Wifey Takes Over

Lingling's office was a symphony of chaos wrapped in a pristine, minimalist design. Despite the sleek glass desk and neatly arranged stationery, the air felt charged with tension. Multiple monitors displayed spreadsheets, market reports, and projections, each filled with data that seemed determined to conspire against her.

Her fingers tapped incessantly against the desk as she scrolled through emails, her jaw tightening with every line she read. One of the stakeholders had sent a message requesting yet another change to the deal, accompanied by thinly veiled skepticism about the project's feasibility.

"Idiots," she muttered under her breath, her perfectly manicured nails clacking against the keyboard as she fired back a response. Her usual sharp focus was clouded by frustration, an unusual crack in her icy composure.

She reached for her coffee mug, only to find it empty. With an irritated sigh, she set it back down, her lips pressing into a thin line. No coffee. Of course.

Just as she was considering calling someone to fetch her another cup, the door swung open, and Freen strolled in, a coffee cup in each hand and a grin that could only belong to someone who had zero responsibilities in that moment.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Freen said, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. She placed one cup on Lingling's desk and took a leisurely sip from the other. "You look like you're about to declare war on the stock market."

Lingling barely spared her a glance, her attention glued to the multiple screens. "This deal could make or break the entire quarter, Freen. I don't have time for your theatrics."

Freen raised an eyebrow, plopping herself onto one of the sleek guest chairs. "Oh, so we're banning theatrics now? Should I alert Orm?"

That earned her a sharp glare, though Lingling's usual menace was softened by the faint dark circles under her eyes. "I'm serious."

"I can see that," Freen replied, gesturing at the chaos on the screens. "But do you think staring at spreadsheets until they cry for mercy is going to fix anything?"

Lingling sighed, rubbing her temples. "The stakeholders keep shifting their demands. Every time I think we've reached an agreement, they throw another wrench into the plan."

Freen leaned back, balancing her coffee cup on her knee. "Sounds exhausting. You know, if I were in charge—"

"You're not," Lingling interrupted, her tone clipped but lacking its usual venom. "And thank God for that."

Freen smirked, undeterred. "Fair. But seriously, you need to take a breath before you implode. Orm's going to be here soon, and if she sees you like this, she'll probably lock you in the penthouse and declare a mandatory spa day."

Lingling scoffed, though a faint blush crept up her neck at the mention of her wife. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh," Freen said, her voice dripping with disbelief. She stood, brushing imaginary dust off her blazer. "Well, I'll leave you to your spreadsheets of doom. But if Orm shows up and sees this..." She gestured at the mess on the desk. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Lingling waved her off, already back to furiously typing an email. But as the door clicked shut, she let out a long breath, leaning back in her chair. Freen's ridiculous, she thought, but she couldn't shake the lingering weight of the morning's stress.

By lunchtime, Lingling's office resembled a battleground. Sticky notes were scattered across her otherwise pristine desk, her laptop fan was whirring as if pleading for mercy, and multiple charts on her monitors displayed sharp red dips that seemed to mock her. Lingling herself was perched at the edge of her chair, furiously typing with the intensity of someone trying to fix the economy in one afternoon.

The door opened quietly, and in strolled Orm, holding a paper bag in one hand and wearing a knowing smile. She leaned against the doorframe, observing her wife for a moment before speaking.

"Let me guess," Orm started, her voice light. "You haven't eaten."

"Not now, Orm," Lingling said without looking up, her tone clipped. "I'm dealing with a crisis."

Orm stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "A crisis? Let me guess: the world is ending because the stakeholders want commas instead of bullet points?"

Lingling froze for a moment, her fingers hovering above the keyboard, before she slowly turned her icy gaze toward Orm. "They're questioning my projections," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "And their ridiculous demands are completely derailing the timeline."

Orm didn't flinch, her smile unwavering as she sauntered over and placed the paper bag on Lingling's desk. "Ling, you're brilliant. You'll handle it. But not if you keel over first."

"I'm fine," Lingling replied curtly, attempting to turn back to her laptop. "I don't need—"

Orm interrupted her by plopping into the chair across the desk and dramatically opening the bag. The aroma of fresh food wafted into the room, and Orm gave her a pointed look. "Ling, I didn't marry you just to watch you turn into a hangry spreadsheet monster. Eat."

Lingling sighed, her stern façade cracking slightly as her stomach betrayed her with a quiet grumble. "I don't have time for lunch," she muttered, reaching for her laptop again.

Orm reached over and gently tilted Lingling's chin up, forcing her to look at her. "No, what you don't have time for is passing out in the middle of a meeting. I brought your favorite, by the way. But if you're too busy, I can eat it myself."

"Don't you dare," Lingling snapped, grabbing the bag with a glare that lacked its usual venom. She opened it to find her favorite meal neatly packed, her irritation fading just a bit.

Orm leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. "You're welcome."

Lingling took a bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at Orm. "They're driving me insane, you know."

Orm shrugged. "That's what stakeholders do. It's like their unofficial job description."

Lingling sighed, some of the tension finally leaving her shoulders. "They keep changing the terms. It's exhausting. I don't know how much more of this back-and-forth I can take."

Orm leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand as she watched Lingling with an affectionate smile. "You know what I think?"

"I'm afraid to ask," Lingling muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

"I think you're brilliant and terrifying," Orm said simply. "And if anyone can whip those stakeholders into shape, it's you. But not on an empty stomach."

Lingling blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in Orm's tone. "You really think I'm terrifying?"

Orm grinned. "Completely. In the best way."

Lingling shook her head, unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."

"And you love me for it," Orm quipped, standing up and leaning over the desk to kiss Lingling's forehead. "Now, finish your lunch before I have to resort to drastic measures."

"What kind of drastic measures?" Lingling asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't know," Orm replied with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Maybe I'll email the stakeholders and tell them their concerns are delaying my honeymoon."

Lingling groaned, though there was a faint blush creeping up her neck. "Orm, you wouldn't."

Orm smirked, heading for the door. "Try me. Now eat."

Lingling watched her go, shaking her head in disbelief. I married a menace, she thought, but for the first time that day, her stress felt just a little bit lighter.

Lingling had barely recovered from her stressful morning when Orm sauntered into her office, stealing the entire atmosphere with her presence. Dressed in a fitted white blouse that hinted at her toned figure and a pencil skirt that left little to the imagination, Orm looked like she'd just stepped off the cover of Business Chic Weekly. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she approached the desk with the air of someone about to take over the world.

Lingling blinked, momentarily thrown. "What are you wearing?"

Orm smirked, placing a stack of documents on the desk. "It's called 'appropriate business attire,' darling. You've seen me in it before."

"Not... like this," Lingling muttered, trying to compose herself but failing miserably as her eyes trailed down Orm's silhouette.

Orm leaned forward, resting her palms on the desk and lowering her voice to a teasing murmur. "Distracted already, Mrs. Kwong?"

Lingling's jaw tightened as she turned her eyes back to the screen, her cheeks betraying her usual composure with a faint blush. "This isn't a fashion show. It's a high-stakes negotiation."

"Exactly," Orm replied, straightening up. "And I came dressed to kill. Figuratively, of course. Unless someone gives you trouble, then I'm keeping my options open."

Lingling shook her head, exhaling sharply. "Orm, this isn't running a café."

Orm crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't get a master's in Business Management just to run latte competitions, Ling. In case you forgot, I graduated top of my class. And, oh right, I grew up negotiating over breakfast with parents who closed billion-dollar deals like they were swapping cookie recipes."

Lingling opened her mouth to argue, but Orm cut her off with a grin. "Don't worry, love. I've got this. Just sit back and look pretty."

When the stakeholders entered the conference room, they were greeted by a vision that immediately derailed their focus: Orm standing near the presentation screen, effortlessly flipping through slides with her sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her toned forearms. Her smile was disarming, her posture confident, and her energy magnetic.

Lingling, seated at the head of the table, immediately noticed the way several stakeholders' gazes lingered a little too long on Orm. Her fingers gripped the pen in her hand tightly as she forced herself to stay composed.

The presentation began with Lingling leading, her voice sharp and precise as she laid out the projections. But midway through, one of the tougher stakeholders interrupted her, their tone skeptical. "These numbers seem overly optimistic. Have you accounted for the market volatility projections from last quarter?"

Lingling opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Orm stepped in, her voice smooth as silk. "That's a great question," she began, her smile charming. "And actually, we've addressed that in Slide 7. Let me walk you through it."

Orm clicked the remote, moving seamlessly into an explanation that was equal parts detailed and engaging. She didn't just answer the question—she anticipated follow-ups, weaving in innovative solutions that left even the most skeptical stakeholders nodding along.

One stakeholder, visibly impressed, leaned back in their chair. "You're very sharp. What's your background?"

Orm smiled modestly. "I've been around business my whole life. It's second nature."

Another stakeholder, clearly smitten, added, "She didn't mention she had such an impressive partner."

Lingling's eye twitched. She sat back in her chair, watching as Orm continued to field questions with the kind of ease that made it look effortless. The stakeholders, meanwhile, seemed more captivated by Orm's charm and wit than the actual content of the presentation. One of them laughed a little too loudly at a joke Orm made, while another adjusted their tie nervously whenever Orm's eyes met theirs.

Lingling's grip on her pen tightened. Are they here to negotiate or flirt? she thought, her annoyance growing with every lingering glance directed at her wife.

As the meeting wrapped up, Lingling watched in satisfaction as the stakeholders finally signed off on the deal. But her satisfaction quickly turned to irritation when one of the stakeholders lingered after the room cleared. They approached Orm with a smile that Lingling didn't like one bit.

"I have to say," the stakeholder began, their tone far too warm for Lingling's liking, "you were incredible today. Your insights were... refreshing."

Orm, ever gracious, chuckled and shook their hand. "Just doing my part to help."

The stakeholder hesitated, their gaze lingering. "Well, if you're ever looking for a new challenge—or anything—you know where to find me."

Lingling, who had been gathering her materials nearby, immediately froze. Her sharp eyes darted to the interaction, her irritation bubbling to the surface. In a flash, she was by Orm's side, slipping her arm possessively around her wife's waist.

Lingling smiled, but her tone was icy enough to freeze over a tropical island. "Thank you for your kind words. But she's married."

The stakeholder flushed, stammering out a quick, "O-of course. Congratulations!" before practically fleeing the room.

Orm turned to Lingling, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Was that really necessary?"

Lingling glared at her. "They were flirting with you."

"Were they, though?" Orm's grin widened as she mimicked the stakeholder's tone. "'Oh, you were so refreshing, Orm. So talented.'" She batted her lashes for effect. "Please steal me away from my wife."

"Not funny," Lingling snapped, though the faint blush creeping up her neck betrayed her usual icy demeanor.

Orm stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Lingling's waist. "You know you don't have to worry about anyone else, right? I only have eyes for you."

Lingling let out a soft sigh, her territorial energy melting into something softer. "I know. But they were... irritating."

Orm kissed her forehead, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're adorable when you're jealous, you know that?"

"I'm not jealous," Lingling replied, her tone defensive.

"Sure, Mrs. Kwong," Orm teased, her lips curling into a smirk. "Let's go home. You're whipped, and I'm hungry."

Back at the penthouse that evening, Lingling sat curled up next to Orm on the couch, her head resting on her wife's shoulder.

"I can't believe how good you are at this," she admitted quietly. "I was so stressed, and then you just... handled everything."

Orm grinned, pressing a kiss to Lingling's temple. "That's what wives are for."

Lingling tilted her head up to look at her, her expression unusually soft. "I was so worried. Watching you today reminded me why I fell in love with you."

Orm smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind Lingling's ear. "And watching you glare at those stakeholders reminded me why I married you. No one does territorial Ice Queen like you, darling."

Lingling huffed, though the corners of her lips curled into a reluctant smile. "I'm serious, Orm."

Orm softened, pulling Lingling closer. "So am I. You're brilliant, Ling. You've built this incredible empire, and I'm so proud of you. But I'll always be here to remind you that you don't have to do it alone."

Lingling's gaze flickered, and she leaned in for a soft kiss. "I'll admit... you were the real boss today."

Orm grinned. "Always have been."

Lingling rolled her eyes but couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "Don't push it."