Of course, that was the plan. She was playing right into my trap.
" I'll do whatever you wish for. Just spit it out. " she leaned close, eagerly waiting for me to speak.
" I don't think you can fulfill my wish." I replied, rolling my eyeballs.
" Try me, Raymond. You want money? How many millions? Spit it out, Raymond. " she said, tears strolling down her cheek.
A sly smile played on my lips. I looked into her eyes, my voice barely a whisper.
I snapped my fingers and in a few seconds the driver came rushing in with some files.He kept it on the table and excused himself into the car.
" Sign those, will you? " I commanded, the venom in my voice making the request look like a threat.
" What are these? " she asked, pointing at the files. She picked it up and threw a glance at it. Her gaze captured some words, she looked at me and for a moment, she drifted from her sober mode into a puzzled state. Her facial expression said it all.
" You can't do this Raymond. At Least not to me. " she said. " Raymond, you can't do this. " her voice shaky and full of emotions.
" I'll give you five minutes to sign it or your father will rot in jail. " I replied, my facial expression cold as ice.
It's no big deal giving off her father's company to me. I wanted them to feel what I felt. The constant feeling of being rejected, worthless, reminded me of how you amounted to nothing but a fool.
My voice was low as I spoke, "The clock is ticking, Roselle. Time is not on your side." I tapped my foot impatiently, my demeanor icy and unforgiving.
She picked up the pen, her hands shaking as she attempted to sign the papers. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, and I felt a rush of satisfaction at her distress. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, trying to keep herself from crying any more.
"You're dampening the sheets with your tears," I said coldly. "Don't let another fall on it, otherwise you'll have my rage to contend with."
If there is one thing I know about Roselle, it's her ability and quest to sacrifice everything for her dad's safety.
As the last signature was made, she pushed the papers across the table to me. She reached out her hand in a gesture of surrender, head bowed in shame.
"Pleasure doing business with you," I said coolly, taking the papers from her outstretched hand.
I turned to leave, but before I reached the door, I heard a faint voice call out, "Raymond!" I stopped and turned to face her.
"Please reconsider," she pleaded. "There must be another way."
I shook my head. "There's nothing to reconsider. It's done." With that,I stepped out of the building and into the car, feeling the cool air rush in to meet me. I sank back into the leather seat as we pulled away from the curb, winding through the city streets. I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion wash over me. I felt like I could finally breathe again.
As we pulled up in front of the hotel, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had gotten what I wanted, and now I could finally relax.
I opened the file and saw her signature, neatly written in bold black ink. It was all over.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, dialing the chief of police. "You can release him," I said. " Send your account details! " I hung up the phone.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, the shrill ringing of my phone shattered the peace. I fumbled for it on the nightstand, and saw that it was a text from the chief of police. I sent him the money, and he confirmed receipt.
I closed my eyes once more, letting the cool breeze from the open window wash over my skin.
Just as I was about to doze off, the shrill ringing of the phone pierced the silence once again. This time, I recognized the number as my father's. I answered the call.
"Hi, Dad," I said. I had never felt comfortable calling him "Dad" before, but the word came naturally to me now.
"Hey, son," he said. "I was wondering if you'd like to come visit me. It's been a while since I've seen you."
"I still have a lot on my plate, Dad," I said. "But I'll get there when I'm done." I didn't really want to talk about it, hoping he'd change the subject.
"I'm scheduled for surgery this weekend," he said, "and I want you to be there. Just in case anything happens. . "
My heart pounded in my chest. "You'll be fine, Dad," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "There's no need to think about the worst case scenario. Just text me the location, and I'll be there."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I was terrified that something had happened, but then my father spoke again.
"I know you're busy, and I don't want to burden you with this. I just . . . I'm worried, that's all." His voice cracked, and I felt a surge of sympathy for him.
The line went dead, and I thought the call had dropped. A few minutes later, I received a text with the location where I was to meet my pilot. I took a deep breath as I stepped onto the elevator, my heart pounding in my chest. This was the first time I was going to meet the man who claimed to be my father. A million questions raced through my mind.
As the elevator door opened, I rushed out without even noticing the person standing beside me. I was lost in my own thoughts, consumed by the anticipation of finally meeting my father. I hurried out of the building, ignoring the greetings from the workers who called out to me.
As I stepped into the car, I was overwhelmed by a sense of urgency. "We need to get there faster," I said to the driver, my voice shaking.
The hours-long drive to the airport seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it, we were pulling up to the private hangar. There, I was greeted by the sight of a sleek, black jet with my name boldly written on the side.
"Wow," I said, my voice trembling with excitement. "How long has this been here?"
"It's been here since the day you were found," the pilot replied, a wide smile on his face. "We've been waiting for you."
I boarded the jet and sat back in my seat as we took off. As we soared through the sky, I gazed out the window, watching the clouds drift by below us. For a moment, I forgot about my anxiety.
I dozed off, lulled to sleep by the hum of the jet's engines. When I awoke, the air hostess was gently shaking me. "We'll be landing shortly," she said with a smile. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and gazed out the window, seeing the city below us. We were almost there.
As the wheels touched down, the jet decelerated, eventually coming to a stop on the tarmac. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up, feeling lightheaded from the long journey. I stumbled down the steps and onto the pavement, walking into the nearby hotel and collapsing into a chair in the lobby. I checked my watch - it was nearly 2 AM. I was exhausted.
I spent the night in the hotel, and the sun's rays woke me the next morning. I hit the road again, this time with renewed energy. Finally, after what felt like hours, I saw it in the distance - a massive mansion looming before us.
"Welcome home," the driver said as we pulled up to the front gate.
The mansion was a sight to behold - sprawling grounds, perfectly manicured gardens, and a massive fountain at the center of it all. But the most impressive thing about the property was the sheer number of people bustling about, tending to the grounds and the gardens. I could smell the scent of chocolate wafting from the kitchen, and I was suddenly aware of how hungry I was.
I stepped out of the car, my mouth agape as I gazed at the sprawling estate in front of me. "Wow," I said, my voice barely audible. "It's even more beautiful than I imagined."
I was led through the hallways, my eyes drawn to the sculptures lining the walls. Finally, I was ushered into the living room, and I was struck by its opulence. The chandeliers glittered overhead, and the furniture was clearly expensive. I couldn't help but feel a little out of place.
"Please, have a seat, sir," said the waitress, offering me a glass of whiskey. "They'll be with you shortly."
"You're late. He's dead." A cold dark voice spoke behind me.