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
The hum of conversation filled the grand company hall. A room full of executives, workers, and investors awaited Rowland's presentation on the in processed jewelry design that had generated so much interest. To convey the opulence of the occasion, the entire hall was tastefully decorated with shimmering chandeliers, golden drapes, and exquisite centerpieces. Everyone understood that the outcome of the night could either make or break Rowland's future.Amaya stood close to the door, glancing with a cold stare at the throng. She saw Khalid, who was seated at the far end of the room, being whispered to by Mr. Fence's secretary, Fatima.Although Clinton appeared unusually composed as he stood next to her, she could sense a hint of anxiety in the way his fingers tapped his leg. With his plan in place, Rowland's demise would not be far off.Amaya returned her focus to the seating section. Rowland had just arrived, looking dapper in a fitted suit and projecting confidence from his demeanor.
Amaya's heart was pounding as she led Lily into Clinton's office. There was a lot of tension in the air; Clinton paced behind his desk, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Lily, who shifted under his examining stare. Amaya leaned toward Lily and spoke in a low, inquisitive voice as she gently closed the door behind them to protect their privacy."Are you absolutely certain you did everything I asked?" Amaya's voice was soothing, but it had a dangerous edge to it.Lily nodded, but a slight crease appeared on her brow. "Yes, Ma. I followed your instructions and put the tablet in his drink. He drank it right afterwards."Clinton paused his pacing and gave Amaya a puzzled expression. "So, how would you explain what we just witnessed? Rowland did not just do well; he was brilliant!"Amaya clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to comprehend what had gone wrong. She returned her attention to Lily, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Lily, are you