Chapter 13: The Power Play: Rowland's Ascent

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 preferred that low life over me."

Amaya's mouth narrowed into a line. "Clinton, this is not over. We need to make sure that filthy thing pays."

"Of course," Clinton replied. "I will not let him get away with this!"

***

On the following day, however, Rowland found himself seated at an opulent breakfast table in his family's private lodge. Warm light filled the elegant space as the morning sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows. 

At the head of the table, his father, Mr. Fence, sipped his coffee in silent satisfaction. From across the table, Mrs. Fence smiled softly at her son, her eyes sharp and her demeanor gracious.

"Rowland, you have done us proud," his father said, his deep voice breaking the calm. "Taking on the project manager role is not a role for your type, but I am confident you will handle it well."

Rowland, his usual modest demeanor replaced by newfound confidence, smiled as he cut into his toast. “Thank you, Father. I will ensure that everything runs smoothly."

His mother responded, her voice full of pride. "Rowland, you have come a long way. I have always known you were special."

Standing attentively by Mr. Fence’ side, Khalid leaned in slightly and spoke in a low, respectful tone as the family carried on with their meal. "Mr. Fence, I would like to bring up the upcoming auction on Monday. One of the primary attractions will be the gold ring that piqued your interest.”

Rowland's father gave a contemplative nod. "Oh, yes, the auction. Rowland, are you interested in attending? It could be an excellent opportunity to network with some influential people. Clinton and Amaya are also expected to be present."

Rowland's ears perked up when the names Clinton and Amaya were mentioned. The prospect of confronting Clinton again, this time in a more public setting, made him happy. He had defeated Clinton once in the boardroom; why not do it again in front of even more powerful eyes?

"I think I will go, after all," Rowland said, setting down his fork. "It could be... interesting."

Mr. Fence smiled with approval. "Good. It is always a good idea to network at events like these.”

Mrs. Fence, relieved that Ireland would attend, said, "That black we gave you," with a knowing smile. "There are more than enough funds available for you to place any bid you want."

When Rowland learned that from his mother, his eyes widened a little. Even though he was aware of his family's wealth, he was still shocked by their level of wealth. With the black card, he could outbid anyone—including Clinton.

"Thank you, Mother," Rowland said, his tone grateful but his thoughts already turning to the auction. 

Mr. Fence thoughtfully stroked his chin as he reclined in his chair. "Rowland, the gold ring is an extremely rare piece. It is valuable not only for its content, but also for its historical significance. Khalid, why do not you tell Rowland about the details?"

Khalid nodded, his voice quiet and measured. "The ring belonged to the Duke of Argail in the late nineteenth century. It is said to be unique, created by a well-known jeweler at the time. Many collectors would pay a lot of money for it. If you are successful in your bid, your standing among the elite will undoubtedly improve."

Rowland listened carefully but found his mind wandering. The gold ring, however rare it sounded, was not what motivated him. 

Instead, the prospect of facing Clinton and Amaya sparked something deeper within him—a desire to prove himself once more, to show them both that his boardroom victory was no fluke. His goal was to control the auction and possibly cause Amaya and Clinton embarrassment in front of the same select group of people.

Mrs. Fence interrupted, observing Rowland's preoccupied look. "This is not just a ring, Rowland. It is an investment that may grow in value over time, something to strengthen your position and possibly pass down to future generations."

Her words hardly registered. Rowland's thoughts were already elsewhere, picturing the scene at the auction. 

He could imagine Clinton's smug expression turning sour as he outbid him at every opportunity. And Amaya—the lovely, sharp-witted Amaya—would be watching. He was not sure where he stood with her, but leaving a lasting impression was always beneficial.

Rowland eventually spoke, leaning forward slightly. "Khalid, I appreciate your insight. But I am more interested in the people who will be present than in the ring itself."

Mr. Fence raised an eyebrow but made no comment, recognizing his son's unspoken ambition. "All right, Rowland. Remember, it is not always about who bids the most, but who makes the best impression."

Rowland nodded, his mind completely focused on the auction and the upcoming showdown.