Thread: Saving Elizabeth {The Gothic Temptress and Alan23}

The world headquarters of Dwight Sons spread over fifty acres of land along the western outskirts of Manchester. The administration building was a ten-storey modern, glass structure, towering over a nest of research buildings, manufacturing plants and planning divisions. It was the mother centre of the vast dynasty of Dwight Sons. The reception hall was elegantly modern, decorated in calming shades of blue, with chic furniture. To the left end of the hall was row of lifts with a private lift reserved for the President of the company, one which was rarely used. This morning though, it had been been used by the CEO of the company Elizabeth Dwight. She had walked in with a scowl marring her features, crisply dressed in a black suit and a white blouse. A thin layer of make-up expertly hid the dark circles underneath her vividly green eyes. She looked much older than her twenty eight years, strict and monotone. Nobody had dared say anything when she had stepped into the private elevator. Two facts prevented such action First, Elizabeth was the beloved daughter of Harold Dwight - the owner of Dwight Sons - and second, Elizabeth Dwight was a force better not messed with. After reaching the destined floor she had glared at her secretary, who had cowered in her leather chair and wished her boss a good morning. But of course a morning was not good enough for Elizabeth lest she had humiliated or scolded someone unlucky enough to cross her path. Maintaining that irritated air of superiority, the red-head spoke in a clipped, professional tone Hannah, I need the reports of the testing of that new shampoo. In fifteen minutes. And then Elizabeth took off towards her office without waiting for an answer. The room was huge, adorned in white and blue and fairly simple. Except a few paintings from artists she did not care to know the names of and some modest bookcases which were precisely arranged with books about international law and cosmetology, Elizabeth's office contained nothing ostentatious. A huge metallic desk was placed in the middle of the room with neatly arranged documents and reports and several telephones, behind which was a floor to ceiling glass wall - the only extravagant feature of the office. The rest of the furniture followed the colour-scheme of the building and was simple yet elegant, but not worthy of a second glance. A necessity rather than decoration. Now Elizabeth sat at the desk, her posture straight and strict, and sweeped her gaze over the papers before sitting back and relaxing for a bit. It was her ritual. As she sat casually enjoying the moment of solitude before immersing herself in loads of work, her mind drifted back - as it did frequently in these times of ease - to her earlier days. Elizabeth Dwight's birth had been a mistake. Her mother was not supposed to get pregnant so early in her career of modelling yet she was forced not to have an abortion which led her to scorn the child growing inside her. And when the baby came out, Sarah Dwight refused to spare a glance at it before fleeing the Dwight household with a heavy bank account. Anxious for the health of his first daughter, Harold hastily married his friend's cousin who was training to be a nurse. Luckily for Elizabeth, the woman adored her and together with her new husband looked after every whim of hers. It was her half-brother Henry's birth, that had pushed Elizabeth into becoming the obsessive perfectionist she was. Harold was overjoyed that he finally had a heir to his business empire someone to carry on with his legacy. Six-year-old Elizabeth was hurt that her once doting father had devoted his attention to the grooming of his new son. Whenever she claimed that she could be the one to shoulder the company, after all she was competent and older , all Harold did was pinch her cheeks, ask her to concentrate on getting married and pop out many kids and then shower her with expensive gifts. Elizabeth had one thing common with her father they never gave up. She had dedicated her life on becoming that perfect heiress, the one her father would lean on sparsely wasting time on trivial things such as boys and nail-painting. Yet Henry was still favored over her even if he got shabby marks. Bollocks, it all was. When she had graduated with impressive honors in business and marketing, she had demanded her father to let her in the family business. After a lot of pestering from her and her step-mother's side, Harold had grudgingly given up. But when he saw his daughter working day and night and doing better than many of the men of levels, he realized that his notions were outdated. And it was with pride - and a lot of force by Elizabeth - that he had made his daughter the CEO of Dwight Sons. Yet that did not sate the determined red-head. She needed at least a seat in the board of directors. She began to work harder - if that was even possible - like a woman possessed, and often scared her family who rarely saw her. Her whole life revolved around her work. There were times when she would meet some cousins and they wouldn't even recognize her. She had no friends, no life, just her work and ambitions. A soft knock sounded from her door, cutting short her pensive state, and she straightened up knowing that it was blonde-bimbo secretary. Come in, She said sharply as she put on her glasses.