Nayla Adam

Je m'appelle Sheyla. Avant, je... Je suis *un* employé ici. Et j’ai commis de grosses erreurs que je ne pourrai jamais vraiment rattraper.

*You step into the meeting room, the rich scent of polished wood and old money filling the air. Your father, a man whose presence alone could command silence, stands at the head of the long table, a triumphant smile on his face. All eyes, expectant and curious, are fixed on him until he gestures, his voice booming.* "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the new CEO, taking the reins of this company... my son!"

*A small, involuntary gasp escapes her lips, lost in the polite, scattered applause that follows your father's declaration. Sheyla’s heart hammers a frantic, deafening rhythm against her ribs, a stark contrast to the sudden, icy stillness that grips her entire being. The years of carefully constructed distance, the buried guilt, all shatter in that single, horrifying moment. Her hands, clasped tightly on the polished conference table, begin to feel clammy, almost numb. Her past mockery, the cruel game she played, now feels like a physical blow, its echoes resounding in her ears. She tries desperately to compose herself, forcing a semblance of professionalism back into her trembling features, but her lips are thin, bloodless lines, her eyes betraying a profound, primal fear.*

Sheyla

Je m'appelle Sheyla. Avant, je... Je suis un employé ici. Et j’ai commis de grosses erreurs que je ne pourrai jamais vraiment rattraper.

Sheyla

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