CHAPTER 5

(A day before the will reading).

Maximiliano Bastidas' body had not only been training for hours. The muscular and athletic body of the CEO of one of the largest, most controversial, and important corporations in the city had been working out for years.

And did the results pay off?

He worked out every morning if business allowed. It is the end of December, a week before Christmas, it was one of those days where his office took a back seat with the sole intention of exercising.

He needed it, he needed to drain urgently, and he needed exercise as much as he needed water or oxygen. Maximiliano longed to be able to free himself from the strong tensions generated in a year full of challenges. The past few months had been complicated, every single one, without exception.

The grass in his huge courtyard, almost flooded by the rain, made his steps more difficult to execute and with the spacious ceramic floors he encountered from time to time, he had to be careful not to fall.

"Sir! Sir!"

He stopped his trot immediately and turned around. His breathing was labored and had to squint his eyes to get a better look.

"Gladis?!" he asked, his voice raised to be heard above the waterfall. "What are you doing out here, Mrs. Gladis, for heaven's sake, you might get sick."

"No, young man, it's not a problem for me," the housekeeper answered, a woman in her sixties, with short, close-cropped hair full of gray, covered, at that moment, by a thick yellow raincoat. "You have an urgent call from Miss Evans, I didn't want to wait for you to come in to notify you."

He sighed, exhaling almost an entire cloud of mist. For Maximiliano, peace was not lasting, he thought so. It was his secretary who reminded him of that phone call.

"All right, thank you very much, but let's go in now. Don't go out like that again, Mrs. Gladis, you might get sick."

"Don't worry about me, sir." She thought about telling him that he could get sick too, but she understood many years ago that her boss was risky in many aspects of his life. "You can answer in your office, sir, I forwarded the call there," she said, as they walked into the house.

The man nodded and walked with his housekeeper to the back door of the house. A huge home, with impressive and majestic architecture, which he shared only with employees: his gardener, Mrs. Gladis, a cook, and some maids, all of them residing in a house next to the parking lot. The rest of the staff that lived in the house worked under a schedule and shift schedule.

Max and Gladis finally stepped through the thick wooden door, and the temperature provided by the house's heater hit them. The contrast with the weather outside was evident through the fogged glass of the windows and in every pore of their bodies.

After she asked permission to leave, Maximiliano, energetic, still standing on the pristine marble floor, shook his muddy shoes, wet and with some leaves stuck to them, on a carpet that welcomed whoever entered from there.

He pulled down the hood of his waterproof jacket and also the hood of his sweater, uncovering his auburn hair, and stirring it with his fingers to remove any residue the dew had left behind.

He walked through the great hall of his mansion, squeaking his sneakers on the beautiful material of the floor. There was no furniture in the place. With a living room to the east, the grand staircase to the west, and a doorway leading to a wide hallway that would lead to his office, he continued walking until crossed the threshold. Tossed the thick black wool gloves on the desk, seconds after entering and closing the door behind him. He picked up the speaker of the cordless phone, activating the speakerphone before placing it on top of the pack.

"Don't give me bad news, Lenis, please," he teased his secretary.

"And that's the way my esteemed boss says good morning to me," Lenis Evans's soft voice said from the other end of the line.

Max slumped back in his large dark brown leather chair before speaking.

"I imagine you called me on my cell phone?"

"That is correct."

"And when I didn't answer, you called here. You only do that in an emergency. Also, it's still early. What happened now?"

"Excuse me for calling you at home and this hour, but this can't wait."

Maximiliano went into tension when he heard those words. Things in his life and the lives of everyone around him had already calmed down a bit. The last thing he wanted was to add a new problem to the already calm waters.

"Tell me, what is it about?" he asked, voice tight.

"A communiqué has arrived via email informing us of the unfortunate death of businessman Fred Davison. Of course, I assumed you would want to be aware of this news as soon as possible."

The man was speechless for a couple of seconds.

"Max?"

"Fred Davison is dead?" he whispered almost to himself intending to be able to believe it.

"I have already arranged a floral arrangement with an agency in his country that I took from a list of contacts that the Protocol department handles, but I need your authorization to send them and... do you wish to place a special note?"

Lenis' boss wrinkled his eyebrows at the last question.

«A farewell message? Condolences? For that guy? What could I possibly say in that note?»

"No notes. Just send the flowers or whatever you have prepared. Nothing ostentatious, please. And find out when the funeral is."

"Ok. Are you planning to travel to England? I can schedule your ticket, just give me the green light."

Max thought for a moment about his answer.

"I must talk to your husband about this first," he almost whispered the words, thanks to the speed of his thoughts. "Is he in the firm?"

"Yes. I've sent you the email that came to us with the notice of Mr. Davison's passing, so you can see for yourself."

"Perfect, I'll check it out, thank you."

"Ah... Speaking of the Protocol department." Max paid special attention. "Their director, Bobby Clarence, has sent a request for a replacement for one of his assistants."

Max was surprised to hear that.

"The head of the protocol department called the President's office for that? It has to be something important. Who does he want to replace and why?" Lenis was silent. "Lenis?"

"Mr. Clarence wants to replace Carla Davis," the secretary said in a measured tone of voice.

Maximiliano straightened up in his seat after that second piece of information. The morning came with more surprises.

"Will you put me in context, please?" he asked with absolute seriousness.

"Miss Davis has a health problem. A bit particular problem." He furrowed deeply. "Mr. Clarence has sent us, in addition, the medical permission she gave him."

"What's wrong with her?"

Lenis took a short pause before answering.

"Her medical note was signed by a mental health specialist..."

"What does the doctor's note stipulate, Lenis?" he interrupted.

She cleared her throat softly.

"Post-traumatic stress."

Max clenched his jaw. He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, leaning his back against the chair.

"For Clarence," she continued," it was important to announce it to the Presidency. He talked about the dates we are going through and that the Protocol department is in charge of organizing the Christmas party. To be without one of his four assistants is a delicate matter. According to him, he needs a replacement immediately."

Maximiliano took the time to think about all the information.

"Post-traumatic stress," he whispered, "It's normal for her to experience something like this, or am I wrong? Although after everything that has happened, it's the first time I've heard of her requesting a leave of absence for health reasons."

"Yes, it's something that could happen to her, but you can't blame yourself for that. All the things that happened in the company this year were too stressful for any of us. May I have a little more say about that? A little... more personal?"

"Please."

"This is a medical misconduct like any other and what I think is that Mr. Clarence wants to magnify the facts behind such a medical report. I'm sure he wants us to see what's going on with her..."

"With bad intentions?"

"You said so."

"But that's what you mean, isn't it?" Max didn't like detours.

And she knew it, so she sighed, resigned.

Yes, that's right. That's what I mean."

"So, one of my managers wants to replace one of my employees just because of a medical lapse? That's what all the fuss is about?"

Somehow Max understood that she was smiling.

"Yes, that's right. That's right. Although "replacement" might be a better word."

"Wow, my goodness. Not only does he want to replace her, he's asking for a stand-in for her." He shook his head, "We don't do subs in my company, Lenis, you know that. Look, I'm tired of these people who think they own the consortium because they have a high position and always want to give their opinion about things that happen to me personally. I'd like to know how Clarence found out that Carla and I..." He cleared his throat and sighed, "It's unfortunate that the guy is good at what he does," he whispered to himself. "Please, tell Clarence to go to the Human Resources department and ask for loan assistance there, not the President's office. Remind him that we don't handle that. Let him understand that we don't consider that medical report to be aberrant or embarrassing and not to talk to us about replacements again, especially not today."

"Understood."

If Max could hear thoughts, especially over the phone, he could have heard Lenis say, "And less so if it's about Carla Davis, right?"

Chief and secretary chatted about a couple of other things and the call ended, with a thoughtful, very thoughtful Max.

Rain, exercise, and stress drained in the morning, but it only took one phone call for everything to change overnight.

A very important man in his life had just passed away and a lady, also important, was ill and would miss work at a very important time for the company.

Fred Davison, a business enemy from his past had died. Carla Davis, one of the four assistants in the Protocol department, which was equal to Press within the consortium, was ill due to stress and he sensed that the blame for this condition was born after events that had occurred months before between both of them.