Chapter 10: The Unveiling of a Ghost

A new day dawned at Fence Emerald Company, one unlike any other. The sun was high in the sky, casting a soft golden hue across the modern building's glass facade. Inside, there was a palpable sense of anticipation, particularly among upper management. 

The unveiling of their most recent jewelry project, which they had been working on for months. A crowd of investors had gathered from all over the city to see what they thought would be a historic occasion for the company.

"Hey, fetch those files from my office and hand them over to the secretary right away." Amaya spoke while seated at the sizable mahogany conference table, her fingers tapping tensely on its glossy surface. She was the company's general manager, so she was well aware of the importance of this presentation.  

This was a critical day; success could propel the business to unprecedented heights, and failure? Well, the alternative was not failure. She looked over at Vice President Clinton, who was standing by the projector, making last-minute edits to the slides for the presentation. 

As the last few guests took their seats, everyone in the room straightened up. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," Clinton began, his deep voice commanding the audience's attention. "I want to thank everyone for coming today. As many of you are aware, Fence Emerald Company has long been a pioneer in the high-end jewelry sector, but this day ushers in a new chapter in our history.”

Amaya observed the investors stooping a little in their seats, curious to learn more. Clinton was a master at creating tension, and this time was no exception. His words lingered in the atmosphere, with each pause calculated to build suspense.

"We are proud to present our latest project," Clinton said, pressing a button on the remote. The company's tasteful logo flashed on the screen behind him, and then the first slide appeared. "A collection that will reinvent innovation and elegance in the luxury jewelry industry."

Evidently intrigued by the promise, the investors whispered to one another. Knowing he had them exactly where he wanted them, Clinton grinned. 

"And now," he said, his voice booming, "allow me to introduce the person who will lead today's presentation and walk you through this incredible project."

A small silence fell for just long enough to allow the room to fill with anticipation. Amaya scowled a little, not sure to whom Clinton was alluding. As usual, she had anticipated that he would take the lead in the presentation. As she watched Clinton turn to face the projector screen in anticipation of the next slide, her confusion grew.

However, the screen flashed something else rather than the anticipated image of a sparkling piece of jewelry.

"Rowland?!" A photo of Rowland!

As the image sank into everyone's retinas, the room appeared to freeze. The man they had all written off as a "live-in son-in-law" had a familiar face staring back at them from the screen.

A wave of shock swept across the room. Amaya's heart skipped a beat, and she looked at Clinton with her eyebrows shot up in shock. Clinton's normally composed expression had a flash of uncertainty and annoyance on it.

With a slow, deliberate creak, the conference room door opened before anyone could react. Everybody's eyes turned to face the entrance.

And there he was.

Wearing a fitted navy-blue suit that embraced his broad shoulders, Rowland gave off a confidence that few had ever seen in him. His polished shoes clicked softly against the marble floor as he entered with slow, purposeful steps. 

Clinton tensed visibly, having been standing at the front of the room. His teeth clenched, and the vice president of the company's smooth exterior cracked for an instant. His eyes narrowed in a confused, angry sort of way as he slowly turned to face Rowland.

"You?!" Clinton said, his tone toned down and filled with skepticism. "What are you doing here, exactly?!"

Rowland did not answer right away. As he arrived at the front of the room, he was the center of attention, so he faced the audience. 

"I believe," Rowland began, his voice steady and clear, "that I am the representative the vice president just mentioned."

Clinton's eyes widened with surprise, and Amaya's heart raced. There was an obvious tension in the room that could be felt through a knife. How is this possible? How in the world had this poor thing entered this hall undetected? 

As Rowland walked calmly up to the podium, Amaya's mind raced. She looked around to see that the investors were all now observing with great interest. They were unaware of Rowland's past. The presentation that could turn the company around was about to be led by him.

Clinton hesitantly stepped forward, still shaking from the shock. "This is not the right place for you," he stumbled to himself. "You do not fit in here. "Get out now!"

Rowland gave Clinton a brief, detached glance that caused the vice president to become silent. "On the contrary," Rowland stated softly, his voice echoing throughout the room. "I feel more like I belong here than anyone else."

The words lingered in the atmosphere, weighing heavily on all those in attendance. What exactly was this useless person saying? With his hand casually resting on the podium, Rowland returned his focus to the audience. 

He looked out at the sea of faces, some curious, others perplexed.

"You silly! What gives you the right to enter this opulent hall? Clinton continued to rage, "Have you ever seen a hall like this in your entire poor life? Now will you get out!”

A shiver went down Amaya's spine. Without any delay, she got up from her chair and made her way directly towards Rowland. 

"I see you enjoy humiliation," Amaya said angrily. "It would be pointless to cause a scene. Get out of this hall right away, you wretched thing!"

Confusing expressions appeared on every face among the present investors at this point.

Clinton, who had seen enough, raised his voice and shouted, "Security! Security!! Take this thing out of this company and turn him over to the cops."