Four

"Grandma, did you do it?" I had questioned her in her bedroom that morning. 

She was still in bed, sipping special tea always prepared for her ritual every morning. 

"Yes, I did. And I do not have regrets." She responded, her face and voice devoid of emotion. 

"W...w...what?" I sputtered. 

Grandma had taught me how to feel less emotion and not let those emotions show. But now, I felt something strange. Could not place a finger at what it was called, but it was there. Fear?

"How could you, Grandma?" I questioned her. 

"We needed the bakery," she shrugged, sipping from her tea. 

"How would this get it?" I almost snapped in annoyance, but I knew if I did, I would be punished. 

"It would leave his family with no choice but to sell the bakery and we would be ready to buy it. You should visit their home today to offer our condolences. Then persuade them into selling the bakery." She instructed me. 

Even though her act was ruthless, it would get us what we wanted. And the old man was surely going to die one day, Grandma only made it quicker. 

"But Grandma, his blood would be on your hands," I reminded her. 

She shrugged, "At least it is not on yours. You need to learn to take down barricades. As long as they pose a threat to you, pull them down. It does not matter how you do it, just accomplish it." 

"Yes, Grandma," I squeaked. 

"We are preparing a banquet for you tomorrow night," she informed me.

I groaned, "Is that necessary?"

Her eyes pointedly stared at me. "Of course it is. To create new allies. Oh child, when will you grow?" 

I nodded in understanding, exited her bedroom and picked up Cassidy from the office. We made a detour to a flower shop and then made our way to Mr. Hatcher's baker cum house. 

We arrived there to find throngs of people, mourning. Pushing our way into the house, we found Mrs. Hatcher wailing and one son holding unto her. The son that had been with him to the company gladly welcomed me, accepting the flowers Cassidy handed to him. 

"Accept Stone Culturist's condolence. We were so saddened by the news. Mr. Hatcher was a wonderful business associate," I drawled out, trying my best to look sad and touched. 

"How did it happen?" Cassidy asked.

My head snapped in her direction giving her a death glare but her attention was directed to the son. Cassidy looked very sad, like it was her own family affected. 

But she had no right to butt in. I brought her here and she was my employee. She should know this was all business. I growled mentally, my palms already forming fists. 

I looked away from her to Mrs. Hatcher just as she began to recount the death experience. "He always went golfing every evening. He never missed it. Yesterday, I insisted on going with him but he blatantly refused."

I rolled my eyes. I see he was not only stubborn to me then. His stubbornness led to his death. 

"He left and his car developed a fault. Led him to an accident," she finished. 

Clean. Nothing could be traced back to Grandma. I did not like this method but I knew I would not hesitate to use it if need be. I wanted to use a more subtle means: stealing the little customers they got by paying them not to buy from the bakery till it almost folds. But that would have taken a longer time to yield results.

"We know this is quite sudden but it is for the best. We heard you are almost bankrupt. We are here to help. You only have to sign these papers to sell your bakery to us." I pursued.

Mrs. Hatcher shook her head vehemently, "I can't. It is his legacy. I cannot do it."

The son who was at the office tried to persuade his mother. "Mammie, we do not have money. We need this money to at least give him a befitting burial. That bakery would not do that if we hold unto it."

Mrs. Hatcher seemed to think a while before asking how much we had to offer. 

"Thirty thousand dollars," I briskly answered. 

"Make it fifty and we have a deal," her other son negotiated. 

This family sure liked money. Fifty grand for an old rickety unprosperous shaft?

"Deal." I closed off and Cassidy handed me a file. 

Mrs. Hatcher signed and Cassidy wired the money to them. I stood up and marched out their house, the young man on my heels. 

"Miss Stone," he called me. 

I stopped and waited for him to approach me. "What is it?"

He scratched his head. "Well, our deal. You got what you wanted and it was not up to a week."

I took in the disgusting sight of this idiot. "I asked you to convince your old man and he died. Your brother increased the price. And you still want me to pay you when you should refund my money? Do not test me," I hissed and entered my car. 

We got to the office around ten am. It was already packed with people who either gaped at me or whispered when I passed by them. They knew better than talk trash. 

I got to the reception of my office to meet a ruckus. A young black man, dressed in cheap clothes, was trying to force his way into my office but my receptionist was in his way. 

"You can't go in there. Miss Stone is not even in," she frantically said. 

"I feel that you are lying to me. I really want to see her. It is urgent." He yelled, still trying to get into my office. 

"See me about what?" I asked, drawing all attention to me. 

I noticed his midnight black eyes first. They seemed to suck me in. His head had an odd shape and his hair was cut low. He looked like he had not shaved as stubbles were on his chin. He wore a loose multi coloured shirt, dirty denim trousers and old weary brown shoes. Not only were his clothes cheap, they were dirty and he definitely did not have a sense of fashion. 

"Can I talk to you in your office please?" He asked in a very strange accent. I could not pinpoint where he was from exactly. 

I scrunched my face in thoughts. "Do I know you?"

He smiled and shook his head, "You do not." I noticed the dimple on his right cheek. 

I stared at him blankly and said firmly. "My office is for certain kinds of people and you are not one of them. The dirt oozing from your clothes would surely leave my sparkling office in a mess."

His jaw grinded and he fixed his angry eyes on me. "I did not come here to be insulted. Because you were born with a silver spoon and you enjoy privileges some people can't does not give you the right to look down on anyone. If you are not rich, you would have surely ended up like me. But you can't end up like me, I have a heart and you do not."

I flinched at the impart of his words. They hit a spot and my palms formed fists. I fought to keep my composure.

"I can never be like you. I am better than you a hundred times. You are lazy. That is why you are the way you are. I am not lazy. I work hard to be where I am today. And having a heart is for the weak." I chanted from a lesson Grandma taught me some years back. 

"I had come with the intentions of seeing reasons with you. But I can see that your brain is as immature as your age. But I will still have to plead with you since I am at a disadvantage," he rasped, eyeing me. 

"That is right. I will always be at an advantage." I folded my arms over my chest and raised my head high. 

"Please, do not destroy the motherless babies home yet. Give us a week to vacate," he pleaded. 

I snorted, "A week? You have had years to do that but you did not. What makes you think you would do it in a week?"

"Your father was kind enough," he defended. 

I laughed derisively. "Since you can perform magic, I intend to make it more easier for you. Two days and we are demolishing the building with everything and anyone inside. We have harboured you and your kind long enough."

I made my way to the door and was about entering when he called out. "Your father would be ashamed to call you his daughter. You are nothing like him."

I turned to fire back at him but he was already gone. Who the hell was that man?