Life After Death by Ice Cream

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!]