Life After Death by Ice Cream

Six days, I reminded myself. You've got six days to fix this.

With that troubling thought in mind, I finally drifted off to sleep. Unfortunately, the peace didn't last long. I was suddenly jolted awake by an obnoxious stream of sunlight flooding my room, and then—

"Rise and shine, Amara!" My mother's voice rang out like a foghorn, followed by the unceremonious swish of curtains being yanked open. "Today's the big day!"

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head, trying to block out the world. Why do mornings even exist?

"Come on now, no time to be lazy!" Helena insisted, her cheerful tone grating on my nerves. "You've got to be up and ready for your first day at the company! And don't forget to look your best. It's important to make a good impression."

Good impression? I peeked out from under the covers, squinting at her. I look like a potato with bedhead.

Seeing that I wasn't moving fast enough for her liking, my mother marched over to the bed and started tugging at the blanket. "Let's go, let's go! You're a Lyselle; show some enthusiasm!"

I forced a smile that was more of a grimace. "Yay… I'm so excited…"

"That's the spirit!" she chirped, completely missing the sarcasm. "Now, get up, get dressed, and let's show the world what you're made of!"

With one last encouraging pat on my shoulder, she left the room, practically skipping out the door. I stared after her, blinking in disbelief. Is she always this peppy in the morning? No wonder I turned out the way I did…

After a few more seconds of wallowing in self-pity, I dragged myself out of bed. Alright, Amara, time to face the music.

I shuffled into the bathroom, taking my time with the shower. I needed to wake up properly before I could even think about dealing with today's madness. After twenty minutes of standing under the hot water, I felt marginally more human. I wrapped myself in a plush towel and headed to my walk-in closet.

Opening the door, I was greeted by the sight of my newly acquired wardrobe. Gone were the horrendously flashy clothes that looked like they'd been designed by a colorblind unicorn. In their place were elegant, sophisticated outfits that actually made me look like someone who knew what they were doing.

I rifled through the options, finally settling on a tailored burgundy blouse paired with high-waisted black trousers. The blouse hugged my figure in all the right places, the rich color contrasting beautifully with my violet eyes. The trousers were sleek and modern, giving me an air of confidence that I desperately needed. I completed the look with a pair of black pumps and a simple gold necklace.

Damn, I thought, catching a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. I actually look… good.

My dark hair, which I'd always considered too plain, now looked glossy and luxurious, falling in soft waves around my shoulders. The outfit accentuated my slender frame, and for once, I didn't look like a spoiled heiress playing dress-up. I looked like a woman ready to take on the world—or at least the family business.

"Not bad, Amara," I muttered to my reflection, turning this way and that. "Not bad at all."

After a few more minutes of admiring myself, I decided it was time to head downstairs for breakfast. You've got this, I told myself as I walked out of the closet. It's just another day.

In the dining room, my parents were already seated, waiting for me. My father, Gerald, was reading the newspaper, while my mother was sipping her morning coffee. They both looked up as I entered, and I could see the surprise in their eyes.

"Well, look at you!" My father exclaimed, setting the paper aside. "You look like a proper businesswoman, Amara."

"Yes, very impressive," my mother added, beaming with pride. "This is exactly the image we need to project. Strong, confident, and ready to take on the world!"

I smiled and took my seat, trying to ignore the fact that my stomach was doing somersaults. "Thanks, Mom, Dad. I'm just… doing my best."

"And that's all we ask," my father said, nodding approvingly. "You've got a big day ahead of you, but we have faith in you. You'll do great."

I wasn't so sure about that, but I appreciated the sentiment. Breakfast was served— simple but elegant spread of pastries, fresh fruit, and coffee. We ate in relative silence, the tension of the upcoming day hanging in the air. My parents were clearly trying to be supportive, but I could see the concern in their eyes. They knew how important this was for me, for the family, for the company.

After we finished eating, it was time to head out. I took a deep breath as we walked to the car, reminding myself to keep it together. No pressure, right? Just the first day at the family company. What could go wrong?

The drive to Lyselle Media was uneventful, but as soon as we pulled up to the building, I felt a wave of anxiety crash over me. The towering structure was sleek and modern, with large glass windows reflecting the morning sun. The company's logo an elegant script "L" intertwined with a film reel was emblazoned on the front.

Okay, here we go. I stepped out of the car, my heels clicking on the pavement as I followed my parents inside.

The lobby was bustling with activity, employees rushing about with determined expressions. As soon as we entered, though, the atmosphere shifted. People stopped what they were doing to stare at us at me. I could see the curiosity and, in some cases, the skepticism in their eyes.

"Isn't that Amara Lyselle?" I heard someone whisper. "What's she doing here?"

"Maybe the company's finally going under," another voice muttered. "She's probably here to cling to Erik's coattails."

I bit back a scowl, keeping my face neutral as we made our way to the reception desk. Great. They already think I'm a disaster waiting to happen.

The receptionist, a young woman with a bright smile, greeted us warmly. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Lyselle. And good morning to you, Miss Amara. It's so nice to see you here."

"Thank you," I replied, doing my best to sound confident. "I'm here to learn more about the company."

My father stepped forward, clearing his throat. "We're here to introduce Amara to the team and give her a tour of the company. She's taking an interest in the family business and wants to learn the ropes."

The receptionist nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! I'll notify the department heads. I'm sure everyone will be thrilled to see Miss Amara taking an active role."

Thrilled, huh? I could practically hear the skepticism in her voice. But I forced a smile and nodded, pretending not to notice.

As we moved through the building, my parents took turns explaining the different departments and their functions. Lyselle Media was a massive entertainment company with multiple branches film production, music, digital media, and more. The tour was thorough, with each department head offering a brief overview of their work.

The Film Production department was the heart of the company, responsible for producing blockbuster movies and TV shows. The head of the department, a no-nonsense woman named Clara, gave me a sharp look as she explained their latest projects.

Next, we visited the Music division, where artists and producers worked to create the next big hit. The department head, a man with an impressive beard and a love for vintage vinyl, spoke passionately about their work. But I couldn't help noticing the way he kept glancing at me, as if expecting me to burst into flames at any moment.

Then there was Digital Media, a rapidly growing branch focused on streaming services, social media, and online content. The team here was young, energetic, and clearly driven by the fast-paced nature of the industry. But even they seemed wary of me, as if my mere presence could somehow jinx their latest viral campaign.

As we continued the tour, it became painfully clear that most of the employees didn't take me seriously. I could hear the whispers as we passed by people speculating about my intentions, about whether I was just here to chase after Erik, or worse, to meddle in things I didn't understand.

"Do they think I'm a joke?" I muttered under my breath as we left the Marketing department.

My mother, who had overheard me, gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't let them get to you, Amara. You just need to prove them wrong. Show them that you're serious about this."

"Right," I mumbled, trying to muster up some confidence. Easier said than done.

Finally, we ended the tour in the executive wing, where the big decisions were made. My father pointed out his office and mentioned that I would have a desk nearby for the duration of my "training period." The implication was clear this was a test, and everyone was watching to see if I would pass or fail.

As we wrapped up the tour, my parents exchanged a look. "Well, Amara," my father said, "I think that covers everything. We'll leave you to get settled in. Remember, we're here to support you, but this is your journey. Make the most of it."

"Thanks, Dad," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'll do my best."