It was nearly morning when the young man met Orment outside of his facility. The elder took a light bow and intended to go inside but the young man stopped him.
"My master?" He tilted his head in confusion.
The young man shook his head. "Call the security and ambulance. Report the incident to the headquarter. We are stolen."
"I understand.” Orment nodded.
It was unclear why his master wanted to report an unsuccessful robbery. He couldn't question his master after all.
About five minutes later, three black vans with sign of the internal security association arrived, followed by two ambulances next ten minutes.
Three groups of heavily armed soldiers moved out of the vans and immediately surrounded the warehouse.
Another soldier, with a captain badge, neared the young man and raised his right hand to the forehead. A military salutation.
"My sincere apology, young master. Are you injured?" Although his force didn’t solely serve the young man, the way they addressed him indicated his special position.
"I'm not, but my property is." Despite no facially frustrating attitude, the young man's voice leaked dissatisfaction.
The captain obviously felt ashamed because of the incapability of his agents. Thus, he must earn this young owner’s trust again before the young master refused to keep using his organization’s service.
On account of the crime scene, all the special agents were taken down without a decent fight.
“Nothing can wash off this humiliation” was exactly what the captain had in mind.
“Please be at ease. I still entrust my properties’ safety in your service. This isn’t a daily incident, is it?”
As if someone just threw a lifebuoy to him while drowning, the captain stood straight and saluted formally the young man again, “SIR YES, SIR.”
“Don’t rupture my eardrums.” The young man picked his ear and slightly frowned.
The conversation ended when Orment returned.
“Good day to you, butler Orment, and young master. Please excuse me.” The captain nodded and moved out.
“Still counting on them, I suppose?” Orment put on a gentle smile and clasped arms behind body, waiting.
While observing the security force examining the crime scene, the young man replied, “They’ve been doing well for a long time. It doesn’t harm to give them a second chance.”
“You are truly generous, young master.”
“Am I?”
“I suppose. Are we leaving? There is a meeting with the board in the afternoon.” The butler turned page in his notebook.
“Maybe we will have time for a bath.” The young man looked at his watch on the left wrist.
The two men then walked side by side out of the area and got into a black car.
…
In the very center zone of the metropolis, situated plenty of skyscrapers and malls. Countless international corporations placed their main offices there.
This ten kilometers square area, named Central, had become a golden land. Years ago, the government gathered all business in one place and successfully drew more investment from many other countries.
Gradually the place was turning into an absolute upper class area in which only people with prosperity were allowed to step in. Any leasing facilities in the Central should cost four or five times more than in the surrounding regions.
Hence, wealth discernment unfortunately had appeared and couldn’t be averted. Albeit it was a part of society's development, the experience was cruel to mostly everyone.
The poor had to struggle in factories to earn mere pennies while the rich dressing beautifully in air-conditioned meeting rooms to make a deal worth millions.
In the end, people must live their lives.
…
In a lovely morning with mild sunlight and cool wind, a Lamborghini was exceeding 100km/h on a four-lane main road, connecting the west zone of the city to the Central.
The bolting car was a hybrid monster that had sharp lines, aerodynamic elegance, and an unmistakable silhouette. Inside this vehicle, luxurious craftsmanship meeting outstanding technology provided unique driving experience with utmost comfort.
The Lamborghini possessor was none other than the young man who was unfortunate enough to be visited by dangerous thieves the other day.
He was on his way to the board conference. The crossroad in front of him was his last turn before arriving at the company. Still, there was another “big” trouble standing between him and the workplace.
A truck in the same lane was turning as well. Luckily, they dodged each other with mere centimeters away.
The truck driver leaned out from the window with a red face, looked back at the luxurious car, and raised his middle finger. “YA WANNA DIE? YA FUCKIN’ FAT CAT!”
Hard to determine whose fault it was.
There was no argument, which was usually a good end.
Usually…
The car suddenly sped up to over 200km/h, an illegal speed. The truck driver thought little at first. Perhaps the rich dude simply wanted to get away from a scary man.
The expensive car owner thought otherwise.
After getting ahead around 300 meters, the Lambo stopped, turning and facing the truck. Its engine was revving brutally, and the wheels were squealing ferociously.
With years of experience on the trucks, he knew what this meant. The Lamborghini wanted to confront the eight ton truck head on.
“Oh boi. Ya dead man.” The truck driver laughed at the young man’s stupid decision and pressed down on the acceleration pedal.
He was driving in the right lane at speed limit. Basically, he wasn’t going to be troubled by the cops. Most of the time, the rich kids just didn’t know what they were doing, always steered the wheel at the last second, and hurt themselves.
Both vehicles were rushing to each other and the truck driver was about to have another funny story to tell to his buddies.
However…
“Da fuck ya psycho doin’? HEY!!!”
Apparently, the Lamborghini never intended to avoid the truck. It was going at top speed. The truck driver couldn’t react in time.
He had never, ever imagined that he would encounter such a psychopath in his life, trying to commit suicide in a Lamborghini. He would certainly be severely injured, or even worse, dead.
Now he was consumed with bitter regret for belittling the young man’s insanity. Deep down in his heart, he prayed for a second chance to undo his terrible decision.
A crash was inevitable.
The two cars crashed into each other, followed by an explosion. The force of inertia blew off the front of the vehicle and smashed both drivers into the windscreens, shattering them into pieces. Some tires had rolled off the road already.
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Worse still, gasoline leaked out of the tank and created a potential fire.
If the collision didn’t end their lives, a fiery explosion would kill them both.
A massive bang could be heard from several hundreds of meters away, implying a certain death to all who got trapped in the accident.
Soon later, firetrucks and ambulances were on the scene. Although everyone strived to spare the casualty, the chance for any survivors was critically low.
The occasion drew attention from the civilians around the road, yet the police officers kept them outside. The overall judgment from investigators was “intentional crash” but it needed further investigation to conclude what had truly happened here.
“Such a waste.” An officer ticked his tongue, looking at the destroyed Lamborghini.
Another police shook his head as an agreement. “People with money surely know how to burn their assets.”
The value of the classy vehicle alone was unbelievable. Such ordinary employees like them could never dream of it in their wildest dream.
Even so, a wealthy, spoiled brat crushed it in a collision, likely on purpose, costing his life.
“Money really can drive people crazy”. The comment might sound empathy, yet it was overlaid with envy.
It was hard for those officers to think otherwise. They were suffering from the inequality brought by their own society.
Why was that?
Because of their birthplace?
Because of their origin?
Because of their family’s status?
The answers were obviously, sadly.
Despite stories about people prospering from the poor, the chance was pathetically low. Some were doubted to be true.
Most residents had to scramble for pieces of bread every day. They barely saw anything but their hunger, keeping them from thinking outside the box, unlike how successful people had boasted for decades.
No matter what, the policemen must fulfill their duty by completing the inspection and clearing the road. Those who travel on this path had power and money. These officers didn’t want to delay any longer unless they wanted to get in trouble.
Nearly an hour later, the traffic was clear, as if the incident had never happened.
***
On the second highest floor in one of the largest and tallest skyscraper in the Central, the Shrike Enterprise, a meeting was held by the most powerful people in the city, or even in the country.
It was never too excessive to state that Shrike Enterprise was an unofficial symbol of the Central. They built the complex to have four blocks for distinctive purports, one for a mall, one for a hotel, and two for residence and office.
All were designed by the top world architects and operated under Shrike Enterprise’s name. The corporation’s reputation extended far beyond the nation within the last decades.
Although the chosen room was built similarly to the other offices in the building, the adornments placed inside showed the remarkable wealth of the building owner.
Two pure gold lion statues that easily cost six million dollars were sitting on two sides of the heavy wooden doors.
A handmade blood crimson carpet, made of legendary red silk, led from the entrance to the middle of the room. Its price certainly would make average millionaires think twice before the purchase.
As if the expensive furniture didn’t illustrate enough luxury, there were paintings worth millions of dollars hung on the walls.
Inside situated a long, rare Blackwood table, the most expensive wood in the world. The value shouldn’t be less than several Mercedes-Benz E-Class cars.
Accompanying with the costly table were twenty executive chairs, each normally worth two thousand dollars. One of them was expensive enough to buy another hundred which their employees were using downstairs.
Automatic blurring and bulletproof glass windows and soundproof enclosure had become common. However, the council only accepted the finest materials for the room, elevating the expense to that of a house in the Central-which, by itself, was an enormous investment in real estate.
The impeccable quality was strictly applied to all buildings under Shrike Enterprise’s supervision. Any flaw detail was surely going to disgrace the corporation’s renown.
Shrike Enterprise was one of the biggest sharks in countless businesses, such as construction, hotel and restaurant, and even banking.
The foundation of success began nearly a hundred years ago, when the first founder started with a tiny store in the suburban.
It took more than a lifetime to bring such an empire to international stage. Therefore, a group of close families had gathered and sustained the enterprise together.
Here in the meeting room sat nine representatives of those families, along with the other nine grand directors from nine separated commercial areas. Their attire, despite styles and colors, was specifically designed by the best tailors domestically or abroad.
Even though everyone was wearing exclusive perfumes and sitting next to each other, thanks to their delicate choice, every scent stood out brilliantly.
An old man, pushing sixty, firmly walked in through the entrance, pushing his chest, keeping the left hand in the pocket, and holding a portfolio in the right. The man wearing a classic black suit had got white neatly cut hair, hawk nose, and adamant face.
The C.E.O (Chief Executive Officer) sat on the chair at an end of the table, putting his folder down.
“Good morning, my respectable shareholders and responsible executives,” he said. “First of all, I want to thank you for your hard work, my excellent managers, in the passing time.”
“However…” The chairman took a short breath, “I am sincerely sorry to inform you that the young master is caught in a car crash this morning.”
Suffocated by the chairman’s words, it took the board’s members a few seconds to respond.
“What the heck are you saying, Duraman?” A middle-aged lady.
She had got short hair, serious face, and was dressing in a grey suit.
She was a representative of a family.
“The accident was terrible, and the chance anyone can survive is critically low, Mrs. Amelia.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, yet her face expressed little.
Amelia had always considered the mentioned individual her son. Such horrible news must have damaged her.
“Are you certain that the young master was in the accident, Mr. Duraman?” An old executive asked again, disbelieving.
“It occurred right at the nearest crossroad.” The C.E.O sighed.
…
“So what are we going to do now?” A minute later, someone broke the silence.
A fair question, obviously. The dead young man, who possessed 30% the enterprise’s equity, was the biggest shareholder of Shrike Enterprise.
His family had supported the corporation since the beginning, thus losing him meant ripping off the company’s heart.
“I do understand the current time is inappropriate, but we must hold our stand. If we fall, so do the rest of the company.” The courage from the chairman slapped everyone out of their own thoughts.
“Indeed. I can’t agree more, so please proceed, Mr. Duraman,” the closest shareholder to the chairman replied.
“Thank you, Mr. Rouko. According to the contract between the shareholders and Shrike Enterprise’s board, in the case that the shareholder passes away, their heir shall inherit their shares.
If the shareholder doesn’t have an inheritor, their stocks will go public and be available for any transactions.”
“Wait a minute” –Amelia stood up- “we must wait for the police’s confirmation.”
“The report is arriving tomorrow. By then, it may be too late to act. The value of the corporation’s stock will definitely fall drastically. We will lose millions, if not billions.” Another family’s representative warned.
“One of our dear members dies and all you think of is profiting from his death? Have you no shame, Rakkalas?” Amelia glared at the spoken young blonde man sitting at the end of the table.
If a gaze could kill, that Rakkalas would be dead.
“No offense, Mrs. Amelia. We all know you love young master as your own son. But we have to accept the truth that he has gone forever and think of the best for the company.”
“Totally agree, Mr. Rakklas,” a redhead woman said, “I also believe that when the young master was alive, he would always want the best for everyone.”
“The best for everyone. Best for the company. A little boy gets a seat here thanks to his esteemed father, and a chick is dominating her surroundings by some of the boy's favor." The mistress was less concerned to control her anger now. "Until the young master's death is confirmed, I dare any of you to whisper a word about the sale of his shares."
Her threat was no joke. The lady held 15% equity of the company, more than the rest of shareholders. Her relationship with three out of ten families was long-lastingly well, let alone the other five grand directors.
Without the young master, she was the most powerful one in this room.
The blonde guy was about to spit something out, but turned away after a glance from someone on the opposite side of the table. The insulted executive also backed down while wishing for Amelia’s death.
The moment before she raised her finger and voiced her statement one more time, the door was pounded.
“Come in,” Duraman said.
A man in a turquoise long sleeve shirt, navy pants, and dark loafers rushed to the table and displayed a bunch of papers, graphs and charts.
“The public has learnt about the young master’s death. Right now our stock price is falling considerably.” The man represented, sweating.
“No way! How can they know?”
A simple question rarely came with a simple answer. However, this time, the answer was unmistakably simple.
Without losing a second, they knew exactly who had pulled the cat out of the bag.
“Mr. Duraman, please tell us the truth. Did you leak the information to the public?”
“Don’t look at me like I’m a criminal here. Even I just had heard the incident from an acquainted cop right before I entered this room.” The chairman defended his innocence. “And you know the cops. They’re never good at keeping secret.”
“To hell who leaks the intel. We must deal with the situation beforehand.” A grand director with mustache warned.
Apparently they must hasten. However, before any decision was made, another knock on the door promised more bad news.
Another man with the same clothing as the previous one hasted to their seats and poured more documents down. “Sir, several major partners want to reconsider our collaboration because of our financial issue.”
From worse to the worst, it was like a chain of dominoes. When the first one fell, the rest followed.
In the desperate time, the chief executive officer played his role. “Calm down everyone. We can solve the problem, together.”
His words effectively assuaged people around, and soon later, instructions were given.
“You there.” He pointed the employee. “Contact the associates and tell them we have gotten solution for the situation. Our finance will not be a problem. Mr. Ronald and Mr. Philip, please assist him to deal with our partners.”
Two grand directors nodded and left the room with the employee.
Then Duraman turned to Amelia and the other shareholders. “Now we have to make the young master’s shares public or else it will be too late.”
No matter how strong the bond between families got, when benefit was involved, bond didn’t mean a thing. Mere seconds after the chairman proposed the solution, all families’ representatives, except Amelia, agreed with his suggestion.
She smelt something off from the event, yet she had nothing to make any conclusion.
Most of them decided to sell their shares to avoid losing money. Once they still regained the original fund and the interest, they could always invest in somewhere else.
The meeting room was now filled with noises and phone calls. Everyone was trying to prevent the big loss and save their own asses.
In the middle of the storm, several people sometimes exchanged looks and concealed smiles.
Perhaps after today, everyone’s fate was going to change forever.