One Night Mistake… Now I Carry the Mafia Heir

Chapter 99: 99/The Millimeter Race

Chapter 99

Stephanie’s Point of View

I froze in my tracks, feeling an overwhelming urge to pour the hot cup right over his head and burn away his wretched arrogance. Instead, I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached, stepped forward with measured strides, and carefully placed the cup onto his polished desk. Standing tall, I spoke in a tone I fought to keep cold and professional: "I apologize, Mr. Vinceti. I wasn’t familiar with the location of the machine, and it took some time to ask the staff."

He cast a brief glance at the cup, then fixed his sharp, hawkish eyes on my face once more. Leaning back into his luxurious chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and said coldly: "In this place, a single minute makes the difference between success and failure, and I do not tolerate excuses. Remember that well."

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my bag heavy on my shoulder, and replied concisely: "Understood."

He pointed his slender pen toward a massive black folder made of premium leather, which had been left on the edge of his desk with deliberate carelessness. He ordered firmly: "Take this file. It contains the artistic designs and initial patterns for the upcoming season’s clothing and footwear collection. I want you to study the dimensions of the lines and the fabric measurements, match them with the shoe molds, and redraw the charts with precise measurements worthy of our company’s name."

I reached out and took the heavy folder, quickly flipping it open. The pages were filled with complex drawings of dress silhouettes, fabric cuts, and highly detailed specifications for the luxury shoe molds tasks requiring immense focus to avoid even a millimeter of error. Lifting my head, I said steadily: "Very well, I will begin working on it immediately."

He tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing me with a glint of mockery and challenge in his eyes. He then delivered a directive that left no room for debate: "I want the complete work ready on my desk at exactly one o’clock this afternoon. Not a single minute late, and without a single error in the pattern measurements."

My eyes widened in utter disbelief, and I quickly glanced at my phone screen; it was 8:30 AM! That meant I had less than five hours to finish a technical task that would normally take an entire day to coordinate accurately. Gripping the edge of the folder tightly, I protested: "But Mr. Vinceti, this timeframe is far too short. It’s impossible to recalculate the clothing and footwear dimensions with such precision!"

He rose from his seat, his imposing, stately frame commanding the space. Advancing until only his desk separated us, he looked into my eyes with an eerie stillness and said in a low, stern voice: "The word ’impossible’ does not exist in my company’s dictionary, Miss Miller. If you are incapable of handling the pressure of working in luxury fashion, the exit door is always open to you."

My pride flared fiercely, and the heat of defiance surged through my veins. I would not let him break or humiliate me on my first day, nor would I give him the satisfaction of seeing me surrender or helpless before him! Lifting my head high, I locked my gaze with his cold eyes and said in a strong, resolute voice: "The work will be on your desk at the designated time, Mr. Vinceti."

I turned completely around and walked out of the office with long, rapid strides, the heavy file pressed against my chest. I could feel his sharp gaze boring into my back until I firmly shut the door behind me.

I let out a searing exhale to release the intense tension and hurried toward the outer desks. Spotting Lily busy organizing fabric samples and designs, I walked over to her and asked in a rush: "Hi Lily, where can I sit to start working?"

She turned to me and pointed toward a small desk situated in the corner of the hall, speaking with an air of sympathy and fatigue: "You can sit right over there; that’s your desk. I see the tyrant has buried you in files and patterns from the very beginning!"

I sighed in frustration, placing the file on the desk: "He wants all these measurements and revisions ready by one o’clock this afternoon!"

Lily gasped in shock and lowered her voice: "What? That is pure madness! He is testing you severely. Listen, Vinceti is one of the most famous luxury fashion and footwear designers in America, and he is pathologically obsessed with perfection. Every tiny detail in the curve of a dress, a fabric cut, or a shoe mold angle is a matter of life or death to him. That’s why he inflicts this madness on everyone."

Clicking the mouse aggressively, I said with determination: "I will succeed at this."

I sat back in my chair, booted up the computer with blind speed, and began comparing the drawn sample measurements against the production blueprints. For the next several hours, I completely isolated myself from the outside world. Thoughts of Alex, Cedric, and the morning’s confrontation vanished from my mind; nothing existed before me except pattern lines, shoe dimensions, and fabric specs.

My fingers flew across the keyboard at a terrifying speed, my eyes glued to the screen, as a cold sweat broke out on my forehead from the sheer concentration and staggering effort required to align the charts.

Time flashed by like lightning. I was racing against every passing second, my heart rate accelerating as the deadline loomed closer.

At exactly 12:55 PM, I hit the final save button and printed out the sheets and report, my breath catching and my body trembling secretly from the profound exhaustion.

I gathered the papers in neat order, stood up with determined, steady steps, and headed straight to the director’s office. Reaching the door, I raised my wrist; it was precisely one o’clock!

I knocked with confidence and walked in calmly.

He was sitting in his usual stance, examining some leather samples, and raised his head to look at me with his unyielding, stern features.

I advanced majestically, laid the flawlessly organized papers on the desk before him, and said in a defiant, confident tone with a proud smile gracing my face: "The revised fashion and footwear dimensions, along with the complete report, are on your desk at exactly one o’clock, Mr. Vinceti."