President Morana

Two days later, I stood beside my grandfather in the grand boardroom of The Sinclair Group. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your instincts sharpen.

The polished mahogany table stretched nearly the length of the room, its surface gleaming under the brilliant chandelier lights. Around it sat the board members—men and women who, despite their sharp suits and polished facades, carried emotions that ranged from barely veiled disdain to cautious curiosity.

Some smiled at me, though their smiles felt brittle, forced. Others didn't bother hiding their contempt. Their eyes said everything they thought but wouldn't dare voice in front of my grandfather—not yet.

My grandfather stood tall beside me, his cane tapping the floor once to command their attention. Despite his age, his presence was imposing, his sharp gaze daring anyone to challenge him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice steady and unyielding. "As I mentioned in previous discussions, my time as the head of The Sinclair Group is coming to an end. Today, I am proud to announce my successor."

The murmurs started immediately, a low buzz rippling through the room. Some leaned forward in their chairs, intrigued. Others exchanged glances, their doubt palpable.

"This is my granddaughter, Morana Sinclair," he continued, his tone brimming with authority. "She will be taking over as the President of The Sinclair Group, effective immediately."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling like a storm cloud over the gathering. Then, just as I stepped forward to address them, the storm broke.

A man seated to my left, probably in his mid-40s, a receding hairline, and a tie that screamed overcompensation spoke first. "With all due respect, sir, how can someone with no experience in business suddenly become the President of this company?"

I turned to him, my expression calm, but before I could respond, he pressed on.

"Isn't she a model?" he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "What's she doing here? This isn't some fashion show. Does she think running a company is as simple as posing for cameras?"

Another voice chimed in, this one belonging to a woman in a sharp gray suit. "This is absurd. The Sinclair Group is a global conglomerate, not a playground for someone who knows nothing about the corporate world."

"She's here because of nepotism," someone muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The murmurs swelled, voices overlapping in a cacophony of dissent.

"She'll ruin everything," another board member snapped. "What does she know about running a business of this magnitude?"

"This is an insult to everyone who's worked hard to build this company!"

"Absolutely," another man chimed in, shaking his head. "How are we supposed to trust someone with no experience? This company is built on hard work and knowledge, not glamour."

The criticisms kept coming, their voices rising in pitch and volume. The room erupted into chaos, their voices overlapping, each statement more cutting than the last.

I could see my grandfather clenching his jaw, his hands tightening around his cane. He opened his mouth to intervene, but I gently placed my hand on his arm, stopping him.

"I've got this," I mouthed, meeting his concerned gaze with a reassuring smile.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stepped back, allowing me to take the lead.

The room was still buzzing with whispers when a man seated near the far end of the table suddenly rose to his feet. His salt-and-pepper hair gave him an air of experience, and his sharp eyes scanned the room.

"Enough!" he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a whip.

The room fell silent.

"Have any of you stopped to consider that perhaps Mr. Sinclair knows what he's doing?" he continued, his tone firm.

His words caused a ripple of murmurs.

"She's here because Mr. Sinclair believes in her abilities," he continued.

"He's led this company to greatness for decades. Don't you think he deserves the benefit of the doubt?"

"That's easy for you to say, Michael," the man with the receding hairline shot back. "It's not your department on the line!"

"And it's not yours alone," Michael retorted, his voice calm but sharp. "We're all responsible for this company's success. Shouldn't we give her a chance to prove herself before passing judgment?"

"A chance?" someone scoffed. "This isn't some experiment. It's our livelihoods!"

The arguments flared up again, louder and more chaotic.

I let them go on for a moment longer, letting their voices drown each other out. That was it, I slammed my hands on the table, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

"Are you finished?" I asked, my voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "Have you all had your fill of talking?" 

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to me, some wide with surprise, others narrowing in anger. The man who had first spoken, the one who seemed most determined to undermine me recoiled slightly at the intensity in my gaze.

I straightened, pointing directly at him. "You," I said, my tone steady and cold.

He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Yes, you," I said, stepping closer. "What's your name?"

"Edward," he said after a moment's hesitation. "Edward Chambers."

"And what role do you hold in this company, Edward?"

"I'm the Head of the Administrative Department," he said, his voice tinged with pride as he straightened in his seat. He puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his position.

"Is that so?" I asked, a smirk tugging at my lips.

"Yes," he said, lifting his chin higher, his pride evident.

I turned slightly, addressing my grandfather's assistant, who stood silently beside me. "We have a vacant position, don't we?"

The assistant's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good," I said, my voice icy. "Set out job postings. We'll be needing a new Head for the Administrative Department."

Edward's face paled. "What?" he spluttered. "You can't do that!"

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. "Can't I?"

"This is outrageous!" he exclaimed, his voice rising. "I've done nothing to deserve this!"

"You have no right....."

I cut him off with a sharp laugh, the sound devoid of humor. "Let me explain something to you, Edward, in case you have forgotten. I'm the President, not you. My grandfather brought me here to lead this company, not because of family ties but because he knows I'm capable."

I stepped closer, meeting his panicked gaze head-on. "My career as a model doesn't diminish my intelligence or my ability to lead. And in case you weren't aware, I also own the largest shares in this company. That alone makes me your boss."

Edward opened his mouth to argue, but I held up a hand, silencing him. "No, no. You don't interrupt me when I'm speaking. You speak only when I allow it.... and that's if I allow it."

He sat there, stunned and red-faced, as I straightened up.

I turned to the assistant. "Call security."

The assistant nodded and made a quick call. Within minutes, five security guards entered the room, their presence commanding.

"Escort Mr. Chambers out of the building," I instructed. "He no longer works here."

The guards moved swiftly, grabbing Edward by the arms.

"You can't do this!" he shouted, struggling against their grip. "This is my career! My life! I've done nothing to deserve this"

I remained calm, watching as they dragged him toward the door. "You lost your job the moment you decided to stand against me, Edward."

The guards dragged him out, his protests fading as the doors closed behind him. When the doors closed, I turned back to the table, letting my gaze sweep across the room.

"Does anyone else here, have something to say?"

The room was silent, save for the faint shuffle of papers. They all shook their heads, a few offering tentative smiles.

Then, someone at the far end of the table spoke up, their voice cautious but supportive.

"Welcome, President Morana."

The others quickly echoed the sentiment, nodding and murmuring their agreement.

I smiled, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. My voice was sharp as I spoke "Let this serve as a warning to all of you. I'm here to lead, and I won't tolerate anyone undermining me or this company. Are we clear?"

There were nods and murmurs of agreement, and I finally stepped back, letting my grandfather take the floor once more.