Back in Control

Preparations for the company's New Year's annual meeting were drawing to a close. I held the final seating chart, my fingertip suddenly freezing in place. I had just confirmed this chart yesterday, but now it looked completely different. The seat originally reserved beside the founder, Philip Green, now boldly bore the name Sophia Lynn. That was the seat I had taken for three years—the exclusive spot Philip himself said was reserved for me. Clutching the seating chart, I stormed straight into Philip's office without knocking. The paper crumpled in my fist, my knuckles whitening, rage burning inside my chest. "Philip Green, what's going on with my seat?" I slammed the paper down on his desk, my voice heavy with accusation. My voice trembled slightly with emotion as my eyes fixed firmly on him. Philip glanced at the seating chart, then calmly looked away. He didn't even glance at me again, his fingertips tapping idly on the desk. "It was Sophia who suggested having key investors sit next to me for easier coordination." His tone was flat, without a trace of apology. The name "Sophia" was spoken casually, almost affectionately—like a sharp needle plunged straight into my heart. "Convenient for coordination? Then what about me?" I stared at him in disbelief. "This seat was meant for me." I stepped closer, desperate to find a flicker of feeling in his eyes. "Rachel, this is business." He put down his pen, voice edged with impatience. "The annual meeting affects the company's fundraising for next year—don't be stubborn." He frowned, annoyance plain in his eyes, as if I were making a needless scene. "Business?" A chill ran through me. "So, to you, our relationship isn't even worth a seat?" Her voice held a faint catch, the sweetness of the past sharply contrasting with the coldness now. Philip Green frowned, said nothing further, and picked up the document to flip through it again, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation. The sound of the pages turning was piercing, as if dismissing all my emotions. "Philip Green, look at me." I bit my lip and spoke, my voice laced with a last hint of defiance. He finally looked up, his eyes cold and indifferent: "Anything else? I'm busy." "So busy that you don't even have time to explain to me?" I clenched my fist. "That seat is the one you promised me we'd share every year at the annual meeting." "Times have changed," he said. He avoided my eyes. "The Company has grown too much now; we can't just rely on personal feelings." "Personal feelings?" I gave a bitter laugh. "So, in your eyes, all these years of our relationship mean nothing?" He didn't respond, lowering his head again. The tapping of his fingertips grew more urgent, as if trying to drive away someone like me—a "trouble." I stared at his indifferent profile, anger and disappointment crashing over me like a tide. Tears instantly welled up in my eyes, but I held back from letting them fall. I have to confront him about this face-to-face. Biting my lip, I turned and left, slamming the door so hard the wall shook. As I reached the corner of the corridor, I bumped into Philip Green's assistant rushing by. "Ms. Rachel, are you alright?" The assistant looked troubled, hesitating to speak. "Was the seat next to Mr. Green personally decided by him?" I asked bluntly. After a moment of hesitation, the assistant whispered, "It was Manager Lynn who brought it up to Mr. Green. Mr. Green agreed on the spot and told me not to tell you." "I understand." I swallowed the bitterness in my chest and said, "Please send me another copy of the annual meeting agenda." The assistant left promptly, and I leaned against the wall, feeling a chill run through me. He not only changed the seat but also deliberately kept it from me.