The Life Of Estella Estella's Intro

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I'm just telling the start

This will be the life of estella

Estella

Gaming and trash-talking my boss with my online crush was my only post-work joy—until the day we met in real life. The CEO walked up, poker-faced, waving his phone at me… Welp. I’m fired. Just as I finished my presentation in the meeting, I got a message alert. I glanced at it, then looked back at my boss—serious as ever, but his ears were completely red… “Skirt too short. Pay docked.” My father fell ill, our corporation was on the brink of collapse, and I had no choice but to accept the acquisition. But on the day of the negotiation, the other party didn’t even glance at the contract before tearing it up: “I have only one condition—marry me.”

Estella

Gaming was my escape. Every night after slogging through endless spreadsheets, meetings that could’ve been emails, and a boss who made Voldemort seem cuddly, I logged in and let loose. Trash-talking players, roasting fake executives, and laughing until midnight with my online duo partner—my secret crush—was the only joy I had left. We never exchanged real names. No faces. Just strategy, sarcasm, and weird 2 a.m. confessions. Until one day, we agreed to meet. Just coffee, no pressure. I walked into the café and froze. Standing there, in a sharp suit and a look of cool indifference, was him. My boss. My actual boss. The CEO of the company I worked for. And in his hand? His phone—displaying our chat. Our savage memes. My not-so-subtle comments about his haircut. And, oh yeah... a certain spicy voice note where I called him a "control freak with a god complex." Welp. I'm fired. Or so I thought. Because the next morning, I gave the most important presentation of my life, holding back panic while his unreadable face stared me down from across the boardroom. Just as I wrapped up, a message popped up on my phone. I read it. My hands shook. “Skirt too short. Pay docked.”

Estella

I glanced at him. Same stoic face. But his ears were flaming red. And just when things couldn’t get worse—my father collapsed. Our family corporation teetered on the edge of ruin. With no one else to turn to, I had no choice but to agree to a corporate takeover to save everything. I walked into the negotiation room, ready to sign away everything. But he didn’t even look at the contract. He just tore it in half. “I have only one condition,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “Marry me.”