The car pulled in front of Hitler's quarters and the thugs pulled Drake out, dragging him inside. They marched him through the dimly lit corridors until they finally came before Hitler.The door was flung open and Drake was shoved inside, falling on his knees right in front of Hitler.Victor leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Drake. There was this fury in his eyes that sent panic through Drake's spine.“You,” Hitler hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “What did you do with the package?”Drake furrowed his brow, “I don't understand,” he managed to say. Everything was happening so fast that he found it difficult to comprehend what exactly was going on. His mind quickly flashed back to Donald switching the boxes just before he had gone out on delivery.It was then it occurred to him that it was Donald who had switch the boss's package which had replaced it a box of junk items.“Will you stop playing dumb with me and tell me how my $20 million worth of stuff turned into
Drake staggered to work still bleeding from the wounds that the thugs had inflicted upon him. He couldn't help but have the feeling that Donald could be possibly behind it. He remembered him saying he'll set him up and he had surely done so.It must have been the reason he had personally ordered him to make the delivery at Woodruff. He must have had it all planned out from the beginning.From the gate, his colleagues burst into laughter. “What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into, Drake?” One of them began. “What did you do? Wrestle a bear?” He jeered, a wide grin spreading across his lips. “Since when did you become a boxer?” Another mocked. “Your opponent, whosoever he was, deserves some accolades.”“Looks like someone had a rough day,” another chimed in, smirking.Drake's face remained sullen, his eyes dark with a mix of exhaustion and anger but he had no time to let their mockery get to him. He simply ignored them and headed straight to Donald's office.“Donald!” Drake s
After Drake left Donald's office, he marched straight to the office of the logistics manager. As the one who is responsible for overseeing and coordinating the movement of goods, materials, and resources in the company, Drake wanted to know if he knew anything about the delivery to Woodruff and why he had approved it in the first place. Carlos Truman, the logistics manager, was one of the many people who didn't like Drake. If he could have his own way he'd have fired him already, but since Drake's in-laws had secured the job for him, it put him in a difficult situation.He was attending to some paperworks when he heard a knock on the door. “Who's there?” He asked.“It's Drake Sullivan,” Drake replied.“Come in,” Carlos ushered him in.Carlos was surprised to see Drake looking so bloodied as he entered the office. He couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself. But that wasn't his concern. “What brings you to my office?” He asked, ignoring the bloody state in which he had see
Donald entered into the office with an air of confidence, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He already knew why Carlos had sent for him and seeing Drake right there in the office, he just couldn't help but smile.“Donald,” Carlos began sternly. “What happened with the package you asked Drake to deliver earlier today?”“I don't understand sir. What do you mean?” Donald asked, sounding polite and innocent.“You see, Drake here is accusing you of switching the package he was supposed to deliver and setting him up. What do you have to say? Is it true?” Carlos asked, all in one breath.Donald feigned a look of surprise and concern. “Absolutely not, sir. The package I gave Drake was the exact package the client ordered for. If there was any problem, it must have happened after it left my hands.”Drake’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. “That's not true, you set me up Donald!”“And why on earth will I do that?” Donald sneered.“You said so yourself, just right before I left with the package.”
Carlos' patience wore thin as he watched the argument between Drake and Donald on who was telling the truth and who was lying continued right before him.Unable to take it anymore, he flared, as he pointed at the door. “Both of you, get out of my office,” he commanded. “I've had enough of your nonsense!”Drake and Donald stood there stunned, but Carlos wasn't done yet. “Drake, you're responsible for this mess,” he continued, “You'll return the missing items from the package to the client immediately and I don't want to care how you'll do it. All I care about is you having it done. If the client pulls out because of your incompetence, you'll find yourself in a world of trouble.”Drake, once again, tried to explain but Carlos cut him off sharply, with a wave of his hand.“I don't want to hear any more excuses. Get out and fix this, now!” He barked.Drake's heart sank. He knew Donald was behind all that was happening, but he had no proof. Reluctantly, he left Carlos' office, the weight
Drake walked into the hospital, his clothes stained with dry blood. The sterile smell of the hospital greeted him as he entered, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger from what happened between him and Donald at the office. The fact that he had no way to prove that Donald had indeed, switched the package and had set him up, really got him feeling ridiculed, but he knew he had to let it slide for the time being.The doctor walked up to him, noticing his battered state. “Mr. Sullivan, what happened to you?” He asked.“I was beaten up,” Drake replied.The doctor quickly called for assistance, and within moments, they were already attending to his injuries. “You should be careful,” the doctor advised, after they had finished treating his wounds. “Do you need anything else?” “No, thank you. I just need to see my family,” Drake replied, rising up from the chair where he was sitting on.He made his way to his daughter, Michelle's room, where she lay in the hospital bed, looking small. She was
Drake followed the nurse and together with the members of the Simmons family, they were led into a private room within the hospital.Mr Simmons, a tall man with a stern expression stepped forward. “Mr. Sullivan, I presume,” he said, his voice cold and formal.“Yes,” Drake replied, his mind already processing a thousand thoughts over the reason they had sent for him.“Well, I'm Mr. Simmons and this is my wife, Mrs. Simmons,” the man continued, touching his wife who was still in deep grief. “Our son, our only child was involved in the accident with your wife and unfortunately, he didn't make it.”Drake's eyes widened in shock. He had no idea that the other victim was the only child of Mr and Mrs Simmons and he wasn't even aware that the other victim had died from the crash.“I…I… didn't know,” he stammered. “I'm sorry for your loss,” he added, understanding the pain they were feeling for having lost their child.Mrs. Simmons, with grief in her eyes, glared at him. “Sorry won't bring bac
Drake stood where he was stunned by the last remark from Mrs. Simmons. He found it difficult to understand what exactly she meant by saying she needed justice for the death of their son. While his thoughts was still trying to process all of that, the Simmons' family lawyer, a stern looking man in a dark suit stepped forward and handed him a thick envelope.Drake's eyes opened wide as he collected the envelope, wondering what was contained in it.“What's this for?” He inquired, trying to remain as calm as possible.“You're being served,” the lawyer replied, his tone devoid of any emotion. With trembling hands, Drake tore open the envelope and quickly scanned the papers inside. His eyes opened wide in disbelief as he read the contents of the paper: The Simmons family was suing him and his wife for recklessnes, claiming it was what led to the death of their only child. As if that was not enough, they were also demanding that he and his wife, if she ever recovers from her comatose stat