Chapter 9

The sudden urgency of the notification sent a ripple of curiosity through the workers, who began to murmur among themselves.

"What would be the reason for the urgent meeting?" one of the workers whispered, as they all speculated what could have prompted Enzo 's sudden summons.

The calmness and the trepidation somehow merged in the faces of the workers as they filed into Enzo 's office, treading like they were on eggs, knowing full well the volatile nature of their boss. The air was heavy; there was tension everywhere, filled with unsaid fears.

Sera stood at the back of the room, observing with an analytical mind the scene unfolding before her eyes. She let her eyes roam across the room, taking in even the minutest details of the workers' body language: how they avoided looking into each other's eyes, the way their shoulders sagged in defeat.

Enzo 's voice cut through silence as sharp as a knife.

"Cynthia," he called out, leaving no room for argument.

Cynthia, Marco 's assistant, stepped forward after a moment of hesitation. She quavered, "Yes, sir." Her gaze remained at the floor, hands clutched behind her back.

Enzo 's eyes screwed down, his stare intent to pierce into the core of Cynthia's very being.

"What kind of plan have you been able to work out?" he asked, his voice turgid with anticipation.

He sat on his executive chair; Enzo 's presence seemed to fill the room, his authority and power palpable. The workers held their collective breath as one, in bated anticipation, awaiting Cynthia's response.

His eyes cold and piercing seemed to pierce into the very soul of Cynthia as he sat in his executive chair. Still standing and with her eyes fixed on the floor, Cynthia spoke in a soft and calm voice, almost inaudible.

"I am so sorry, sir. I thought Mr. Tony's meeting was tomorrow, not today," she explained in a quivering voice, trying to defend herself.

Red-faced from anger, flashes of annoyance had sent his eyes darting away, as he pounded his fist on the table. His pounding seemed to echo with the strength of thunder across the room.

"Even though Mr. Tony is coming, at least you should have drawn a plan!!" exclaimed Enzo at the top of his lungs. "At least there should be something you come up with!" he continued with contempt.

Cynthia fell back in her seat, as if the force of the anger from Enzo recoiled her body. She took a deep breath and then spoke, her voice shaking all the while, "I am sorry, sir. I learned from my mistakes, and next time it won't be this way." She promised, still with a hung head, her voice barely audible.

The room fell silent, save for Enzo 's heavy breathing as he struggled to contain his anger. Workers were frozen on the spot, their eyes fixed at Cynthia, engraving faces full of sympathy and concern. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the weight of Enzo 's displeasure.

She tried to raise her head to face Enzo , but the anger still smoldering in his eyes quickly repelled her. She looked away, quickly returning her eyes to the floor, as if for refuge from the intensity in Enzo 's glare.

The ensuing silence was oppressive, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. It was in a calm and measured voice that Enzo finally spoke, an undercurrent of warning lurking in the shadows.

"Probably, you will have to correct this mistake in another company, not in mine, "Enzo said without looking up from the screen, his voice not showing an ounce of emotion.

Cynthia's face contorted in puzzlement. "Sorry, sir, what do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice tentative, to get a clearer explanation from Enzo of what he had just said.

But Enzo seemed to have already moved on, his attention focused on the task at hand. He turned to the other workers, his voice firm and authoritative.

"Everyone get back to work and continue whatever duties you are performing today," he instructed, leaving no room for further argument.

It was as if he hadn't heard Cynthia's question. His actions showed clearly that the matter was closed, at least for the time being. The workers all started to disperse, heading back to their respective tasks, while Cynthia stood still, her confusion and uncertainty still unresolved.

The tension in the air was palpable as, one by one, the other workers filed out of Enzo 's office until only Cynthia, Marco , and Sera remained standing. Cynthia's eyes remained fixed on Enzo , her face set in determination.

"Sorry.Sir," Cynthia stammered. Her voice was cold, detached.

"You didn't answer me," she accused after a moment.

A dark mood crossed Enzo 's face and flashed fire in his eyes.

"Do you want me to give you an answer?" he yelled, his towering height standing over Cynthia as he gets up from his chair.

She had been working there for only a while when Cynthia took a backward step, her eyes wild with fear. Already perspiring, the palms of her hands growing damp, she nodded uncertainty.

"Yes, sir, please," she whispered.

Enzo was not yielding an inch. Reckless eyes glowed like cold, hard gold. "Okay, I will do just that," he informed her, his voice dripping malice.

The room was stiff in anticipation, as each new breath was a thickening of atmosphere. Then, without a shred of emotion, as though cold and final, the bombshell fell from the mouth of Enzo himself.

"You are fired," he uttered-the words hanging in mid-air like a challenge. "Get your bags and leave your office right now."

The face of Cynthia had turned white as a ghost; her eyes were wide with horror and incredulity. It was as if she had been punched in the diaphragm, the breaths knocked out of her, and there she stood, frozen in silent shock while the words of Enzo seemed to resound throughout the office, cold and harsh in their reality.