Amaya stood motionless, her eyes widening as Clinton's face turned a beet red with rage. By now, everyone in the room was on edge, trying to piece together this strange and unexpected turn of events, and the tension had reached a boiling point. Clinton's voice echoed again, this time with a loud, disbelieving tone. "Security! Get him out of here right now!" Clinton barked, pointing his finger at Rowland.The security officers entered the room right away. They were tall, dark-suited men who moved purposefully. They appeared prepared to drag Rowland out without hesitation. "You heard the Vice President; now move it!" The Chief Security guard stated.By contrast, Rowland maintained his composure and had an unflappable expression. He continued to stare at Clinton, but he felt a stab in his chest. He had not expected such blatant disrespect, especially from someone like Clinton. Just as a guard was about to take him by the arm, a sharp voice broke through the confusion."Stop there imme
"Never! I would never accept it!" Clinton was still enraged, "Fatima, you better watch what you say."Rowland, the former menial worker, received an official appointment as the project manager from his father. His heart thumped with humiliation and rage. Amaya stood beside him, witnessing the color drain from his face, but she too was unable to get over her shock. How was this even possible? How could Rowland, of all people, be granted such power?Amaya interrupted the silence. "Make a call to your parents. There must be a mistake." Although she spoke steadily, there was a hint of urgency in her tone. She did not have to tell Clinton twice. He grabbed his phone right away and dialed his father's number, hoping he would pick up. However, the phone rang, but his father was not answering at the time.He immediately dialed his father's second number, holding out hope that he would answer. Rather, the well-known tone of Khalid, his father's personal helper, responded. Clinton’s stomach
Clinton stormed out of the hall, his rage barely contained as his footsteps echoed angrily down the grand corridor of the company's headquarters. Amaya followed him, her thoughts racing as she attempted to comprehend the unexpected turn of events. How is it possible for this to occur? Rowland, the once-insignificant employee, had risen to power overnight, and Khalid, Clinton's father's most trusted aide, had publicly supported him. It felt like the ground beneath their feet had shifted, leaving them disoriented and helpless."Clinton, slow down," Amaya said, her voice tinged with urgency. "We cannot simply walk away from this. There must be something we can do."Clinton, still enraged, paused and turned to face her. His eyes burned with rage, and his jaw tightened. "Amaya, what are you expecting me to do? I was humiliated in front of everyone by that bastard Rowland. And Khalid supported him—Khalid, of all people. Are you aware of what that means? My own father's right-hand man pref
“Let's take this way, Rowland.”The auction hall was filled with low murmurs and anticipation as people took their seats. Rowland observed the vast area from the entrance. Rich men and women were gathered around the elaborate chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, bathing them in a gentle golden glow. Their expensive clothes and well-mannered demeanor served as a sharp reminder of the world he had only recently entered, and he could feel the weight of their status.However, fitting in was not the goal today. The idea was to make a statement.Khalid, who had gone with him to the function, was ready to follow Rowland inside when Rowland waved a hand and refused. "Thank you, Khalid, but I am going in alone," he said, his voice steady. "I must do this on my own."After a brief moment of hesitation, Khalid nodded. "As you desire, Mr. Rowland. I will be nearby in case you need me."After adjusting his suit jacket and nodding curtly, Rowland strode into the hallway. He could feel the elite
Amaya became sarcastic as soon as her surprise faded. Her eyes glowed with incredulity, and then she laughed sharply, grabbing the attention of people around her. "Oh, this is rich," she sneered, glancing at Clinton before returning her attention to Rowland. “Twice the amount? Are you trying to look foolish in front of all these people, Rowland? You cannot possibly afford such an outrageous bid, you and I know that."The people around them murmured, some exchanging skeptical looks. Rowland's bold proposal had startled them, but Amaya's remarks appeared to hit home with the assembly, as several heads nodded in agreement.Amaya got up from her chair, her dress glistening in the lights, and she walked up to the auctioneer, her tone brimming with conceit. "Something has to be wrong. Surely, you do not expect us to believe that he"—she pointed dismissively at Rowland—"can actually pay for this ring. Why not ask him how he intends to pay?”Clinton stood up and chuckled darkly. "Amaya is c
The following morning, Rowland sat with a sketchpad on his lap by his father's study's large bay window. While his eyes scanned over a few jewelry designs scattered across the desk in front of him, he twirled a pencil absentmindedly in his fingers. The elegant pieces were all expertly made with the attention to detail and care for which the Fence Emerald Company was renowned. None of them, however, really impressed him. Despite their beauty, these designs lacked the soul and originality he longed to see in jewelry.He let out a sigh and tapped his pencil on the page before lowering it to the blank. His fingers moved almost without conscious thought, and in a matter of minutes, shapes started to take shape. Sharp lines gave way to softer curves, and soon a ring started to take shape. Rowland was sketching a plan that had been circling around in his head for several days.As he worked, the door creaked softly, echoing throughout the room. Mr. Fence, his father, walked in wearing a puzz
Rowland's arrival at the Jones Company was eagerly anticipated. The tension in the room was almost palpable as the Jones Company's senior management team sat waiting, murmurs of excitement and curiosity passing between them. Mr. and Mrs. Jones sat at the head of the long mahogany table, forced smiles covering their nervousness."Do you think they will send someone like Mr. Fence himself? "Or perhaps one of their top designers?" one of the senior employees suggested to another."I have heard the representative is supposed to be brilliant, whoever it is," came the response.Mrs. Jones shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze darting to her husband. "Whoever it is," she said quietly, "they better understand the importance of this project."The meeting was critical because the contract awarded to them by Fence Emerald Company could propel their business to new heights. But they had no idea what kind of surprise was in store for them.At last, the doors to the conference room opened,
Mr. Fence's response infuriated Clinton. He slammed his phone against his desk, fists clenched. He was shocked that his father had assigned Rowland—a novice and unproven "rookie"—to manage such a significant undertaking. Frustration whizzed through his head. How could his father have believed such a person as Rowland? Clinton called Mr. and Mrs. Jones without any delay."Clinton?" Mrs. Jones responded, her tone from the previous meeting still astringent."I just spoke with my father," Clinton growled, "and it appears Rowland is here to stay. But that does not mean we will let this go." His tone reflected his growing resentment, with a hint of venom and calculated bitterness. "It makes no difference what my father says. That idiot has no business being involved in this project.”Mrs. Jones grasped the phone more tightly, her anger at the public humiliation matching her own. "What are your suggestions? We cannot openly defy Fence Emerald without jeopardizing their investment.""I do