Kelvin showed up right as Tryson was wrapping up his morning shower, getting ready for a day of remote work from home.
Earlier, Tryson had let Kelvin know about his plans to remain at the estate for several weeks.
He had also given specific instructions to bring all the essential reports and documents.
The objective was to manage as much work as possible from the house, ensuring an effortless transition back to the office when it eventually became necessary.
Kelvin sat with quiet anticipation in the parlor, a room gently illuminated by the soft, natural light streaming in through the large, expansive windows.
Every detail of the space, from the sophisticated furniture to the gleaming, polished floors, radiated a sense of subtle, refined luxury.
After some time, Moses approached him, offering a courteous nod.
"Mr. Bliss is prepared to see you now," Moses announced in his typically calm and collected tone.
Kelvin trailed behind Moses as they made their way to Tryson's home office, a remarkable room filled with bookshelves and decorated with a minimalist yet elegant touch.
Upon entering, the two gentlemen promptly immersed themselves in the day's agenda, thoroughly examining the reports and strategies with meticulous attention to detail.
Their conversation was drawing to a close when Tryson, reclining in his chair with a thoughtful demeanor, remarked, "Alexander Johnson. We must devise a plan that will truly leave a lasting impression on him if we hope to clinch this contract."
The mention of the name resonated through the room like a sudden clap of thunder.
Beyond the confines of the room, Angel halted abruptly, her heart pounding with intensity.
She had been wandering through the corridor without any particular direction, casually scrolling through her phone, when suddenly a name appeared that jolted her like a bolt of lightning.
A constriction gripped her chest, and her eyes expanded in shock and disbelief.
Alexander Johnson.
Was it possible that she had heard correctly?
Without hesitation, Angel entered the office, her typical elegance now overshadowed by a pressing sense of urgency. As the door swung open, her arrival instantly drew the focus of the two men inside.
"Tryson," she spoke, her voice maintaining a calm steadiness, yet there was an unmistakable undercurrent of unease beneath her words.
Tryson swiveled towards her, his eyebrows knitting together slightly in unexpected surprise.
"Angel?" he responded, his voice a blend of curiosity intertwined with a touch of concern.
He adjusted his position in the chair, intrigued by what might have prompted her to speak to him so abruptly.
"Angel's voice wavered a bit as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. 'You mentioned Alexander Johnson,' she said, trying to sound steady.
Tryson observed her with a keen eye, tilting his head in contemplation. 'Indeed, I did mention him. Is there a particular issue with that?' he inquired, his tone remaining calm but laced with a hint of curiosity."
Angel paused, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty.
The connection between her father's name and Tryson's business sent a wave of anxiety through her. She was all too familiar with her father's character—Alexander Johnson was not a man to engage in any venture without a hidden agenda. His involvement with Tryson's company could only spell trouble.
"I... I just..." Angel's voice trailed off as she tried to steady her breathing. She felt the walls closing in around her, the weight of her secrets pressing down harder than ever.
Tryson's gaze sharpened, his instincts telling him there was more to her reaction than she was letting on. "Angel, if there's something you're concerned about, you can tell me," he said gently, though his tone carried a note of caution.
She bit her lip, her mind grappling with conflicting emotions.
Could her father have discovered her relationship with Tryson? Was this his way of trying to control her once again?
The mere thought sent a shiver down her spine.
"Is your company the one providing this contract, or are you seeking to obtain it from him?" she eventually inquired, her tone deliberately balanced.
Tryson reclined in his chair, a hint of mild surprise flickering across his face. "We're actively working on securing the contract," he announced, his voice maintaining a balance between casual and assured. "However, Angel, if this is concerning our work, there's no need for you to be anxious. My team is well-equipped and fully capable. I have complete confidence in their ability to manage it correctly."
Angel felt her stomach twist.
The issue wasn't the company or the contract; it was all about her.
She sensed herself ensnared in the intricate web of her father's manipulations, a constant worry gnawing at her that this was his method of reeling her back under his influence.
"What if..." She paused, aware that her next words might seem unusual. "What if you step back from chasing that contract?"
Tryson blinked, his face transforming from a look of confusion to one of sheer disbelief. "Why on earth would we ever walk away from a deal worth a billion dollars?" he questioned, his voice growing sharper, even though he made an effort to maintain an even tone.
Kelvin, who was seated quietly in the room, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her suggestion, although he chose to remain silent, adhering to professionalism.
"It's just..." Angel started, trying to articulate her thoughts. Her phone buzzed in her hand, drawing her gaze downwards almost automatically.
Arthur.
Her heart momentarily stopped, and a wave of panic surged through her. Responding was impossible—not with Tryson sitting so close. She rejected the call, her fingers quivering a little.
"I'm suggesting that perhaps it might not be worth the trouble," she went on, her voice trembling slightly. Just then, her phone buzzed once more, the display illuminating with the same familiar name.
Arthur.
Angel tightened her jaw, her heart thumping more intensely in her chest. She rejected the call once more, but the atmosphere in the room had already grown more charged.
"Tryson remarked, his voice calm yet tinged with curiosity, 'You really ought to answer the call.'"