Transmigrated: I Became My Nemesis's Woman novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Ivy is mine

Xander suddenly shut the document in his hand with enough force to make the entire room jump.

The sound echoed through the conference room like a gunshot, causing several people to visibly flinch.

One intern almost dropped his laptop.

Taylor closed his eyes. Another soul has departed.

Xander slowly lifted his gaze toward the employee standing before him.

"There is not a single proposal here," he said coldly, "that convinces me any of you deserve your salaries."

"..."

Somewhere in the back, a manager looked moments away from tears.

Taylor silently prayed for everyone’s survival.

The employee standing near the screen nearly choked on air. "S-Sir, we can revise it—"

"Revise?" Xander repeated calmly, which somehow made him even scarier. "This proposal looks like it was written by people who lost the will to live halfway through."

Taylor immediately lowered his head to hide the way his shoulders were shaking.

Not from fear. From trying not to laugh. Because unfortunately their boss was roasting everyone with the same expression one would use while discussing weather updates.

And just when everyone thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Xander suddenly went silent.

The abrupt change immediately made the entire room tense up.

Taylor blinked in confusion.

"Uh...?" he muttered under his breath. "What is Boss staring at so intensely?"

Everyone cautiously followed Xander’s line of sight and then the phone in his hand.

For a few long seconds, he simply stared at the screen, his expression unreadable.

The atmosphere grew so quiet that someone’s stomach growling in the corner sounded loud enough to echo. Until suddenly—

Xander stood up, causing every employee to instantly straighten in panic.

"Let’s call it a day," he said calmly. "You may all go."

Everyone: "..."

"Woah... did we just survive a war?" the presenter muttered weakly, stumbling against the wall while clutching his chest like he had narrowly escaped death.

The poor man looked one step away from fainting on the spot.

Around him, the rest of the employees looked equally traumatized.

One person had already opened a food delivery app, determined to celebrate surviving the meeting.

Another was dramatically lying face-down across the table, whispering, "I saw my entire life flash before my eyes..."

Taylor, too, let out a long sigh of relief before awkwardly straightening his tie and hurrying after Xander.

Even while following behind him, Taylor kept a cautious distance, almost like a frightened intern trailing behind a lion.

After all, the crisis might have ended for everyone else. But for him? His boss was still walking right in front of him.

***

Meanwhile, inside his suite at the Plaza Hotel, France continued staring at his phone screen, waiting for Ivy’s response. But when a full minute passed without a reply, he finally decided to call her.

It was Ivy.

Her smile. Her eyes. Her teasing expression.

"Don’t you want this, France?" the illusion whispered softly.

Something inside him snapped.

The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud as he suddenly grabbed the woman by the waist, flipping her onto the bed. Without warning, he thrust into her hard enough to draw a gasp from her lips.

She whimpered softly before wrapping her arms around his neck, desperately kissing him while he moved against her relentlessly.

"Say my name," he growled hoarsely, his movements becoming rougher with every passing second. "Cry it out loud, Ivy."

Even now, all he could see was her.

France’s obsession with his stepsister had long crossed the line into something dark and twisted. And over time, that obsession had only grown worse.

The mere thought of another man touching Ivy the way he wanted to made his chest tighten painfully.

No. Ivy was his.

At least, that was what he convinced himself.

The room soon filled with ragged breathing and muffled moans as he continued losing himself in the fantasy, refusing to stop even after they had both reached their peak.

By the time the woman finally passed out from exhaustion, France calmly stepped away from the bed, his expression already cold again.

Without sparing her another glance, he tossed a stack of money onto the mattress before walking out of the room, his mind still consumed by only one person.

Ivy.