Chapter 5
The bodyguards instantly halted, obeying the last command of their boss. They all turned simultaneously, looking at their boss with confused gazes.
Hearing that also, James paused, his shaking legs trying to get steady. He let out a deep and safe breath, trying to calm his already racing heart but he wasn't able to control it. It was still pondering too fast in fear.
The onlookers' expressions also changed from that of pities to that of surprises. Their expectations were twisted.
Meanwhile, as everyone wore surprise expressions, the old man moved forward with grace. Each of his steps is screaming wealth. The aura instantly changed as a result of his expensive perfume spraying all over his body.
He was wearing a branded quality brown suit with a golden Rolex rotating on his high-profile watch.
James watched as the old man approached him, his body shivering heavily, feeling uncomfortable.
Getting to James, the old man pulled off his dark sunglasses, staring intensely into James' wavering eyes. He stared at him for moments before saying, "Why do you look so familiar to me?" His gaze steadied the more in James'.
James raised an eyebrow, immediately shaking his head heavily, disagreeing without saying a word.
"I feel so connected to you." The old man continued, holding James' hand emotionally. He didn't retrieve his hand. Just confusion written all over his face with his eyes blinking.
The old man then gestured to one of his bodyguards to dismiss the onlookers, which was instantly executed.
With the whole lobby cleared except for the staff, who were engrossed in their tasks for the day, the man then said to James, "Please, come with me to my office." He ordered, walking away, and the bodyguards loosened their fists, composed their demeanors, and trailed behind him.
James stood there, perplexed, unsure of what decision to take next. He turned around, looking in the old man's direction as he walked with his bodyguards.
James' heart skipped a bit at that moment. I badly need this job but not in this way. What if he's up to no good? Because I can't remember meeting or seeing someone as rich as him." He mumbled to himself, running his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated.
"Should I go and see him?" He contemplated, biting his lips, having clear doubt about how nicely the man spoke to him.
He took a deep breath, lost in thought for a while. Then, he mumbled again, making up his mind, "I'll go and see him. If he should harm me, then it's fine, and if not, then it's also fine. Nobody cares about my existence, so there's no point in being bothered about getting harmed."
With his mind made up, James rushed upstairs with shaky legs, catching up with the man.
Soon, upstairs, the old man halted in his tracks, standing in front of a sophisticated door, and gestured at his bodyguards to stop. They quickly nodded their heads, bowed them in respect, dispersed themselves, and set themselves at the corner of the wall of the office.
The door was crafted from rich, dark mahogany wood, the frame was reinforced with solid brass, adding an extra layer of durability and sophistication. Its surface was adorned with a subtle, hand-applied finish that accentuates the wood's natural beauty.
It was also equipped with top-of-the-line hardware, including a solid brass doorknob and a high-security lockset. The lock features advanced biometric authentication, a touchscreen, and a digital keypad, ensuring that only authorized persons can gain entry.
James watched from a bit far as the old man input a code and the door to the office gently creaked open.
He nodded his head in stupefaction. He had never seen that before. The old man turned and informed, ignoring his surprise, "Come in, young man," he said, leading the way in.
James was a little bit frozen. "Okay, sir." He replied, nodding although skeptical. He joined in with widening eyes, and the door closed behind him.
The office was particularly large and sophisticated, exuding and screaming wealth from every corner of it. All the furniture was nicely arranged in a manner that showed decency and professionalism. A vase of beautiful and potted flowers added to the beauty of the office.
There were framed photos of the man professionally placed on his table, and artwork pictorial awards were also placed on the wall.
Light illuminated the office and the presence of the air conditioner turned on gave James a warm and welcoming atmosphere.
"Wow, this is beautiful. Another world on earth." James almost screamed, taking in the place with his right hand cupped onto his mouth and his left hand holding firm his filed documents. His eyes darted from one corner of the office to another.
The old man noticed James and chuckled, "Please, have a seat." He instructed, snapping James out and he slowly took a seat opposite him. "Thank you, sir."
The man smiled and it slowly disappeared as it came. His demeanor now shifts to more seriousness and personal concern. "If not mistaken, you came for the interview, right?" He asked.
James nodded, his focus now on the man, "Yes, sir. But it was canceled." He answered with shaky lips, feeling sad.
The man bit his lips and clarified, "I actually ordered its cancellation for a personal reason best known to me." He halted, his gaze fixated on James the more. "But can I see your documents?" He demanded, his voice gentle.
It was as if it was what James was waiting to hear. "Yes, sir, yes, sir." He quickly nodded, repeating his answer, his voice firm.
He brought out the file where all his documents were neatly arranged, handing it to the man, "Here it is, sir." He announced politely, bowing his head.
The man started to remove each document from the file one after the other while James watched him with a smile creeping onto his face.
As the man began going through the document, his eyes swung open as he paused, staring at James.
James couldn't avert his eyes. He shifted on his seat, starting to feel uncomfortable but his eyes didn't leave the man's nor the man's constant stare left him.
The room, all of a sudden, instantly became a place of 'stare at me, and I stare at you.'
When James couldn't have it anymore, he asked, "Sir, what's wrong? You stopped all of a sudden. Is anything the matter? I can call your men if you aren't feeling fine." He said thoughtfully, uncomfortable.
The man shook his head, his eyes formed with tears, but he held them back; however, James noticed it. "I'm fine, my son." He responded, slowly going through the documents back again.
James almost chuckled at the man's reply to him. My son? What does he mean? He muttered, looking at the man.
"Sir," he excused and called, a bitter smile on his face, "I know you were just joking about your comment." He corrected, his demeanor slowly changing. "I'm an orphan. Raised on the street," The man dropped the documents on the table, looked at him, and a tear dropped from his eyes.
James ignored it and continued, "till I got to this level. Living as the live-in-son-in-law of the William family. I just came here to get a job." He chuckled and added, "So, I ain't worthy of being called 'son' by a prominent person like you."
The man felt the heaviness of James' words. He shakily leaned forward on his seat, shaking his head slowly with an emotional expression.
He gently, softly, and emotionally held James' hand, his eyes bored into him, still shaking his head, "You aren't an orphan, son." He repeated his words, causing James' eyes to wink in misunderstanding.
"What do you mean I'm not an orphan?" James asked, raising his eyebrows at
the man.
The man then dropped a bomb that shattered James' heart, breaking the wall, "Because I'm your father, Mr. Thomas Crag."