"Sir, I think we have an issue," Phil said, his voice tight with unease.
He was dressed in a blue-striped shirt with sleeves rolled up neatly, his blonde hair neatly set and a brown goatee framing his chin, he had in his hand a blue file—the file Myron had grown so used to seeing each morning.
Myron did not seem to want to lift his head, as whoever had entered the office was not on his mind. His concentration was keenly on the file lying on the near side of his desk.
He didn't plan on looking up, because the file was the very same one that should never be there: the haunting memory of a business deal that had failed. If it had come through, stocks would have been skyrocketing; he would be the richest man in Manhattan. But it didn't, and the "if only" of it clung to him like a parasite. It drove him mad-it made him think of what might have been, and he hated such thoughts. It was an obstruction, because he hated anything which interfered with his success.
That jarring sound caused by a knock on the door jolted him out of his reverie. With a pained exhalation, he shut the file all too hurriedly, cramming it back into the drawer, just as Phil stood before him. He had interrupted him at the wrong time.
Myron's gaze shifted to the file in Phil's hands. His stomach twisted.
What now? he wondered, narrowing his eyes as Phil moved toward him, holding out the document for him.
With unfazed indifference, Myron took up the document and laid it on the polished surface before him and flipped it open, quickly scanning through the contents. The moment his eyes caught the words, his pulse quickened.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low but filled with unmistakable irritation.
Phil hesitated, clearly uncomfortable under Myron's penetrating gaze.
At first, Phil didn't understand the question. Myron sounded disgusted with what he had brought. Maybe he was misreading his tone. But that was the way Myron usually sounded. He was calm and quiet but you could never tell when he was mad. That was why the staff were all afraid of him.
"It's a complaint from one of the companies we made a deal with last month.
"They claim that we didn't include the deals we had agreed on in their contract and they are withdrawing the agreement."
Myron's heart squeezed in his chest. His brows furrowed, and his thin nose flared in fury.
"What?!" He exclaimed.
Phil flinched at the sound of his voice thundering through the room. It was just like he had expected. Myron was going to freak out. He couldn't explain how possible this was. Everything had seemed in place and that was until now. How could that be possible? How could they have missed such vital information? An agreement they had made in the conference room. It didn't make any sense.
"How is this possible?" He asked.
Phil was speechless. He didn't know what to say to him. What could he possibly say? That there was a mistake? That they may have forgotten the whole agreement made as they made the contract. That was going to be diabolical. It would be fatal to their reputation.
"I have no idea, sir," he confessed with a sigh.
Myron ran his fingers through his jet-black hair with a sigh escaping his lips. He was thinking of what to do next. The deal was gone.
"You know?" Myron asked looking up. "Fire all of the staff involved in the contract."
Phil's heart shrank for the second time in five minutes. He should have known that this would happen. How could he have missed such a piece of vital information like this? Now the whole company was going to pay for a little mistake. Although the mistake was small, it was a costly one.
Myron was still fuming. His jaws were clenched. His hand was balled up into a fist and the other one was gripping his hair. He was furious at his staff. How could they have been so careless? This was the second time this has happened in the last two months.
What was going on? Was someone sabotaging his company? How could his company lose two big contracts in two weeks? What was he going to tell the shareholders in their next meeting? They would start to withdraw once they found out that their stocks weren't moving again. And no investors meant that his company was going to crumble. And he couldn't let that happen.
His eyes came back and he still found Phil standing before him.
"I thought I made myself clear?" He asked.
Phil was trembling. He didn't want to be the one to break the news to the staff but he didn't have any other choice.
"You did, sir," he said before turning and heading out of the office.
Myron sighed and leaned back in his seat when he realized that he was alone. He was thinking. What was he going to do now? He had to find out who was sabotaging his company, and by that, he would have to work with one of the best in the field in the state.
He blinked hard and sat upright as he recalled what Alicia had told him one time. Alicia, one of his colleagues, had shared advice with him. She had told him to get himself a financial consultant. A person who could manage the company's finances and also help him find out who was destroying his company.
He was going to give her a call now. Alicia had gotten herself one, and it had saved her little business. The financial consultant had helped her restore her business. And she was feminine. Although Myron wasn't the type to work with women, he couldn't help but think that he needed one that was going to help. He needed it immediately. He needed a financial consultant.
And so, he searched his desk. Alicia had given him her card. He had forgotten where he kept it. He pulled out the drawer on his right and searched it. After a few moments, he pulled the card out of the drawer and stared at it.
He could see the name brandished on the card. Irene Becker. He clenched his jaws and dialed the number on his telephone.
Then, he pulled the receiver to his ear.