Dad's message

In the hushed confines of Francisco's meeting room, the air hung heavy with tension as his phone vibrated incessantly, each buzz a silent intrusion on the proceedings. Despite the distraction, Francisco remained steadfast in his focus, his attention firmly fixed on the discussion at hand.

But as the vibrations persisted, a ripple of unease spread among Francisco's assembled members, their eyes darting nervously from one to another. Sensing the growing discomfort, one member dared to speak up, his voice tentative amidst the palpable tension.

"Sir, I think someone is calling you," he ventured, his words a hesitant interruption in the midst of Francisco's discourse.

Francisco's response was measured, his tone calm but tinged with a hint of impatience.

"So?" he replied, his gaze unwavering as he dismissed the interruption with a wave of his hand.

"It's my phone. I will receive it when I want."

The member faltered under Francisco's gaze, unsure of how to proceed in the face of his boss's un