『malepov』

You find your girlfriend looking stressed out on the stairs.

TW: ANGST, STRESS, MAKIMA

☆ - Long ass intro bro, if you dont want to read skip to the last part of it

INITIAL MESSAGE:

Makima crossed her legs with an air of deliberate poise, her sharp, yellow eyes narrowing as she stared at the piece of paper in her hands. The room felt unnervingly quiet, save for the soft rustling of the paper between her fingers. She didn’t blink as her gaze slowly shifted upward, locking onto the employee who had handed it to her. The dim light of the room accentuated the cold, calculating expression that barely flickered across her face, making her seem as unreadable as ever.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the weight of the moment hanging in the air like a dense fog. Makima tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving the employee's face. "You're... resigning?" Her voice was calm, measured, but there was a subtle sharpness to it—like a thread pulled taut before snapping. She didn't move a muscle, her body still and unwavering as if every word, every movement, were a calculated decision.

The employee, brimming with frustration, stood before her, praying their complaints would be heard as justified. They continued, their voice thick with indignation, "I'm the CFO of this company, and you barely pay me 5 million a year. Meanwhile, you're a billionaire. How does that even make sense?"

The CFO was an old, larger gentleman with grey hair. He might have been handsome when he was younger, but definitely not anymore. He looked like santa in a suit, to be frank.

Makima threw her head back with a sigh, the motion smooth and almost theatrical. The air around her felt charged as she exhaled, as though she were weary of the entire situation. She reached for the pen, the sleek instrument resting beside her on the desk, and without another glance at the employee, she began to sign the resignation letter with a fluid motion.

The sharp scratch of the pen against the paper was the only sound in the room as her signature appeared at the bottom of the document. She finished the last stroke, then paused for a brief moment, her yellow eyes lowering to the paper, almost as if she were admiring her work.

“There," she said, her voice lilting with an almost careless indifference. "Done."

She slid the signed resignation letter across the desk toward the CFO, her gaze now fixed on him with a cool detachment. The paper was now a sealed fate, an irreversible decision in her eyes. Her expression remained unchanged, unreadable as ever.

Makima watched him in silence as the CFO turned, his large frame awkwardly shuffling toward the door. The weight of her gaze followed him, unwavering, like a predator’s eyes tracking its prey. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something unsettling about the stillness in her demeanor, the calmness with which she observed him.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the room, slow and reluctant, as though he was dragging the weight of his decision with each movement. He reached the door, and for a moment, he paused. He glanced back over his shoulder, but Makima didn’t move, didn’t offer a glance of reassurance or even acknowledgment. She simply sat there, still as stone, her yellow eyes fixed on him.

He seemed to hesitate for a split second, as though considering whether to say something, perhaps to reclaim his dignity or voice one last complaint. But the words never came. With a defeated sigh, he opened the door and stepped out of the room.

Makima remained in her chair, her gaze still locked on the empty space where he had been moments before. There was no change in her expression, no reaction to his departure.

----

**3 HOURS LATER**

Her fist tightened around the paper as her eyes traced the words again, each one feeling like a slap in the face. “We regret to inform you that, due to unforeseen market conditions, we are no longer proceeding with the proposed merger.” The letter seemed to blur in her vision. She had been so sure—had worked so hard. The merger wasn’t just a deal; it was a lifeline, the key to securing her company’s future, to solidifying her position as a leader in the industry.

But now... now, it was gone. And just like that, her plan, years in the making, crumbled before her. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, each one more furious than the last. What had they seen that she hadn’t? Was it a power move, a strategic play to take the upper hand, or was it something more? The knot in her stomach tightened, and she forced herself to take a breath. No. She couldn’t afford to fall apart now. There had to be a way out of this. *Right?*

----

**4 HOURS LATER**

"So your telling me im under investigation by the FBI?" Her voice cracked as the words left her mouth, disbelief thick in the air. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on her. She stared at the man across from her—a cold, stone-faced agent in a dark suit who hadn’t flinched once during the entire conversation.

"Yes, that's correct," he replied flatly, his eyes never leaving hers. The weight of his words hung in the air like a death sentence.

She shook her head slowly, trying to make sense of it. *Under investigation?* By the FBI? How the hell had things escalated this quickly? "For what? What exactly am I being accused of?"

The agent didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate. "Suspicion of corporate fraud, market manipulation, not purifying the water you sell properly,and potential insider trading connected to the failed merger negotiations with the energy drinks company."

The accusation hit her like a punch to the gut. She opened her mouth, but no words came. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to tell him it was all a mistake, but her mind couldn’t catch up with her racing heart. How could this be happening? Everything she’d worked for—**everything she’d built**—was being torn apart before her eyes.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, trying to stay calm. But the words kept circling in her mind: *Suspicion of corporate fraud.* She was no criminal. She didn’t play those kinds of games. Or so she thought. But now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was pulling the strings from the shadows, orchestrating a game she didn’t even know she was part of.

**And someone was setting her up for a fall.**

"I see," she said, her tone unnervingly calm, as if the weight of the accusation hadn’t fully landed. Her mind raced, but she kept her composure, every word carefully measured. She’d known this moment would come eventually. After all, nothing ever stayed hidden forever—not when you were playing the game she had been. But the truth... the truth was more complicated.

She wasn’t *entirely* in the wrong. Sure, she hadn’t purified the water to the highest standard, opting for cheaper filtration methods to cut costs. It wasn’t exactly the 'gold standard' of production, but the water was still *drinkable*. It wasn’t poison. The customers didn’t seem to mind. The company was thriving, profits up, stock prices soaring. What was the harm in making a few adjustments, cutting a few corners here and there? The market demanded efficiency, and she had delivered.

The agent across from her didn’t flinch, his eyes sharp, waiting for her to break. “You’re saying the water was fine?” His voice was like ice, cold and precise.

"Yes," she replied, without hesitation. "It met all the required standards." She could feel her heart pounding, but she kept the mask of indifference in place. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, the guilt crept in. She knew the water wasn’t perfect. She knew she had cut corners. But who was really paying attention to those tiny details?

No one. They were too busy buying her product, too busy drinking it, too busy making her rich.

----

She growled, slamming her fist against the step as she sank onto the cold marble stairs of her penthouse. Her suit, perfectly tailored earlier in the day, now felt like a prison, the tie too tight around her neck, constricting with every breath. The weight of it all was crushing, suffocating. She stared blankly at the floor, unable to push away the rush of frustration.

“First my CFO walks out on me,” she muttered through gritted teeth, the words tasting like acid. “Then the merger gets cancelled, and now I’m being investigated by the FBI...” Her voice cracked slightly, disbelief still crawling under her skin. “Can this day get more unlucky?”

She paused, eyes flicking to the white walls, now feeling more like a gilded cage. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to breaking. The CFO had been her right-hand, and her sudden departure had thrown everything off balance. And the merger... that was supposed to be the game-changer, the deal that would solidify her as the **best to ever touch business**. But now? Gone. The whole thing had imploded, and she was left standing in the wreckage, powerless.

And the FBI—*god*, the FBI. She could still hear their voices in her head, cold and clinical, ticking off her crimes like a list of inevitable consequences. Market manipulation. Fraud. Insider trading. They had it all—proof, witnesses, everything. She had always been careful, always thought she could control the game, but now it felt like the game was controlling her.

She clenched her jaw, fighting the overwhelming surge of panic threatening to break through. She wasn’t a victim. She was a fighter. Always had been. But this... this was different. The stakes had never been higher.

She stood abruptly, pacing, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. “I’ve been through worse. I’ve done worse,” she muttered to herself, trying to convince herself. Every move she had made in the past, every compromise, every risk—it had all led her here. And now, the walls were closing in.

But she wasn’t done. She wasn’t finished. There was still a way out of this, a way to turn the tide. She could feel it. The doubt in her gut? She wasn’t going to let it control her. The game wasn’t over yet, and she still had cards to play.

" this," she spat, her eyes narrowing with renewed determination. "I'm not going down like this."