Think a title for:Rose
I reluctantly opened my eyes with the sound of my alarm buzzing off, a strange heaviness lingered within me, casting a shadow over the prospect of going to work. But my reverie was abruptly shattered by the piercing ring of my phone. Catherine's name flashed on the screen, compelling me to answer despite the trepidation that gnawed at my insides.
Reluctantly, I picked up the call, my voice betraying a hint of apprehension as I acknowledged Catherine's request. The words spilled from her lips with a tone that brooked no opposition, demanding my presence in her office a full hour before our usual meeting time. An icy chill ran down my spine, and I instinctively knew that this encounter held the promise of turmoil.
Anxiety gripped me as I entered Catherine's cabin, my pulse quickening with each step. Her piercing gaze fixated on the laptop screen, intensifying my unease. I approached hesitantly, feeling the weight of her expectations bearing down upon me.
Catherine gestured for me to take a seat, her voice sharp and devoid of any warmth. Without preamble, she pointed at the presentation displayed on the screen, her tone cutting through the air like a blade.
“There are several discrepancies in this presentation, Rose.” She declared, her voice dripping with frustration. “Fix the alignment, ensure uniformity in the fonts, and for heaven's sake, concoct a more compelling conclusion. These, interns can't do one job I ask.” I'm pretty sure she made the new boy do her work again. “I require a summary as well. You have half an hour. The subsequent thirty minutes are reserved for you to enlighten me about every intricate detail of this project.” 
My heart pounded in my chest, and a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. The task at hand seemed insurmountable, given the minuscule window of time and my complete unfamiliarity with the product. Panic surged through my veins, threatening to overwhelm me. I had no choice but to embark on this Herculean endeavor.
With trembling hands, I delved into the work, each passing second a cruel reminder of the ticking clock. I tried to absorb the essence of the presentation, desperately attempting to make sense of the unfamiliar jargon, I'm not really familiar with cosmetic ingredients, so it’s harder for me to understand who these makeup products stand apart from the already popular pieces. The minutes slipped away with reckless abandon, and my progress lagged far behind the demands imposed upon me.
An hour elapsed, and frustration coursed through my veins as the presentation remained frustratingly incomplete. A sense of helplessness washed over me, engulfing me in its suffocating embrace. But before I could gather my thoughts, Catherine swooped in, seizing the laptop from my grasp. Her eyes blazed with disapproval as she scrutinized the unfinished work.
“This is utterly unacceptable, Rose!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with disdain. “You have managed to make an absolute mess of it. I can't believe I entrusted you with something so crucial.”
Silently, I bore the weight of her accusations, knowing that defending myself would only invite further scorn. Anger welled within me, a seething storm of frustration, as Catherine's incompetence became evident. She fumbled through the entire presentation, her lack of understanding glaringly exposed before the client's bewildered gaze. It was laughable how our senior is so incompetent to mess up the presentation when the entire managerial department watched. I longed to interject, to set the record straight, but my position as her subordinate left me powerless to challenge her authority.
The tension in the room intensified as the client's gaze shifted from me to Catherine, confusion etched across their faces. Catherine's attempts at salvaging the presentation only served to exacerbate the situation, as her limited knowledge of the product became glaringly apparent. The once-coherent storyline disintegrated into a jumble of disjointed facts and figures, leaving the client bewildered and frustrated.
I bit my lip, fighting back the urge to interject, to rectify the glaring mistakes that threatened to overshadow the entire meeting. But my position as Catherine's subordinate silenced my voice, leaving me seething with frustration, my anger simmering beneath the surface.
Catherine's voice faltered, a mix of panic and irritation tainting her words as she struggled to navigate the wreckage she had created. Her attempts to place blame squarely on my shoulders reeked of desperation, a feeble attempt to deflect attention from her own incompetence. I could no longer contain my frustration.
“What is this joke Ms. Stiles? Do you think this is a joke?” the client said the evident. “I didn’t not expect to ever witness as horrifying as this presentation is.” 
Everyone stayed wordless.
“I'm sorry Mr. Richardson, on behalf of my subordinate. I assigned them for my assistant, turns out I still need to teach them a lot.”
The meeting descended into chaos, as Catherine's attempt to shift blame onto me only served to further tarnish her own reputation, Richardson was extremely insulted while everyone began to look my way. I seethed with anger, my fists clenched, yet I remained silent. 
I would’ve been better if I never came to help her in the first place. Tension hung thick in the air, and my palms grew clammy with anticipation. The room buzzed with the energy of impending chaos. I had poured my heart and soul into the presentation, desperate to salvage what I could from the mess I had inherited yet I'm being blamed for the disaster it turned out to be.
“You can't honestly expect me to shoulder the blame for this, Catherine,” I retorted, my voice laced with suppressed anger. “You snatched the presentation away without even giving me a chance to explain or correct any mistakes. Now the client is left bewildered by your lack of knowledge and professionalism. If would’ve done you good if you at least tried to do just any research about the products.”
Catherine's face flushed with a mixture of indignation and embarrassment; her pride wounded by my bold assertion. She clenched her fists, her voice dripping with venom as she lashed out.
“How dare you question my authority!” she spat, her voice quivering with a false sense of superiority. “You're just an inexperienced junior who couldn't handle a simple task. This failure rests solely on your shoulders.”
I took a deep breath, my frustration bubbling to the surface as I met her gaze head-on. I refused to let her belittle me any longer.
“This isn't about authority, Catherine. It's about competence and accountability,” I replied, my voice steady with conviction. “You were the one who lacked understanding of the product, yet you blamed me for your own shortcomings. It's time you took responsibility for your actions.”
A tense silence enveloped the room as our words hung in the air, the weight of truth bearing down upon us. The client watched the exchange, their trust in Catherine visibly shaken. I stood my ground, my frustration transformed into a resolve to no longer tolerate the mistreatment and unjust blame that had plagued me for far too long.
In that moment, as the room buzzed with a mixture of disappointment and realization, I vowed to reclaim my voice, to stand up for myself and demand the respect I deserved. It was a small victory amidst the chaos, but it fueled my determination to forge a path where my worth was acknowledged and my frustrations would be heard.
Feeling a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, I returned to my table, determined to focus on fixing Catherine's presentation despite the lingering frustration that consumed me. The atmosphere in the office seemed heavier, the tension palpable, but I pressed on, determined to deliver a polished outcome.
I immersed myself in the task at hand, my concentration was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of my phone. The call came from the head office, and the mention of the new CEO's desire to meet me sent a chill down my spine. I knew deep down that this meeting was likely a consequence of the disastrous incident during the client presentation.
I confided in Jill, seeking her advice and support. Her words echoed in my mind, encouraging me to stand by my decision and face the consequences head-on. Though fear gnawed at my insides, I mustered the courage to make my way to the top floor of the building, where Mr. Pierre's office was located.
The penthouse exuded an air of luxury, but my attention was quickly diverted by a sound that chilled me to the bone. It started softly, a low moan that gradually escalated in volume and intensity. My curiosity got the better of me, pushing me closer to the source of the disturbing noise.
To my horror, I witnessed Catherine emerging from Mr. Pierre's office, her appearance dishevelled and her composure frayed. My mind struggled to comprehend the scene before me — they were having an affair. At the workplace. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, fuelling a mix of shock, anger, and a strange sense of betrayal.
Frozen in place, I watched as Catherine adjusted her skirt and tried to compose herself. It was clear that I had stumbled upon a secret that was not meant for my eyes. Tempted to retreat and pretend I saw nothing, I couldn't tear myself away from the scene. I needed answers, closure, and perhaps even a weapon against Catherine's unjust treatment of me.
With a deep breath, I decided to bide my time and wait on the nearby couch until the secretary arrived. It felt like an eternity, my mind racing with a flurry of thoughts and emotions. Finally, the secretary entered, and I was called inside Mr. Pierre's office.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I entered the room, determined to maintain my composure. Mr. Pierre sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable. My gaze flickered briefly to Catherine, who seemed to be fighting to regain her poise, her eyes avoiding mine.