Chapter 28

The halls of Wellington Holdings hung in silent turmoil, a tempest brewing, waiting to erupt from beneath their tranquil surface. Since Jake's death, the company had lived in a frail balance, and while Ronald showed his usual icy exterior, people who worked close enough with him knew something had changed. Something was missing, and though no one dared mention it, that absence was felt.

Jake had been more than just a vice president. He was a force that balanced the company, someone who stood firm between Ronald and the chaos brewing beneath the surface. And now, with him gone, the cracks in Wellington Holdings were widening.

But today, the tension wasn't about the company's market performance or its internal power struggles.

Today, it was about Jake's final wish.

Ronald sat at his office desk, his fingers interlaced as he stared out the floor-to-ceiling window. The view of the city below was amazing, but his mind was elsewhere. The knock on his office door was sharp and deliberate.

"Come in." The voice was even, expressionless.

The door opened, a man stepped in-mid-older probably in his mid-fifties-in an impeccably tailored dark gray suit with an immaculate leather briefcase, expression unreadable.

“Mr. Wellington,” the man greeted, closing the door behind him.

Ronald turned to face him. “Mr. Daniels,” he acknowledged. “I assume you’re here for something important.”

“I am,” Mr. Daniels replied, adjusting his glasses. “It’s regarding the matter of Jake Wellington’s will.”

A flicker of emotion crossed Ronald’s face, but it was gone before it could be identified. He leaned back in his chair, gesturing for the lawyer to continue.

Jake made a decision regarding his shares before his death," Mr. Daniels said. "A decision which, as of now, is to be carried out per his last will."

Ronald nodded, an unreadable expression. "And exactly what does it say?"

He set his briefcase on the table, opened it with certain quick motions of the fingers. He pulled out a document and unfolded it meticulously, placing it in front of Ronald.

Ronald looked at the first page, but in a second, his eyes returned to Mr. Daniels. "Get to the point."

The lawyer adjusted his glasses again. "Jake's shares in Wellington Holdings will not be transferred to you or retained within the family."

Ronald's fingers curled slightly. "Then to whom?"

There was a moment of silence before Mr. Daniels said the words that shifted the air in the office.

"To the person he cared about the most."

A muscle in Ronald's jaw quivered. His grasp on the document tightened as he scanned the lines for a name. But Mr. Daniels did not give one.

Instead, he watched.

Waited.

Let the words sink in.

Ronald exhaled through his nose, his fingers clenching onto the armrest of his chair. "And who, exactly, is this person?"

Mr. Daniels merely snapped his briefcase shut. "You will find out soon enough.

The moment the lawyer was gone, Ronald didn't waste a single minute. He pressed a button on his intercom.

"Ethan...My office Now;."

A few moments later, Ethan, his long-time assistant, stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"You called, sir?"

Ronald's gaze was sharp as he leaned forward. "Have you heard anything about who the new president will be?"

Ethan didn't say anything for a moment before he spoke. "There have been murmurs among the board, but nothing concrete. It is as if this is being kept close to the vest."

Ronald's jaw flexed. "Find out. Now!" he commanded.

Ethan nodded abruptly and left the office, leaving Ronald to his thoughts.

Something wasn't quite right.

Jake had planned something before he died.

And Ronald wasn't going to rest until he uncovered just what that was.

Meanwhile, across town, a far-from-jolly conversation was going down.

Jake's assistant, Mason, sat parked at the side of the car, his telephone stuck to his ear as he listened intently.

"It is worsening," he grumbled at one point, his expression a bit tight-lipped. "The stability of the company, just like the precarious swinging of the board, got restive. and now with the situation between Jake's shares.

A voice came through the other end, distorted, deep, and modulated. "Be patient. It's all falling into place. We knew this would happen."

Mason let out a sigh, his eyes checking around him warily. "I don't know how much longer I can cover for. Ronald's is going to get suspicious.

The voice on the other end sounded calm. "Then let him be. The more questions he asks, the closer he comes to unraveling the truth. And when that happens, we will be ready."

Mason swallowed hard. "And what about you?"

There was a pause. Then—

"I will return when it's time."

The call went dead.

Mason stared into his phone for a long second before driving into the night.

At the estate of Rodriguez, Beatrice sat in the big lounge, her fingers tracing the rim of the wine glass delicately. The house was peculiarly quiet; the usual aura of controlled chaos had given way to an unearthly stillness.

She had convinced herself that Amelia's disappearance was a victory-a final, decisive move that rid them of an inconvenience.

And yet, something gnawed at her.

The conversation with that weird man still echoed in her head from last night. What he had told her, though vague, carried a warning within.

"Enjoy your victory while it lasts."

The weight of those words was upon her.

A disturbance of footsteps in the air caught her mind. She turned to Mr Rodriguez, who stepped into the room.

"Who was it that you spoke to last night?" His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it.

Beatrice's fingers constricted on her glass, but her smile never wavered. "Just an associate from the foundation," she replied silkily. "We were discussing an upcoming charity event."

Rodriguez continued to watch her for a while, then nodded. "Hmm."

Beatrice took a slow sip of wine. "Why the sudden interest?

Rodriguez chuckled softly, but the mirth didn't quite make it to his eyes. "No reason. I just found it. unusual, that's all."

Beatrice cocked her head. "Unusual?"

"You don't usually do business that late at night."

There it was. The suspicion beneath the surface.

Beatrice set her glass down, resting back against the velvet cushions. "Sometimes, business requires late hours," she said coolly. "You should know that.

Rodriguez smiled, but it was the sort of smile that layered underneath itself. "Of course."

The silence thereafter wasn't awkward. It calculated.

And though neither of them spoke it, they both knew-

This wasn't the end of the conversation.

Only the beginning.

**********

The sound of an envelope sliding under the door resounded through Ronald's office.

He frowned, pushing away from his desk and stepping toward it.

As he picked up the envelope, his eyes narrowed.

No sender. No markings.

He tore it open, pulling out a single sheet of paper.

The words were typed, simple, yet chilling.

"You’re not the only one watching."

A slow, cold smile spread across Ronald’s face.