincare, it had been a national treasure decades ago. Now it was being crushed between foreign luxury brands and trendy domestic startups, with headlines screaming "Bankruptcy Looms" and "Can Nostalgia Save This Dying Brand?"
"This isn't just a mess, Professor," Olivia cut straight to the point. "It's a black hole. Outdated product line, frumpy brand image, marketing tactics from the Stone Age. The only thing it has going for it is nostalgia, and that doesn't pay the bills."
"That's exactly why we need you," West's voice brimmed with confidence. "Olivia, I know what you can do. There's some… complicated politics behind this project, but bottom line—it needs someone with vision and balls to turn it around. I submitted your profile anonymously to the board, and they're willing to roll the dice. So, you game?"
Professor West didn't elaborate on those "complicated politics," but Olivia understood perfectly—this was both a challenge and the perfect launchpad for her return to the business world. She barely hesitated: "When my mentor calls, who am I to refuse? Send me everything you've got."
After hanging up, a fire that had been dormant for years blazed to life in Olivia's eyes. She threw open her closet, slipped into a crisp white suit, and drove straight to Flourish headquarters on the opposite side of the city.
Unlike the gleaming skyscrapers downtown, Flourish occupied a dated six-story building plastered with vintage promotional posters showing models with wholesome, outdated smiles. Inside was even worse—dim corridors housed employees who shuffled about like the walking dead, their expressions those of sailors who knew their ship was going down.
"So you're the… consultant… the board hired?" Her greeter was the company head, Director Lee, a gray-haired man with the stubborn expression of someone who'd been doing things his way for decades. He looked Olivia up and down without bothering to hide his contempt, as if she were some pampered princess who'd stumbled onto the wrong movie set.
"I'm Olivia Woods," she extended her hand with unshakable poise. "Starting today, I'm Flourish's new Chief Strategy Officer."
Director Lee snorted, barely touching her hand before snatching his back. "Chief Strategy Officer? Fancy title! Flourish doesn't need fancy strategies—we need solid products! You young people, do you even know the meaning of craftsmanship?"
"I understand the market," Olivia replied coolly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Craftsmanship without market value belongs in museums—where people pay respects to the dead. And frankly, Director Lee, Flourish is rapidly losing even the right to be remembered."
"You—!" Director Lee's face flushed crimson, strangled by her cutting assessment. "Listen here, missy! That's quite the mouth you've got! I'd love to see what magic tricks you think you can perform!"
Meanwhile, at Cloud Summit Club—Harbor City's most exclusive private venue—a high-end cocktail party was in full swing. Alexander Shaw stood with a crystal tumbler in hand, effortlessly working the room, his expression once again its usual mask of cool control.
"Heard the latest? That dinosaur brand 'Flourish' is showing signs of life," a venture capitalist mentioned between sips of scotch. "Word is some mystery investor's taking a gamble on nostalgia marketing."
Alexander didn't even raise an eyebrow at the mention of "Flourish." In his world, such dying companies weren't worth a moment's consideration. His attention remained fixed on his watch—he was waiting for someone far more important.
"Alexander, Sophia has arrived. She's waiting on the terrace," Nathan murmured discreetly.
Alexander nodded, set down his glass, adjusted his French cuffs, and strode purposefully toward the terrace. There, silhouetted against the city lights, stood a stunning figure—Sophia Sullivan, Universal Group heiress, freshly returned from abroad.
Meanwhile, in Flourish's stuffy conference room, Olivia faced the skeptical stares of the entire board of directors.
"Miss Woods, your resume looks good on paper," one director drawled, his tone dripping with skepticism, "but Flourish's problems run deep. Why should we believe you're the miracle worker we need?"
Olivia didn't rush to defend herself. Instead, she calmly switched on the projector. What appeared wasn't complex charts or graphs, but candid street photos of young women.
"This is market research I conducted before walking through your door," Olivia's voice cut through the room with crystal clarity. "I interviewed one hundred women aged 18 to 25—your target demographic. When asked about Flourish, ninety percent drew a blank. The ten percent who recognized it? Their responses: 'my mom's brand,' 'outdated,' and 'cheap.'"
She advanced to the next slide showing case studies of successful niche brands. "Gentlemen, the world has moved on. Today's consumers aren't brand slaves—they crave authenticity, scrutinize ingredients, and connect with stories. Flourish doesn't lack quality—it lacks a voice that speaks to this generation."
She spoke with magnetic precision, methodically walking them through brand repositioning, product line overhauls, and digital marketing strategies. The directors, who had begun the meeting slouched in contemptuous disinterest, gradually straightened in their chairs, their eyes sharpening with attention. Even Director Lee's perpetual scowl had transformed into a look of intense concentration.
"…Give me one month," Olivia concluded, her gaze sweeping the room with unshakable confidence. "Thirty days to show you a completely transformed Flourish. If I fail, I walk away without a penny."
The conference room fell silent. Then, the eldest director began to applaud.
"Well then! One month it is—let's see what Miss Woods can deliver!"
Olivia had won her opening gambit, securing the precious time she needed. Leaving the conference room felt like emerging victorious from battle, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the lobby button.
Just as the doors began to close, a slender yet surprisingly strong arm shot between them. A woman in a perfectly tailored Chanel suit with flawless makeup stepped in, radiating the unmistakable aura of old money and privilege.
It was Sophia.
She appeared to be here on business as well and hadn't initially noticed Olivia. But as they stood together in the confined space, she gave Olivia an instinctive once-over.
That casual glance suddenly froze. She didn't recognize the woman in the impeccable white suit, but something about her composed, razor-sharp presence triggered both a strange sense of déjà vu and… immediate hostility.
Olivia immediately recognized Sophia—the presumed future Mrs. Shaw and queen bee of Harbor City's elite social circle. She said nothing, simply meeting the scrutiny with a level gaze that didn't yield an inch.
Their eyes locked, invisible sparks crackling in the charged air between them.
The elevator descended smoothly, floor numbers changing in silence. Sophia broke first, her lips curving into a practiced, frigid smile, as though the intense moment had never happened.
Olivia also looked away with studied indifference, focusing on her faint reflection in the polished elevator doors.
Ding——
The elevator reached the lobby, doors sliding open. They exited one after the other, not a single word exchanged—yet somehow, an entire battle had been fought and lines had been drawn.
