CONRAD
I had stood at the top of the staircase, leaning against the cold railing, watching Amelia rush her breakfast, clutch the file I had given her and disappear from the house. She was punctual. Efficient, and it gave me satisfaction.
I settled down on the leather chair beside the window in my office. After many promises and failures, my father had finally acknowledged me and handed the company over to me.
Even if he looked reluctant when handing it over to me, I didn't care. Now it was finally mine, I would leave my prints everywhere around here. Every legacy my father had built with this company would fade quickly.
I wasn't satisfied with the answer Amelia had given the previous day. “Have you really been in this city for a year?" I had asked, looking at her eyes to see the lies.
