Wedding Planning 1

Intern Kicks Off CEO’s Wedding Planning with Potato Chips

My fiancé’s new intern actually suggested serving chips and soda to the CEO of a multi–million

dollar company’s wedding guests. Could you believe it?

And the whole company, mind you, cheered for it. They called it “innovative and cute,” “so creative.”

I instantly shot it down, only to be mocked as “old–fashioned” and “out of touch with young people.”

To protect our reputation, I secretly swapped back to the high–end menu. The wedding, in the end, was a smashing success.

But the very next day, the intern went live on TikTok, crying and accusing me of “workplace bullying” and “stealing her credit.”

And my fiancé, Alexander, didn’t say a word, tacitly agreeing with every single one of her

accusations.

Clients cancelled contracts, partnerships ended, our company’s reputation was dragged through the

mud. Employees, jobless and furious, unleashed all their anger on me.

I was beaten black and blue, subjected to a brutal online hate mob. My parents collapsed from stress and were hospitalized, and I ultimately drowned, my heart overflowing with bitter hatred.

Reborn into this life, I’ve learned my lesson.

No stopping them, no advising them, no saving them.

A ridiculous “snack banquet“?

I’ll make sure it crashes and burns, spectacularly. It’ll be an absolute nightmare.

I sat in my familiar office. The intern’s proposal, signed by my fiancé, lay quietly on my desk.

I coldly sneered and sold off all my shares.

“This time,” I muttered, “I’m just here to watch the show unfold.”

It was only early autumn, but the lake water was already ice–cold, biting. I felt my lungs squeeze, the last bit of air forced out of my body.

I drowned three days after that wedding.

Bruised and battered, with claw marks from my ‘colleagues‘ still stinging my face.

The laid–off employees, furious and jobless, screamed that I deserved it, that I’d brought it all upon myself.

The mob beating, the online hate, the contract cancellations, the shredded agreements because of one phrase: “I won’t approve the snack banquet.”

Chloe cried a river of fake tears, claiming I bullied her, stole her brilliant idea.

Alexander watched me surrounded, trapped, and didn’t utter a single word.

–

all

My soul floated above, watching, as my father burst from his hospital room, his arm still connected to an IV drip, pulling my mother down to their knees to beg Alexander for one more chance for me.

I died so quietly, yet I became the top trending topic:

**[B*tch Finally Gets What She Deserves, Good Riddance]**

Then, I opened my eyes again. I was sitting in the familiar conference room. The intern, Chloe, was in the corner, suddenly speaking.

Her eyes sparkled, her voice cloyingly sweet: “All those fancy dishes are so old–fashioned! Who still eats dry roast beef, rubbery lobster, and boring champagne at a wedding?”

“How about we switch to fried chicken, chips, and soda instead? It’s more down–to–earth, and it looks young and vibrant!”

The conference room fell silent.

The next second, laughter erupted.

“Hahaha, how novel!”

4:06 am D

“You know, young people really prefer this stuff.”

“That’s hilarious, I’m all for it!”

The sensation of the lake water choking me was still so vivid. I clutched my chest, gulping down the long–lost air.

I turned my head. Alexander and the various shareholders were all looking at me impatiently.

Everything was exactly as it had happened in my memories.

I… I was reborn?

Gently closing my folder, I quickly accepted this gift of fate, smiling faintly:

“I actually think soda with fried chicken could create quite the vibe.”

Chloe nodded, beaming:

“See? That’s what I’m saying! Who eats fancy stuff anymore? It’s so greasy~”

She was wearing a frilly, sweet–looking dress, like the mean girl from a high school drama.

I remembered her from my past life, too. She’d pop up softly, a knife in her hand, plastered with pink stickers, but it would stab you right where it hurt most.

Alexander leaned back in his chair, lazily, his gaze–full of doting affection for her:

“Sounds interesting. The client said they wanted something ‘unique, right? This definitely fits the

bill.”

A chaotic circus of approval erupted as the group laughed and applauded.

I lowered my eyes, then nodded:

“We can give it a try!””

As soon as I said that, the entire room seemed to relax, as if they’d been waiting for me to start a fight.

Too bad. I wasn’t taking the bait this time.

4:07 am

“Then I’ll re–arrange the schedule. I’ll also coordinate with the audio and presentation teams.”

I said, gathering the documents on my desk.

No one thought anything was unusual about me.

They thought I had given up.

Only I knew that what I needed to do now wasn’t to argue, but to plant the bombs.

This planning company was founded by Alexander and me. I poured nearly all my savings into it, even my parents‘ retirement fund.

In the early days, to secure investments, I’d entertained clients until I was hospitalized multiple times. Alexander and I crammed into a tiny studio, working from dawn till dusk, never daring to slack off.

In my previous life, worried about all our hard work going to waste, I had changed the menu before the wedding, ensuring its smooth execution.

But I never imagined I’d die with a tainted reputation, and that my parents would fall ill because of

This time, I wouldn’t stop them.

Let them fill a high–society wedding, attended by the nation’s most prominent figures, with their bubble tea, fried chicken, and chips.