Sooo, this is my FIRST fanfic EVER and I hope it turns out well! Since today is my birthday and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, I figured I'd go ahead and post this now. I hope this is well-received. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!

Stephanie McMahon-Levesque was a reasonably patient woman. She had to be, what with having 3 kids and all. Her daughters, though she loved them to death, could be quite a handful. Her eldest was five and her youngest was only a year old. Parenthood, Stephanie had learned from her mother, could sometimes be viewed as a war: you had to pick your battles wisely if you wanted to win the war. 'Know when to concede defeat and when to hold steadfast to your decision, no matter how irritable your child became.' Yes, if you wanted peace in your home, you had to know when to say 'yes,' when to say 'no,' and how to disguise your 'no' as a 'there's always next time.' Being patient at home certainly paid its dividends.

But home wasn't the only place where Stephanie had to be very patient. She had to be extremely patient at work as well. She was the Executive Vice President of Creative Development and Operations of World Wrestling Entertainment (better known by its acronym, WWE). WWE was a global phenomenon – a sports entertainment juggernaut that grossed billions of dollars annually. Stephanie's father Vincent Kennedy McMahon was the Chairman of the Board and CEO of WWE. Her mother Linda used to be the CEO, but quit on account of her running for a seat in the Senate from their home state of Connecticut. Stephanie's older brother Shane – her only sibling – had left the company recently; so when her father retired or passed away, it would be up to her to lead the company. And Stephanie couldn't wait for that day to arrive!

At a very early age, Stephanie realized that she LOVED the family business. She loved the idea of entertaining millions of people on a weekly basis. She loved that something as brutal as fighting and as beautiful as storytelling could be combined to give the spectators something extraordinary – a cross between a soap opera and Gladiator. The wrestling was still the main focus, but there were stories to go along with it. It wasn't just senseless beating up of opponent after opponent. It was fueled by passion, by the drive to prove yourself as the best by obtaining a championship, by the determination to show that you belonged there, and by the need to seek revenge for 'being wronged' by another wrestler. The seamless blending of the fighting and storytelling is what had captivated Stephanie.

As she grew older, Stephanie realized that she wanted to be a part of the family business. She wanted to be part of the creative process that led to these storylines getting approved and these rivalries playing out LIVE on t.v. She wanted to witness the thrill of the crowd when their favorite superstar won his match and to hear the jeers of the crowd when a despised superstar stole a victory or cut a promo in which they belittled the other superstars and the audience. Stephanie knew that the WWE was where she wanted to work.

The WWE being a male-dominated business meant that Stephanie had to be extremely patient. She had to be patient with her coworkers, who often underestimated her simply because she was young and not as experienced as the rest of them. [But what she lacked in experience, she more than made up for in creativity. They just refused to admit it.] She had to be even more patient with her employees, who looked at her warily. Many believed that the only reason she held a position in the company was simply because of her last name; they deemed her unworthy to lead the company. Thus, Stephanie had to work extra hard to prove that she, indeed, belonged in that office and that she was fit to lead the company to a brighter future.

A brighter future could only be attained by drawing in more crowds and keeping their interests. This of course depended on the superstars putting on great matches and cutting convincing promos before matches. And superstars would perform well if they were happy. 'Happy employees equal happy office,' her father had said. And happy employees who performed better delivered a better product, which was the ultimate goal of the WWE.

Stephanie knew all this, which is why she had agreed to let a certain blond superstar leave the company. Twice!

Patiently, Stephanie had listened to him tell her how he was exhausted, so burnt out – physically and mentally – that he felt he could no longer perform to the best of his abilities. And if he couldn't do that, then what good was he to her or to the company? So, reluctantly, she had released him from his contract and allowed him to pursue other interests. He had done a host of other things, but after a year away from the ring, he was more than ready to get back into his wrestling trunks, lace up those wrestling boots and step into the squared circle, to tell off the thousands in attendance (and the millions more watching at home) that they were 'nothing but foul, loathsome, gelatinous, mealy-mouthed, hypocrites; parasites, really.' Those lines certainly incited the crowd and Stephanie was amused and amazed that he could elicit equally strong reactions from the crowd, whether he was a heel or a face.

According to him, he was the best in the world at what he did. And Stephanie had to give credit where credit was due. The man was good on the mic, great in the ring and just an all-around nice person to work with. So when he had called her out of the blue and asked to meet him at a particular café that was low-key, so that paparazzi would be less likely to spot them there, she had agreed. They had decided on a time that would be convenient for both of them.

"1 p.m. sharp. And don't be late! I hate waiting!" Stephanie nearly hissed into the cell phone.

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "I know the whole 'time is money' mantra you McMahons abide by, so I'll definitely show up on time. See you then, Steph."

When Stephanie checked her watch for the third time in two minutes, she began to lose her composed stance and face. She checked her cell phone and sure enough, it confirmed that it was indeed 1:35. 'Where the hell is he?' she fumed in her head. 'I hate being made to wait. It makes me feel like I'm being stood up. Ugh! I'm gonna kill him when he gets here.'

As Stephanie's patience wore thin, she began fidgeting. She smoothed out her wrinkle-free black skirt and readjusted her satin navy blue blouse. She removed her feet from her navy blue Jimmy Choo shoes and returned her feet into the pumps. She checked her black Louis Vuitton purse for the twentieth time to make sure that her keys and make-up were there and that she hadn't received any new texts or e-mails on her Blackberry.

Stephanie sighed audibly. Yes, Stephanie McMahon-Levesque was a patient woman… but even the most patient people had their limits.