Page 2 of Tempting My Nemesis

"Zoe," he begins, his tone cautious. "I've been reviewing the latest financials." My stomach knots as I brace for his next words. "I have some concerns about Archer Innovations' stability."

I force a smile into my voice. "I understand your hesitation, but we have several new projects in the pipeline that will turn things around."

"Look, the numbers don't lie. The risk is too high for us right now."

Desperation claws at my throat. "Please, Mr. Reynolds, give us a chance to prove ourselves. We're on the brink of something great."

"I'm sorry, Zoe," he says softly but firmly. "We're pulling out." The call ends, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief.

I set the phone down with trembling hands. Failure presses down on me like a physical force. My fingers automatically reach for the cold coffee mug, gripping it tightly as if it could somehow absorb my frustration. I set it aside with more force than necessary, the ceramic clinking against the desk. Trying toregain control, I begin organizing the papers scattered across my desk, but my hands feel heavy and mechanical.

A sinking sense of dread settles in my chest, quickly followed by anger—anger at myself for not being able to save the company and anger at Mr. Reynolds for dismissing us so easily. I want to scream but manage to swallow my emotions down where they can’t surface.

This can't be happening,I think desperately.I've tried everything…

Panic claws at me from within, but I fight to keep it in check.I run through a mental list of contacts, hoping to find another potential investor or a last-minute solution, but each name leads back to the cold truth: there are no more lifelines left.

I'm not giving up.

I grit my teeth and push back against the tears threatening to rise. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. A wave of uncertainty washes over me, but I push it aside, reminding myself of the mission at hand. I need to find clarity and focus, to reignite the fire that once drove me.

I stand and walk to the windows, placing my palms against the cool glass. The city below moves at a breakneck pace, indifferent to my struggles. I press my forehead against the glass, feeling its coldness seep into me. The towering buildings make me feel small, powerless—feelings I've avoided for so long.

My fingers trace idle patterns on the glass, leaving faint smudges behind. The simple act is calming, almost meditative. I watch the clouds drift by, imagining how easy it would be to let go of everything—to leave the pressure and responsibilities behind.

“Zoe,” Laura’s voice calls from behind me, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the cityscape.

“Yeah?” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

“We need to discuss the payroll issue,” she says softly.

“I know,” I respond, but my mind is elsewhere.

Maybe I’m not strong enough for this. Maybe I was wrong all along.The thought strikes me like a physical blow.Dad, I wish you were here… I don’t know how to do this without you.A lump forms in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall.

Laura steps closer. “Zoe, you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I can handle it,” I say through gritted teeth. “I have to.”

Her hand touches my shoulder gently. “It’s okay to ask for help.”

“No.” My voice is firmer now. “I can’t fall apart. Not now.”

She sighs but doesn’t push further. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

As she leaves, I press harder against the glass, grounding myself. Giving up isn’t in my nature.

I’ve made it this far on my own,I remind myself.I can’t afford to rely on anyone else.Yet deep down, I know the burden is too much to carry alone.

Despite feeling emotionally drained, work beckons me.No more doubts,I tell myself.

The city outside continues its relentless pace as if mocking my struggle. But instead of feeling defeated, a spark of defiance ignites within me.

I force myself away from the window, taking a deep breath to steady my racing heart. The cool glass leaves a faint chill on my palms. I return to my desk with renewed purpose, flipping open my contact list. No matter how slim the odds, I can’t afford to overlook any possibility.

The fire in my chest burns brighter now as I draft a new set of emails. “This isn’t the end,” I whisper to myself. “I won’t let it be.”

I start with investors I hadn’t considered before, crafting each message with care. Every keystroke is deliberate, each email sent with a sense of urgency and determination.

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