Inside the office of the vice-president of Fence Emerald Company, Clinton and Amaya were in a jubilant mood. As the two celebrated their apparent victory, the air in Clinton's spacious office was thick with the scent of champagne. The laughter that echoed from the walls was sharp, mocking, and full of venom for their unsuspecting target—Rowland.Amaya, dressed elegantly, sat comfortably in one of the plush chairs. She gestured enthusiastically with one hand while holding a glass of champagne in the other, her voice brimming with contempt. "Rowland? That poor thing," she rolled her eyes and sneered. "Honestly, I am glad I divorced him. I mean, just look at him! A project manager? A fool who does not even notice the walls closing in on him."Clinton swirled his own drink in a deep laugh. "A mere project manager," he repeated in a disdainful tone. He believed he could compete in the major leagues. He will eventually leave Fence Emerald completely, at which point he will understand how

The next day arrived with a heavy sense of anticipation. Rowland walked into the Jones Company, his face calm despite the whispers that filled the corridors. Employees whispered quietly behind their hands, repeating the same rumor."Today is the day Rowland resigns as project manager after being accused of theft.""Yeah, I understand, but is that accusation true?""I believe we will have to wait for the investors' final decision."Rowland remained focused in spite of their whispers. He was well aware that his reputation was not the only thing at stake. Today, he would have to defend himself not only for the project design, but also for his professional career.His footsteps echoed in the corridor as he made his way to the meeting room, contrasting sharply with the hushed voices around him. When Rowland entered the room, it was empty. He took a seat at the large oval table, his face unreadable.A few minutes later, Mr. Greyson and the other investors showed up, and their presence gave

The room became more tense as Mr. Greyson, holding his iPad, pointed to Shard. "Shard," he said in a firm yet commanding voice, "is it possible for you to connect this iPad to the meeting room projector?"Shard gave a quick nod, but his expression was a little bewildered. "Yes, I can," he answered."Good," Mr. Greyson replied, handing over the iPad. "Please do that."Shard rose from his seat and grabbed the iPad with both hands. He moved to the front of the room, his movements careful and deliberate, as if he was aware that everyone was watching him. The investors watched with interest, and Mr. and Mrs. Jones looked at each other tensely for a moment. They appeared calm on the outside, but on the inside, they were anything but.Mrs. Jones leaned over to her husband, whispering, "What is he attempting to prove here?"Mr. Jones shook his head subtly, murmuring back, "Let us remain calm. They will find nothing."Shard occupied himself with the projector, his hands expertly working as h

The atmosphere in the room became more and more oppressive as Shard stayed silent and looked around in an attempt to get away from the accusing looks. Mr. Greyson was growing impatient. His voice was a measured combination of urgency and authority as he leaned forward."Shard, please provide an explanation. Your silence only adds to our concern. What exactly were you doing in Mr. Rowland's office?”Shard swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the room's expectation bear down on him. His mind raced as he considered the promises made by Mr. and Mrs. Jones—the allure of a promotion if he did his part. But, cornered and desperate, he made a hasty decision.He carefully stretched out his hands, pointing one of his fingers in the direction of Mr Khalid."It was Mr. Khalid," he blurted out, his voice trembling but firm. "He... he told me to go inside Mr. Rowland's office. He asked me to steal and destroy the project designs."Mr. Khalid? Shard bodly has accused Mr Khalid of this? Something Ro

The office was silent, except for the soft hum of the air conditioning, as the person in charge of processing transfers stared at the flagged transaction on his screen. The sum, five hundred million dollars, was a clear warning sign. He had a gut feeling that something was wrong. Even with the project manager's signature on it, he still felt that this transaction needed more investigation."I will first give the company president a call before acting."He took out his phone that morning and called the president of the company, whose number he had obtained from the bank account information of the company. The call was promptly answered, but it was Khalid, Mr. Fence's dependable personal assistant, who spoke in place of the president."This is Khalid," the voice on the other end said quickly. "How can I assist you?"The man breathed deeply. "Good morning. I am Anthony, the officer in charge of company transfers. A large transfer—five hundred million dollars—has arrived at my desk. I n