Horrible Problems Deserves Horrible Solutions

Friday | Crown Building

“Sir, I just received an invitation from Mr. Barkley. He says he would like you to come to a dinner party at his mansion next Saturday,” I say to Mr. Crown politely as he is sitting in his chair, his fingers running across the keyboard of his laptop.

“Refuse the invitation. I already have plans this Saturday,” he orders with high authority.

“Noted, sir.” I type something on the iPad I am holding, composing a response for Mr. Barkley's invitation. I scroll down to unread messages on his emails and finds a message from someone that impacts me such.

I hesitate for a bit.

“You have a message from Barbara Lang, sir,” I stutter intermittently.

Mr. Crown pauses and the faint sound of the keyboard suddenly vanishes. His eyes casts up at me. The same eyes that used to look at me with interest. But now, beneath those blue eyes oh his is pure nothing but ice.

“What does she want?” He sighs disappointedly, like he has received a message from someone who's in debt with him