✴ Scarlett ✴
The soft clinking of china echoed in the quiet living room as my mother set down a tray of tea. Steam curled gently from the spout of the porcelain teapot, its floral pattern a stark contrast to the tension in the air. I sat on the edge of the couch, my laptop resting on the coffee table. My presentation slides were ready, my notes were meticulously prepared. Today was the day I would present my plan to expand Matthews Couture to my parents. My father sat in his usual armchair, the weight of his presence almost suffocating. His piercing blue eyes were trained on me, sharp and expectant. My mother took her seat beside him, her expression soft but unreadable.
“Well, Scarlett,” my father said, his tone brisk. “You have asked us to give you a chance to present your plan. Let’s h
