Crying to mummy

Chapter Three: Crying to mummy

Courtney Savage sat comfortably behind her wide glass desk, one manicured hand resting on a leather folder, the other wrapped around a porcelain cup of tea. Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows of her office, casting a soft glow over the polished wood floors and the framed photographs lining the walls. Fashion campaigns, award ceremonies, moments of power and legacy frozen in time.

She looked nothing like someone approaching forty.

Courtney Savage was slender, elegant, and effortlessly beautiful. Her dark hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, her posture straight without stiffness. Everything about her spoke of control, of a woman who had built an empire and knew exactly how to hold it. Across from her stood her son.

Xander leaned casually against the edge of the desk, hands in his pockets, dressed far more simply than the room demanded. His presence softened the sharp edges of the space, grounding it in something warmer, more human.

Courtney smiled at him, eyes shining. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Xander lifted a brow. “I told you I’d come eventually.”

“Eventually is not today,” she said lightly. “This is the first time you’ve stepped into LEGACY since I gave birth to you.”

He shrugged. “You never needed me here.”

“That’s not true,” Courtney replied, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve always wanted you here. I just never pushed.”

Xander’s lips curved faintly. “I know.”

She studied him for a moment, then laughed softly. “And now you decide to visit one week before my fortieth birthday.”

He smiled properly this time. “I promised I’d be your driver and personal assistant for the week.”

Courtney laughed outright. “My star footballer son reduced to carrying my bags?”

“You love it,” he teased. “You know you do.”

“I do,” she admitted. “I really do.”

There was a knock at the door before she could say more.

“Come in,” Courtney called.

The door opened, and Watz, her long-time assistant, stepped inside holding a tablet. She was composed, efficient, and always alert.

“Mrs Savage,” Watz said, “the photographer, Freya Woods, is outside for her interview.”

Xander’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He looked away.

Courtney nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. Let her in… in thirty minutes.”

Watz blinked once. “Thirty?”

“Yes,” Courtney replied calmly. “That will be all.”

“Okay,” Watz said, already turning toward the door.

As soon as she left, Courtney reached for a slim folder on her desk. The name printed neatly across the top caught her attention.

FREYA WOODS

She opened it, scanning through the pages with growing interest. Her brows lifted slightly as she flipped through printed photographs and credentials.

“Hmm,” she murmured.

Xander straightened a little.

Courtney glanced up at him. “By any chance,” she said casually, “do you know a Freya Woods?”

Xander met her gaze evenly. “I do.”

“Same university,” she continued. “North Fall.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you know her personally?” Courtney asked.

“Not personally,” Xander replied smoothly. “But she’s well known. She’s very good.”

Courtney paused, watching him carefully. “Good how?”

“She’s the best photographer and fashion stylist in the school,” he said without hesitation. “Everyone knows her work.”

Courtney hummed, thoughtful. “You sound confident.”

“I am,” Xander said simply. “You should give her a trial.”

Courtney considered that, tapping her finger lightly against the desk. “Alright,” she said at last. “I’ll take note.”

Xander nodded. “I’ll see you later then. I want to take a look around the company.”

Courtney smiled warmly. “Don’t take too long.”

He leaned down and pecked her cheek, the gesture natural and affectionate. At that exact moment, there was a soft knock.

“Come in,” Courtney said.

The door opened, and Freya Woods stepped inside. The room seemed to shift, Xander turned. For a brief second, their eyes met. Then he looked away. He didn’t greet or acknowledge her. He walked straight past her and out of the office without a word.

Freya stood frozen for a moment, then lifted her chin and walked in fully, taking a seat opposite Courtney without being asked. Courtney observed her quietly.

***

The interview did not go as Courtney had expected.

Freya sat with her legs crossed, posture relaxed to the point of arrogance. She answered questions quickly, sometimes too quickly, her confidence spilling into impatience. When Courtney asked about teamwork, Freya smirked. When asked about brand image, she interrupted.

“I don’t follow rules that limit creativity,” Freya said. “I set trends. I don’t represent brands, I elevate them.”

Courtney watched her steadily. “And how do you handle criticism?”

Freya shrugged. “If it’s useful, I take it. If it’s not, I ignore it.”

There was no humility. No restraint. And beneath it all, nervousness cracked through her voice. She stumbled over words she normally owned, hands twitching in her lap, her breath uneven. By the time the interview ended, Courtney already knew her decision.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney said, folding her hands. “LEGACY won’t be able to hire you.”

Freya’s face fell instantly.

“You’re talented,” Courtney continued calmly, “but you’re not fit to represent this company.”

Tears filled Freya’s eyes despite her effort to hold them back. She nodded once. “Thank you for your time.”

She stood quickly and left. The door closed behind her.

Courtney exhaled slowly, then clicked her tongue in frustration. “Sorry, son,” she muttered to the empty room. “I tried. Trust me.”

***

Freya stumbled into the elevator, tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks. The doors slid open just as someone stepped inside.

Xander looked at her, startled. Her face was red, eyes glassy, shoulders tense. For a moment, something flickered across his expression, then it hardened. The doors closed.

Freya laughed bitterly. “This is your fault.”

Xander said nothing.

“You told her horrible things about me,” she snapped. “You ruined my interview.”

“That’s not true,” he said quietly.

“Oh please,” Freya scoffed. “You couldn’t handle being blocked, so you went crying to mummy.”

His jaw clenched.

“You’re a spoilt, arrogant, ruthless brat,” she continued, voice shaking with anger. “You think you can destroy people because you can’t take rejection.”

Xander stared straight ahead.

“I hope you’re happy,” she finished.

The elevator stopped. Xander stepped out without a word. The doors closed behind him.