I didn't need to hear the completion of what Emily was trying to say, to know that I was in serious trouble.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck" I repeated inaudibly.

"Oh my God, what have I done?" I asked myself.

The very first time, I'm meeting the man who had once been a mentor and I've ruined it with my anger.

I felt like slapping myself until the pain could match the uneasiness that thrummed through me.

"I just asked Richard-fucking-Wellington to exit his very own elevator in his very own company or die riding with me. By God Sofia, you are a fool" I echoed those words through me, but it did nothing to alleviate the guilt surmounting in my chest.

Will I blame life this time around? Or will I blame those who make it a living hell with their quick to remind status?

The truth was that, this was all me. I did it. I allowed my anger to score a number on me.

"How could you? This was your chance. Finally for once in your life, your dreams held a chance of coming through, but you just had to ruin it, didn't you?"

By God, I hated my conscience. Couldn't it see that I was already regretting every word I spoke in the last 5 minutes? Must it add to my guilt?

Some people say their conscience (or is it a general fact) is a small still voice barely discernible from the one yelling wrong. It's the voice of reason aiming at the right against the wrong.

But my own conscience isn't still neither is it's voice– small. Now, it feels like it's holding a megaphone in my mind screaming all the wrongs I managed to accomplish with the very words I uttered. And with it, a knife, slowly dragging the point through my heart, drawing blood.

Richard Wellington may no longer be a mentor, but I still loved his designs. There's still a part of me that longs to accomplish what he has done in the fashion industry.

I may not follow him, but I still go through his posts and I will be lying if I say that I'm not looking forward to the new collection. And it would mean the world to me if I can be a part of its success, even if it's just by typing words on a page.

Working under him would be a privilege and I fear I've messed that up.

"No, you haven't. Just apologize. Sincerely ask for forgiveness. Tell him you don't mean it" the voice in my head kept saying.

I once read that our minds know us more than we do ourselves. That if you are a winner, like you always remind yourself that you are one, then your mind will always strive, gear and think of ways for you to keep securing wins.

But if you are someone who feeds the mind with negative thoughts,

"I can't do this"

"I'm such a loser"

"I'm a failure" and the likes.

It will get to a certain point where your mind will accept and imbue every thought with such negativity. Instead of thinking up ways out of a difficult situation, it will keep reminding you that it's impossible to escape. That as a failure, why should you try to liberate yourself from such a situation?

Our minds know our stories far more better than we can write or tell them. It is the only companion we truly feel safe sharing our secrets and interacting with. In the darkest of times, it is all we've got and mine… mine knows just how much my future is hinged on securing this job.

Believe me, I want nothing more than to grovel before the high and mighty Richard Wellington until he accepts my apology, but I simply can't.

I opened my mouth severally to say the words, "I'm sorry", but I just couldn't form them.

Each time I tried, the voice of wrong , like a miniature copy of the devil in red and black with a pointy tail and holding a trident perched on my left shoulder. It will boom,

"Why should you apologize?"

"What wrong did you commit in trying to share a ride with him?"

"Besides you didn't even know it was him and even if you did, does that excuse his attitude?"

"Remember he started it, all you wanted was a ride up, he didn't have to be a bitch about it"

On and on, it went, silencing the other voice like that of an angel in white and gold with a halo ringed on his head and perched on my right shoulder.

Oftentimes, I wonder if both voices make up my conscience. If this tug war between right and wrong is truly their doing and if it is, then why do people often liken conscience to that small still voice like that of the angel's?

Or maybe our conscience is the willingness to pick a side in the tug war. To gently walk towards whichever side feels more appealing to one.

You know what, scratch all that. I don't even think I'm making any sense or maybe this uneasiness and guilt is reeling my thoughts to things I can't fathom. Things I don't understand nor can I comprehend.

And yet the truth remains that both of us are wrong, him most especially. I get that he is the CEO, but he won't lose that title if he shares a ride with me as he's doing now.

Why do people like to make things difficult? Why do they strive to bring out the demons we try to hide?

Had he behaved like a gentleman, wewouldn't be in this web of awkwardness. Had he politely asked me to leave, I would have done that without question, but for him to flaunt that privilege of his like a whip, that was what pissed me off especially after I tried reasoning and pleading with him.

He is a human being like me, his status in the society or simply born with a privilege doesn't elevate him more than being human. So, why then does he and others like him think themselves a higher being simply because life played fair with them?

When my life hadn't evolved into these caprices of sorrow and pain, I once watched an animation 'Avatar: The last Airbender'.

A certain misunderstood character, very handsome if I might add. I even remember having a crush on him then, he said,

"Some of us are born lucky while some of us are lucky to be born"

The character I'm talking about is the true heir of the Fire Nation, "Zuko". He said those words when he compared his life of strife where each stage is a test of worth, to the easygoing one his sister 'Azula' had. Where their father's favor came easy, even her powers seemed effortless.

I felt those words, not necessarily then. But years later, when I stumbled from the girl who had everything to one who had to labor as a slave for basic amenities.

And that brings me to another factor. The other reason why I no longer believe in God. A passage from his word says,

'The Lord is slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression, but he will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of fathers upon children, upon the third and upon the fourth generation.'

When I came across that passage, I asked myself, "why should someone innocent like me pay for the crimes my fool of a father committed?"

Why would a God who is said to be slow in anger and abounding in steadfast love punish an innocent child for the sins of her parents? It just doesn't make sense.

And why should I keep praying to such a God, particularly when it seems my life is a testament to those very words?

Honestly, I never saw my thoughts extending to such concepts, especially in a matter that simply involved being the bigger person.

I was still battling on what to do when, 49.....50, and the elevator screeched to a halt momentarily causing me to lose my balance. I found myself falling backwards towards the same man I was yet to decide if he deserved my apology.

A ring of pain quaved through me as I felt my head connect with the metal wall of the elevator.

I barely had time to curse the wall and the man who allowed such incident to happen when I heard that voice I was already beginning to hate,

"See you in a bit… Sofia"

He even had the effrontery to grin at me. The nerve.

And the way he said my name, like the syllables were filth in his tongue.

If this wasn't a sign, I don't know what else is. This man is a monster who doesn't deserve my apology.

"And I would sooner die than let my lips form such words", I mumbled as I stepped out of the elevator, still pressing a hand on the part of my head that throbbed.

My grin vanished and the thoughts that geared on how to make Sofia suffer, braked as my steps echoed in the hallway.

Michael Patel, the Marketing Director rushed towards me.

"Sir! Sir! Could you halt for a moment, I need to run something by you. Please Sir, I have been waiting all morning."

"Just keep everything for the board meeting, I don't have time for any of it now" I called back, halting him from coming any further.

Apparently, Vera wasn't joking. Men and women formerly seated in the conference hall rose as they saw me pass.

"Had I really accepted that number of applications?" I found myself asking as I waved and smiled at them even when all I wanted was to banish them all from my sight.

"Well, I'll have to make this brief. I barely have two hours before the board meeting. God, I might just die before the estimated time" I hissed, regretting why I didn't appoint anyone to handle the interviews.

"Welcome Sir, can I take your coat?" Vera asked, trying to match my stride.

Not even caring to spare her a glance, I snapped, "No!, and please tell me you finally did something for that crowd, I just saw in the conference hall."

Still trying desperately to match my stride and talk to me as I hurried along, she panted,

"Your suggestion worked excellently, Sir. Harry was able to take them on a brief tour, before entertaining them with some facts about our esteemed establishment. That's what they're still doing in fact."

I smiled in spite of myself as an idea took form in my mind, for Claire's sake I decided to spare my incompetent secretary.

"Go back to the conference hall and tell Harry that he has 30 minutes to round up everything." She was glad of the errand, as she straightened, standing akimbo and panting like a bull who just ran through a stampede.

"Wait" I called as she made to leave, the eagerness plain in her hurried strides. I'm sure her face squeezed with frustration before she turned, masking her best smile as she asked, "Sir?"

"Yes, one more thing, make sure to tell him that I request that he rewind the questions for the sake of… someone in particular" I said smiling as I saw a bewildered Sofia get led into the conference hall.

"Yes Sir, and please before I forget, there's something I think you should know_"

"If it has nothing to do with that crowd loitering my conference hall with their presence, then I suggest you hold it in for a moment longer. By the way, who came with that idea? Couldn't they be taken to the other conference hall? Just hurry, so they can leave, remember exactly thirty minutes" I said, walking off already.

I barely acknowledged her rejoin as I threw my tinted glass doors open, not even bothering to admire the tag,

"Richard Wellington"

CEO

I didn't even have time to admire my decor. Or be entranced by the view offering the city's skyline. Skyscrapers shimmering like a thousand mirrors bathed in the morning sun.

I removed my suit and hung it behind my Herman Miller embody chair. Resting a few inches away from the chair was a small cooler, no doubt Claire's salad was inside.

I was about to go through some files before the phone rang. Vera rushed in and mouthed, "it's Madame Dame" still gripping the office telephone.

"Yes Ma, he is finally free and I'm sure he'll speak with you now" she kept saying as she walked back to her desk, throwing me a pleading look.

Grumbly, I picked up my own telephone connecting the line and cutting Vera's off.

"Good morning, Madame Dame, how is her fashion majesty doing this morning?"

The Dame Dynasty was the only fashion brand that could hold a candle to our achievements. And that is mostly because they have been in the business at least a decade before the Wellington Empire was founded.

They have also been our rivals for more than a century, until I took over the affairs of the Empire and found a way to turn the rivalry into partnership. A feat that shocked the whole world. And they haven't even seen anything, featuring some of Dame iconic fashion trends during our collection launch will be the real shocker. Even to everyone in the Wellington Empire, as I'm yet to tell them of that development.

With their headquarters in London, they used the same naming convention as the British. Where each successor must go by the name 'Dame' in accordance with the decree issued by the founder and very first Dame — Madame Dame Victoria.

"Oh boy you can keep your compliments to yourself, I expect an answer when I call not to be put off like a third class citizen!" Madame Dame Elena, the current CEO yelled.

We may be partners, but she never lets me forget who is the boss. Most people in her company, especially her council already think that partnering with a rival is the greatest mistake the aged Dame has made during her administration and they're already conniving for another succession.

That is where we come in, every Dame before passing the mantle must leave a legacy project, be it the launch of a new brand, market expansion, or in Madame Dame Elena's case, a partnership that will help the brand grow. But first, she has to prove to her council that it's not a mistake and we, the Wellingtons, are going to help her convince them.

"You see Madame Dame, I doubt you'll still think that when you receive the package I'm sending your way" I said, already racking my brain on a gift worthy of the 5th Dame of the Dame Dynasty.

"A package?"

Motivated by the intrigue in her voice, I continued glad that I had her exactly where I wanted.

It's no secret how women loved gifts and flattery. It just works every damn time.

"Surely her Ladyship knows that I, Richard Wellington, don't take it lightly with my business partners. Consider the package a token of my appreciation and my sincere apologies." I continued.

"For your sake, I really hope that whatever is contained in this package of yours would be worth my taste."

"And her Esteemed hurts me by her words, making me wonder if I have ever disappointed her or failed in meeting her standards?" I queried, genuinely hurt that she could question my taste. But then again, I'm sure she's just flaunting her superiority… once again.

"It's true you are yet to disappoint me, but as you know there's always a first and like I said, I hope this won't be it" she mused, clearly enjoying this.

I, on the other hand, not so much. I hate being downplayed like that. The way she phrased her first statement with "yet" as if it was only a matter of time before I disappoint her. I honestly don't blame her, we haven't known each other for long and I'm yet to let her know that Richard Wellington hardly disappoints.

"I suppose I will let you be the judge of that after receiving the package. And if you don't mind me asking, why exactly did her Ladyship call, am I wrong to presume that she just wants to hear my voice?"

"Oh ever the proud boy, you must think you are irresistible and I know why"

Sensing that she needs me to ask why, I obliged.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's simple, you are yet to meet a girl who doesn't worship you. And I know for certain, that one day when you meet that girl and fall in love with her and she doesn't reciprocate your love, then you will realize that not everyone falls for your charm." she said like a mother talking to her child.

"I doubt that" was all I could bring myself to say.

"Oh don't you worry, I'm sure that one day you will remember my words. Then about why I called, I will get my secretary to email you an address and time. I expect you to be there tomorrow, so we can talk about some things. Have a nice day."

And she ended the call, not even giving me a chance to argue about the meeting I'm certain she had already arranged even before she dialed my office. Or the fact that I will never have any cause to remember her words.

One, I doubt I would live long enough to do so and two, there's no girl in this whole wide world who's immune to Richard Wellington's charm.

"Me, Richard Wellington in love, impossible" I scoffed at the thought.

Soon, I will have to set her right about our agreement and the way she talks to me like I'm just another employee in her company. But first things first, I have to arrange her package.