Disapproval

TRISTIN'S POV

The morning sun poured into my office, I sat at the head of the conference table, addressing a room full of senior executives. The discussion was in full swing, numbers being thrown around, strategies debated, and I was in my element.

"Alright, let’s move on to the next quarter projections," I said, pointing to the pie charts on the screen.

Just as Megan started her presentation, the door burst open. There stood my stepmom—though I simply called her Mom. She had an air of drama about her, and today was no exception. The room fell silent as everyone turned to see what the commotion was about.

"Tristin! We need to talk," she announced, her voice carrying the weight of a royal decree.

I sighed internally, knowing there was no stopping her once she was on a mission. "Mom, I’m in the middle of a meeting," I replied, trying to keep my tone respectful yet firm.

She waved a hand dismissively. "This is more important."

The executives exchanged glances, some hiding smiles. They k