Chapter 4: A Surprising Revelation
1039 Words
Immediately she stopped—giving heed to her boss's command—the door opened, letting in Mr. Morgan, Desmond's uncle.
Morgan stepped in, instantly sensing the tension in the room. With a hint of anger in his voice, he asked,
“Is everything alright? Something seems wrong.”
He asked boldly. He normally visited the company once in a while to check on his nephew and observe how the business was progressing, as he was also a partner in the company.
“Good morning, sir,” Tiffany greeted. “I think I’ll be taking my leave now,” she added politely, making her way out of the office.
Surprised and intrigued, Morgan walked toward the desk where Desmond stood.
“Good morning, Uncle,” Desmond greeted, trying to push Tiffany’s matter out of his mind—at least for the moment.
Taking his seat, Morgan was offered a more comfortable one, as Desmond said,
“Please make yourself comfortable, Uncle. I was just about to check in on some departments and see how operations are going.”
“But since you’re here, I’ll postpone that,” he added with a slight smile, reaching into his drawer for a bottle of whiskey. He pulled out two glasses and poured a modest but sufficient amount into each.
As he did, his uncle asked,
“I could clearly see the look of hatred and detestation in your eyes towards that girl. Tell me—what is it about her that you hate so much?”
“Of course, I know you’ve been cold and strict with everyone who answers to you, ever since you lost your father. But the anger I saw in your eyes toward that girl was far beyond normal. What’s really wrong? You know you can talk to me, son.”
Desmond looked at his uncle, knowing how much of a strong pillar he had been in his life ever since his father passed away in that brutal car accident.
Mr. Morgan had always been close to the family—even before Desmond’s father’s death—and their bond only grew stronger afterward. He was the one person Desmond couldn’t bring himself to act arrogantly toward. He saw him as both a father figure and a mentor.
Mr. Morgan was always there when Desmond needed someone to talk to or lean on. He could confide in him about anything.
“She’s a staff member here,” Desmond responded. “She has this strong aura of boldness and confidence that pisses me off. You know how much I hate it when people stand up to me or challenge how I give orders.”
“This lady stood up to me—in just her first week at work. Ever since then, I’ve harbored this strong hatred and resentment toward her. I want to frustrate her, displace her, and make her so uncomfortable that she leaves. I need to show that I’m the boss and that I run things my way.”
“But it seems the more I see her, the more my indignation burns. I just want to pour out my wrath on her. That’s what you walked in on.”
He took a sip of whiskey and placed the glass back on the table.
“I think I’m going to relieve her of her duties. I can’t bear her presence any longer.”
Smiling calmly, Mr. Morgan replied,
“When did you say she started working here?”
“Just last week,” Desmond said. “She was accepted because she met the company’s requirements—good credentials and all—but—”
“Then just be calm with her,” his uncle interrupted. “Don’t fire her—at least not yet.”
“Don’t let your inability to tolerate her push her away. If she has the qualifications, let her work. If she proves incompetent, then you can take action. But first, give her a chance to prove how useful she can be to the company.”
Mr. Morgan spoke with clarity, wisdom, and calm authority—his words eloquent, persuasive, and deliberate. It was one of the many qualities Desmond admired in him. His uncle had a way of delivering powerful advice without pressure or conflict.
“Hmmm,” Desmond sighed. “Alright, sir. I’ve heard you. I just hope you’re right, because I truly can’t deal with her anymore.”
“Just try,” his uncle urged. “Don’t let your emotions or rage dictate your decisions. She might turn out to be a valuable asset to the company. In fact, the name our business partners from the other city gave me regarding the project and the documents they received—it was hers.”
“There’s no doubt she’s the one. They spoke very highly of her, expressing admiration for her confidence and professionalism. They said she gave a speech and presentation that captured and convinced everyone. According to my source, she had a powerful way of making the importance and advantages of the project crystal clear.”
“In other words, she delivered perfectly. I didn’t know it was her until I saw the name tag on her dress, and that’s when I realized she was the one. I wonder why you haven’t seen that side of her yet.”
Desmond sat in stunned silence, staring at his uncle, his expression saying, Are you serious? He had never imagined such a thing—especially considering that he had sent her on that assignment against her will. Yet she delivered her best.
“Desmond!” his uncle called, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Are you alright?” Mr. Morgan asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond responded quickly.
“So, how are things going with the other deals and production?” his uncle asked.
“Everything is going fine. We’re improving steadily, both in product quality and marketing strategy. In short, we’re on the winning side.”
He smirked slightly, a flash of confidence in his expression.
“Alright,” Mr. Morgan said, standing up and preparing to leave.
Just before exiting, he said something that caught Desmond’s attention—something that would reshape his thinking and redirect his next pursuit.
- Writer
