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6.88% Life After Death by Ice Cream / Chapter 17: next-level villain plotting

Chapter 17: next-level villain plotting

I couldn't believe it. They were actually listening to me. Me the walking disaster they thought would tank the company the second I stepped foot in here. The room was full of people who were clearly questioning reality, looking at me like I'd just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Some looked confused, others stunned, and a few outright suspicious. As if at any second, I'd reveal I was playing an elaborate prank. Honestly, I kind of expected it too.

"Well," Gerald said, clearing his throat, "it sounds like we have a plan. Let's give it a try."

The murmurs of approval that followed were slow, hesitant. Almost like they couldn't believe they were agreeing with me. I could practically feel their brains short-circuiting.

The system, of course, had a field day. [Oh, this is priceless! Look at their faces! They're waiting for you to light the whole company on fire, but nope you actually didn't screw up. Amazing!]

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smirk. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," I muttered under my breath.

[Seriously, you handled that like a pro! Okay, maybe a confused pro who's still trying to figure out what's going on, but hey, progress is progress.]

My parents exchanged a look one of those "Are we actually impressed right now?" looks. I could hardly believe it myself.

"Good work, Amara," Helena said, a bit more warmth in her tone. "Let's see how it unfolds."

I nodded, trying not to look too smug. "Thanks." Inside, though? I was doing mental gymnastics.

[So, what's the next move, Captain Genius? They're actually listening now, so no pressure or anything.]

Before I could answer, Gerald clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's break for lunch. We'll regroup afterward."

Thank. God. I needed food and a moment to process the fact that I hadn't spontaneously combusted in front of the entire board.

Sitting in the cafeteria, I was mostly pushing food around on my plate while my brain spun in circles. Sure, I had handled that meeting without falling flat on my face, but Elara was the bigger issue. If I didn't figure out how to get her on board, all my "corporate success" meant nothing.

[Oh no, I know that look,] the system chimed in, interrupting my thoughts. [You're scheming again. That's the face of someone about to try something clever.]

"More like the face of someone who's making it up as she goes along," I thought back.

[Same difference. What's the plan for our dear Elara, anyway? You gonna win her over with your charming personality?]

I snorted. "Yeah, because that's worked out so well so far. She hates me. But I need her, so... I'll have to be sneaky about it."

[Sneaky? Oho, I love sneaky. What are we talking? Bribery? Threatening her with spoilers from her favorite show?]

"No," I thought, stabbing a piece of lettuce. "I'm going to recommend her for a position here at Lyselle Media. And she won't even know it was me."

[Whoa, that's some next-level villain plotting. I'm impressed. But you realize you actually have to prove yourself first, right? You can't just be like, 'Hey, I saved the company from one mess, now let me recommend people,' without everyone thinking you've lost your mind.]

"I know that!" I snapped in my head. "That's why I've got to keep up this 'competence' thing. Make myself seem like a valuable asset. Once I've done that, I can drop Elara's name without anyone raising an eyebrow."

[Smart. You're actually starting to sound like you know what you're doing, which, for the record, is a little terrifying. What happened to the girl who was about to alphabetize her way into obscurity?]

I groaned internally. "She's still here, just trying not to screw everything up."

[And doing a fine job of it so far, might I add.]

"Thanks," I thought sarcastically. "But this isn't a cakewalk. I've got to make sure this plan works without anyone finding out I'm orchestrating it. If they catch wind that I'm pushing for Elara, they'll assume it's just more drama."

[Ooooh, I see. So, you're playing the long game. Build up your rep, sneak her into the company, and sit back as everyone marvels at how brilliant you are.]

"Exactly," I thought with a mental smirk. "And no one will even suspect I had anything to do with it."

[Well, damn, look at you. A full-on corporate puppet master. I'm so proud.]

Back in the office, I sat at my desk, staring at the files I'd already alphabetized. Okay, organizing things was one thing, but how was I supposed to jump from that to fixing major projects? It wasn't exactly a smooth transition. And, oh yeah, there was still the whole "Elara hates my guts" thing.

You got this, Amara. Fake it till you make it.

I drummed my fingers on the desk, thinking. If I could keep the momentum from that meeting and throw out a few more decent ideas, I'd have some leverage. Then, I could subtly slide Elara into the conversation without raising any suspicions. Like a corporate ninja.

[So, you're really going for it, huh? Playing the corporate chess game, building trust, and then bam! Elara's in. I'm kinda proud.]

"You should be," I thought. "It's not easy being this devious."

[It's also not easy when half the company still thinks you're gonna crash and burn.]

"Thanks for the reminder," I replied dryly. "But hey, if they're already expecting me to fail, I can only go up from here, right?"

[That's... one way to look at it. Or, you know, you could still fail spectacularly, and they'll be like, 'Well, we saw that coming.']

"Gee, you're such a motivator."

[Hey, just keeping it real.]

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Elara would never see it coming. She'd be walking into the company with no idea that I was the one behind it all. And I'd be one step closer to not completely tanking this weird reincarnation game.

[You're definitely scheming now. I can practically feel the evil laugh brewing.]

"Oh, it's there," I thought with a smirk. "It's just waiting for the right moment."

[Well, don't let me stop you, Dr. Doom.]

With a deep breath, I straightened up and mentally prepared myself. This was going to be one hell of a ride, but if I could pull it off... well, maybe I'd stop being the disaster everyone expected me to be.

"Let's do this," I thought, half to myself, half to the system.

[You got it, evil mastermind.]


Chapter 18: Corporate Bullsh*t

The afternoon slipped by faster than I could've hoped. No fires, no disasters, and no one barging into my office to ask if I needed adult supervision. Honestly, it was a small miracle. It seemed the whole company was too busy taking bets on how long I'd last before accidentally nuking the place to actually bother me.

At some point, I even started feeling... competent? Weird.

By the time I glanced at the clock, the sun was dipping below the horizon. I was on the verge of congratulating myself for not blowing it when my parents materialized in the doorway of my tiny, people-free office. My dad had this look, like he wasn't entirely sure I hadn't burned something important while he wasn't looking.

"Amara," he said, and wait was that a smile? "It's time to go home."

His voice held this unmistakable tone of relief, like, Well, thank the gods, she didn't level the building. Mom, ever the more controlled one, gave me a nod. Which, from her, was basically a standing ovation.

"You did good today," she said, a little stiffly but with genuine approval. "Really good."

I blinked, barely suppressing a snort. Compliments from these two were rarer than a unicorn riding a skateboard. "Uh, thanks," I replied, mentally bracing for the "but" that was sure to follow. You know, like "Good job... but don't think we're not expecting you to screw up tomorrow."

As we left the building, I could hear people whispering behind me.

"Did you see that? She didn't screw anything up today."

"Yeah, it's super weird. It's like she's been body-snatched by someone who knows what they're doing."

"I dunno, maybe she's just holding out. Let's give it a day or two then disaster will strike."

I barely resisted the urge to give them all a double-handed middle finger. Instead, I settled for an eye roll so big it could've been seen from space.

We piled into the car, and the ride back to the manor was blessedly quiet. Twenty minutes of silence and the occasional hum of the engine, with me trying not to overthink every little thing. By the time we reached the gates, night had fully descended, and the manor stood looming and eerie like something out of a gothic novel.

Inside, dinner was already laid out. Because of course, in rich-people-land, food just appears when you need it. And thank god, because after playing CEO Barbie for a day, I was starving.

Dinner was... pleasant? Which was a shock in itself. Usually, meals with my parents involved passive-aggressive commentary on my life choices or thinly veiled lectures on how to not ruin the family business. But tonight? They were weirdly chill, like I hadn't almost driven the company into an iceberg less than 24 hours ago.

As we wrapped up the meal, Dad leaned back, fixing me with a look that I couldn't quite read. Suspiciously thoughtful. "Amara, you did well today. Your mother and I are... proud."

Proud? What alternate dimension did I stumble into, and how do I leave immediately? I stared at him, not sure if this was some kind of elaborate test. "Uh, thanks?"

Mom gave one of her rare, faint smiles. "We've been talking," she said, exchanging a glance with Dad. "And we thought, given how well today went... you deserve a reward."

A reward? I wasn't even sure how to process that. My mind went haywire, cycling through all the possibilities. A new car? A vacation to some private island? A giant bag of money with a dollar sign on it?

No. Stay focused, Amara. You've got bigger fish to fry.

This was my moment. I had to play this right.

"Actually, there is something," I said, trying to sound casual while my brain was screaming DO IT, DO IT NOW.

"Oh?" Dad raised an eyebrow, already looking wary.

"I've been thinking a lot about the future of the company," I began, keeping my tone light and nonchalant. "You know, now that I'm getting more involved." (Totally not planning anything devious, no sir.) "And I think there's someone we should bring on board. Someone who could be a real asset."

Mom tilted her head slightly, curiosity creeping into her expression. "Who?"

I paused, just for effect. Gotta let the drama build.

"Elara Whitfield."

The name dropped like a bomb in the middle of the table. For a second, both my parents just blinked at me like I'd grown a second head.

Dad squinted at me. "Elara Whitfield?" He said the name like it was some obscure riddle he was trying to figure out. "Who the hell is that?"

I tried not to roll my eyes. Of course they didn't know her. Elara wasn't exactly A-list famous yet. "She's an up-and-coming actress. Not super well-known, but she's insanely talented. I think she could really bring something new to Lyselle Media."

Mom raised a brow, clearly skeptical. "An actress? We've never heard of her."

"Yeah, well, that's kinda the point," I said, keeping my voice steady. "She's fresh. New talent. The kind of person who can inject some energy into the company's entertainment division."

Dad exchanged a glance with Mom, his expression unreadable. It was that classic parent look that screamed, Are you hearing what I'm hearing?

Silence stretched between the three of us, thick enough to cut with a knife. I could practically see the wheels turning in their heads. Maybe they were trying to figure out if I was serious or if I'd hit my head on something and started spouting nonsense.

[Wow, bold move,] the system chimed in, its voice oozing amusement. [Going for the unknown actress angle. Didn't see that coming.]

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," I thought back sarcastically.

[Now the fun part waiting to see if they think you've lost your mind.]

"Thanks, system," I muttered internally. "That's really helpful."

The tension around the table ratcheted up a notch, and I could feel my parents trying to decide if they wanted to shoot down my idea or just let it hang awkwardly in the air for a few more minutes.

"Well," Dad said finally, "we'll... look into it."

Mom nodded slowly. "Yes, we'll do some research."

Translation: Who the hell is Elara Whitfield, and why is our daughter recommending some random actress to us?

I nodded, trying not to look too relieved. "Thanks. I really think she's worth considering."

[And the award for Best Performance in Corporate Bullsh*t goes to… Amara Lyselle! Bravo!]


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