Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 274

Chapter 274

+25 BONUS

“Nervous” doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel as I stand in the conference room in front of Arthur’s staff three days later.

My presentation–which has been painstakingly revised after my visit with Veronica–is ready to go, my laptop connected to the projector. Around the oval table sits Arthur’s multiple advisors and his extensive PR team, all waiting quietly while I fumble with my laptop.

At least Arthur is here to support me. Every time I glance at him and see him smiling at me, I feel a little better.

“Thank you all for taking the time to meet with me today,” begin, clicking to my first slide. “As you know, arts education in our public schools has been severely underfunded for years. I’d like to propose a fundraising initiative to help address this issue.”

I move through my slides smoothly, explaining my vision for a children’s day event that would raise money while also giving kids a chance to experience art firsthand. As I talk, I notice the expressions around the table softening. Even Arthur’s notoriously hard–to–impress chief of staff is nodding along.

“The budget breakdown is on the next slide,” I say, clicking forward. “As you can see

I stop short, staring at the numbers on the screen. That’s not right. These figures are completely different from what I prepared. According to this slide, I’m proposing to spend nearly twice what I had actually budgeted, with most of the excess going to “administrative costs” and “consulting fees.”

“Is everything alright, Miss Willford?” the chief of staff asks, tilting her head. The others look at each other skeptically.

“I… there seems to be an error in my slides,” I admit, feeling a sudden heat engulfing my face. “These aren’t the figures I prepared. One moment, please.”

I quickly skip ahead to the next slide, hoping it’s just a one–off mistake, but the next financial slide is also wrong. It shows that my projected donations are far higher than what I had conservatively estimated, making the whole project seem woefully unrealistic for a simple children’s day.

It’s making me look like an egotistical fool who thinks her very first public project will be the biggest success of the year. Someone at the table even chuckles at the numbers.

“Perhaps we should take a short break,” Arthur suggests, coming to my rescue. “Ten minutes, everyone?”

As the room clears out, Arthur approaches me. “What happened?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” I whisper as I frantically click through my slides. “This isn’t what I prepared. I had reasonable. numbers, I swear. These make me look like I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Arthur squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Take a breath. Check your previous versions, see if you can figure out what went wrong.”

I nod and do just that. After a few minutes of searching, I find it a version saved yesterday afternoon, right before I went to Veronica’s penthouse. The numbers there are correct.

The realization hits me unexpectedly. Did Veronica sabotage my presentation? I remember how she scrolled through my slides, how she had my laptop for over half an hour, even typed occasionally as she spoke.

She could have easily made these changes while I was taking notes or drinking my tea…

1/3

Chap

274

+25 BONUS

But as quickly as the suspicion forms, doubt follows, and that is followed by shame. Why am I being so paranoid? Would she really be that petty and vindictive? And if so, why? Just because some tabloids tried to pit us against

ach other?

Maybe I’m the problem here. Maybe I’m letting my insecurities about Veronica cloud my judgment. After all, she spent her time helping me and giving me expert advice. Why would she then turn around and sabotage me?

I manage to find an earlier backup of my presentation and restore the correct figures just as everyone files back into the room. I take a deep breath and start again, pushing thoughts of Veronica aside.

“Sorry about that, everyone. There was a technical issue with my slides, but it’s resolved now. Let’s continue.”

The rest of the presentation goes smoothly. The questions from Arthur’s team are thoughtful and constructive, not the gotcha interrogation I was dreading. By the end, everyone seems impressed.

In fact, my project is approved, and I’m even allotted a small sum from the presidential budget to host the fundraiser. I wasn’t expecting to receive anything–I intended on taking a loan from my parents if need be—but it’s a pleasant surprise for my first charity initiative.

Over the next few weeks, I throw myself into preparations for the children’s day event. With the help of Arthur’s events team, we secure a beautiful outdoor space in one of the city’s largest parks. I design activity stations for finger painting, chalk art, face painting, and various games.

I’m particularly excited about involving the children from the orphanage where I grew up. These kids rarely get to attend special events, and I’ve arranged transportation to bring them all to the park for the day.

As the event date approaches, my days become a whirlwind of confirmations, last–minute changes, and endless checklists. I’m in my makeshift office at home–I’ve arranged a corner of my studio for a work station–finalizing the layout for the face painting station when my laptop pings with a new email.

The subject line reads simply: “Hypocrisy.”

Frowning, I open it, expecting some kind of spam. Instead, I find a single paragraph of text, no greeting, no signature:

“How dare you pretend to care about public school arts education when you’re enrolling your own child in an elite private school? Wellington Academy costs more per year than most families in Ordan make in three months. You’re just another rich hypocrite using poor kids as a photo op to make yourself look caring while ensuring YOUR child never has to suffer the consequences of underfunded schools. If you really cared, you’d put your money where your mouth is and send your precious Miles to public school like the rest of us have to.”

I stare at the screen, completely dumbfounded. The sender’s address is just a string of random numbers and letters at a generic email provider–clearly created just to send this message.

My first instinct is defensiveness. I do care about public education! Just because Miles is going to Wellington doesn’t mean I don’t want to improve conditions for all children. And who is this person to judge my choices for my son?

But beneath the indignation, a tiny seed of doubt takes root. Is there some truth to the accusation? Am I a hypocrite? Should I be sending Miles to public school if I really want to support the system?

Furthermore, how did they even find out about where Arthur and I are sending Miles for school? We’ve kept the entire thing under wraps, ensuring that he doesn’t get singled out.