“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
Clinton stormed into the Joneses' private office, his face twisted in barely contained rage. With a frown, Mr. Jones was pacing back and forth, trying to come up with something to do to stop Rowland. "Is he still operating?" Clinton spat as he threw himself into one of the leather seats. "I cannot believe this!"Mr. Jones stopped pacing and massaged his temple. "He is not just managing," he said, his voice low. "According to our sources, Rowland has nearly completed the designs for his portion of the collection. And from what we have seen, they look... good. Really good.”Clinton slammed his fist against the armrest.All of the team was deliberately trying to undermine and avoid Rowland, but he was not only managing, he was thriving. Clinton, frustrated, gritted his teeth at the reports of his cool head and steady progress. He was expecting Rowland to beg for help, Tension was palpable as the Jones family and Clinton sat in their private office. Mr. Jones paced before the expansive
The following morning at Fence Emerald, Clinton sat behind his desk, his mind racing with frustration as he impatiently tapped his fingers against the smooth wood. Rowland prospered in spite of all he had thrown at him, including misinformation, sabotage, and delays. Clinton thought less of him. It was making Clinton crazy that Rowland was turning out to be more resilient than anyone had thought.As Clinton's thoughts spiraled, the door to his office opened, and Amaya walked in, her face calm but calculated. Clinton, still enraged by Rowland's frustrating success, hardly raised an eyebrow. "Clinton," she said with grace as she shut the door behind her. "I have heard the most recent information. Rowland is still making progress on the jewelry project. Your strategies do not appear to be weakening him."Clinton's face twisted with rage as he slammed his fist against the desk. "No thank you, Amaya. I thought bringing you in would be enough to upset him. But he just keeps going, regardl
Leaving Rowland's office in a furious manner, Amaya's heels clicked sharply on the marble floor as she strode out. It was quite bold of him to stand there acting as though she owed him anything, suggesting that her offer was not the only way out of the catastrophe he was about to face. Though annoyance and indignation were visible on her face, fear was pulling at her underneath. Everything was going to be ruined by Rowland's disobedience.Her rage had turned into resolve by the time she arrived at Clinton's office. Clinton, who had been absorbed in thought behind his desk, was taken aback when she abruptly opened the door without knocking. He knew something had not gone according to plan the moment he saw the expression on her face."He would not listen," Amaya said, pacing in front of his desk. "I have tried everything. He is too stubborn, Clinton. He refuses to step down. He believes he can outlast us and that he is untouchable.”Clinton's expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed