My ruthless boss had no idea i was an heiress

By Emma

I parked my eye-catching car in the private parking lot of Textil Norte—a name that, on its own, didn’t say much; it merely suggested that the company was perhaps located in the northern part of the city. However, Textil Norte was the parent company of dozens of textile firms.

It had under its wing the most iconic brands of the moment and many classic jeans brands that have stood the test of time.

My name is Emma; I’m 23 years old and a brand-new lawyer. However, that wasn’t acceptable to my family—my father had decided that I had to be a designer.

My father forced me to study design because he thought it was more appropriate for me to study fashion design than law.

My family owned another textile empire.

Although they weren’t direct competitors of Textil Norte, they also had a foothold in the market with some premium brands.

They weren’t direct rivals because their specialty was a different type of clothing. However, they had launched their own jeans brand—less classic, more daring, and with a different style.

That had been my distinctive touch.

Of course, I studied design, as my father had decided, but I felt I was cut out to run the family business—not to design garments that ended up being labeled as a “second brand” because they didn’t meet the expectations of our main brand.

I decided to fight for what I considered to be part of my legacy.

My father was the director, my older brother the assistant director, and I was a designer whom they wouldn’t even allow to design what my artistic mind created.

Without their knowledge, I began studying law.

They were convinced they could control my future and indoctrinate me so that one day, perhaps, I might be in charge of the design department at Textil MyE.

Ironically, the “E” in MyE stands for my name.

They call me a rebel.

I’m not, but my father, who’s old-fashioned, doesn’t believe in women running companies.

My brother Marcelo takes advantage of that absurd mindset.

Nevertheless, Marcelo, my brother, made sure to place Liliana, his wife, in a strategic and important position in our company, while openly supporting all of our father’s decisions.

My brother has always tried to make me feel small, whether at the company or at family gatherings; however, he hasn’t succeeded—I’ve always stood up for myself. “You never

learned how to behave,

” he declares when I respond, defending my point of view.

At every family dinner, it seems that giving my opinion on anything at all unleashes chaos.

He makes a big fuss over everything I say, and if I don’t speak up, he criticizes my personal tastes, the way I dress, or the music I listen to.

My father lets himself be manipulated by him, and even though every month my father deposits a substantial sum—or rather, used to deposit—with his stern gaze, they always tried to silence me.

I showed them my degree in fashion design.

That gathering was epic.

The next day, the deed to an apartment appeared on my desk.

Everyone seemed happy, but when I showed my law degree six months later, the family uproar was incredible.

There were no congratulations; it was as if I’d committed the worst of crimes. “You

don’t understand how the hierarchy works in this family.”

My brother’s voice infuriated me.

“What does that have to do with anything? I have two degrees, and that’s much more than you ever achieved.” “I won’t

tolerate your insolence,

” He said, as if the 15-year age gap between us gave him the right to control even my thoughts and, of course, dictate every word I spoke.—You won’t

amount to anything at the company; I’ll make sure of that.

—What are you going to make sure of?

I stood my ground in front of him.—

You’re the same as always—rebellious and unaware of your place.

—My place? I have two college degrees! Your wife only has a high school diploma, and you put her in a management position. I have nothing against Liliana; I’m just pointing out the difference

.” “Difference?

” By then, my mother was crying silently, and my father was looking at me with accusing eyes.

They really thought I was the one stirring up trouble.—Yes

, you feel threatened by my degrees; you’re afraid I’ll expose your mediocrity.

Smack!

A slap rang out, turning my face away.

My mother covered her mouth with her hands.

My father, unfair as always, smiled coldly, and his words cut like daggers. “You

brought this on yourself

.” “I brought it on myself? What did I bring on myself? Why can’t you be proud of my degree?

Why can’t I work where I belong?

” I said as I wiped a trickle of blood running down from my lip with a napkin.

“You’ll work wherever I say.”

My brother had his way, and I know it’s not a matter of money, because the amount deposited into my account every month is substantial.

This was about power.—“No

, not anymore.”—

“Hahaha. What are you going to do? Kick and scream? Cry? Quit?

” I took that provocation literally, without thinking too much about it.

- You know what? Yes, I’m quitting. You’re a violent, insecure man, and you’re going to regret it when you need me. “You’re

the one who’s going to come crawling back,

” my brother continued, with great arrogance.

I got up and headed for the door. “Emma!

” my mother called out.

“Let her go; she’ll be back soon.”

my father told her, while my sister-in-law never once looked up to defend me, even though we’d always gotten along well.

My brother sat back down, his arrogance intact.

That brings me to this moment.

What am I doing at Textil Norte?

I’m not spying or anything like that.

I simply wanted to show my family what I’m capable of.

I know it’ll bother them even more if I stand out at such a well-known textile company.

Yes, I’m rebellious and maybe a little vindictive.

Through a friend, I learned that Textil Norte needed a secretary for the sales manager’s secretary—indirectly, I’d also be that same manager’s secretary.

The entire sales office ran according to that famous boss’s whims.

There, they couldn’t demand anything of me, because no one expected much from me, except that I do my job correctly.

There were no conflicts of interest.

I had taken it upon myself to send a telegram and officially resign from my position at Textil MyE. “What did you do?

” my father shouted when he received the telegram. “I resigned

—I thought that was clear.” “Come

here immediately.” “I can’t

—I’m working.”

I lied to him at that moment, because I hadn’t started working at Textil Norte yet.—You won’t

be getting your salary.

It wasn’t a salary they were depositing—it was a small fortune—and I, anticipating problems, prepared for that moment by saving and investing every peso that landed in my account.

They always looked down on me; they don’t know who they’re dealing with.

I can’t wait to see their faces when they find out I work at Textil Norte.

The interview to be chosen from among three dozen applicants was easy; I know all the ins and outs of the textile industry, and as a lawyer and fashion designer, no one could beat me.—

“Why doesn’t someone with your credentials aim for more?

” asked the HR manager.

That was the only question I didn’t expect.—I’m

young and just out of school; I want to keep learning, and since I’ve been studying so much, I don’t have much experience.

“You’re truly wonderful. Let’s hope Mr. Ricardo Candiles appreciates your humility and we don’t lose you because of his impulses

.” “Impulses?

” “Don’t worry—he’s a bit reckless and…”

Lowering her voice, she continued, “He

doesn’t have the best temper.” “That’s

not a problem—I don’t think his temper is any worse than my father’s.”

We ended up laughing.

The thing is, I can’t keep my mouth shut, which is why I don’t know how long I’ll last at this company.

I hope it’s long enough for my family to find out that I work here.

Kika was the sales manager—our boss—and she was also the direct and immediate secretary to Pupy, Ricardo Candiles, the sales manager.

There were five of us in that department, including Kika.

I found the combination of my coworkers’ last names really funny:

Verónica Cerezo, Catalina Manzano, and Mirta Naranjo.

I introduced myself using my mother’s last name—to everyone, I’m Emma Fonda.

Kika wasn’t the nicest boss ever, and she made a lot of mistakes, but I couldn’t afford to correct her.

I soon became friends with my coworkers—excluding my boss, of course.

I hadn’t seen Pupy since I started working there, so I don’t know him personally.

Actually, I saw him once at an event, where the cheeky guy was accompanied by a famous model, even though he’s married.

I’m counting on the fact that he didn’t see me, since that night he seemed to have eyes only for Grace Obban, one of the hottest models of the moment.

It’s also unlikely that I’d get involved with a textile heiress.

At the office, we’re all dressed in the uniform provided by Textil Norte.

A black, straight skirt—several centimeters above the knees—a white shirt with an impeccable cut, and a tailored jacket with an enviable fit.

I admit that, although I’d prefer to wear my own clothes, these garments were sophisticated and fit like a glove.