AN UNFORTUNATE DELAY

Chapter 5

AN UNFORTUNATE DELAY

High above the restless city, the office remained quiet.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the far wall, revealing a skyline that looked almost peaceful from that height. Far below, traffic crawled through the streets like slow-moving ants.

Inside the office, everything was perfectly organized.

Sharp.

Clean.

Controlled.

The man sitting behind the large glass desk preferred it that way.

His fingers moved steadily across the keyboard of his laptop as numbers and reports filled the screen. The faint ticking of a clock echoed softly against the walls.

He barely noticed the time passing.

Work had a way of pulling his full attention.

And when he worked, everything else ceased to exist.

Which was exactly why the soft knock on the door irritated him.

“Come in.”

The door opened hesitantly.

His secretary stepped inside, clutching a folder nervously.

“Sir… about your four o’clock meeting—”

His fingers stopped typing.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to the clock on the wall.

4:17 PM.

The silence in the room suddenly felt heavier.

He leaned back slightly in his chair.

“My four o’clock meeting?” he repeated calmly.

The secretary shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, sir. The investors from Sterling Holdings arrived about twenty minutes ago.”

Twenty minutes.

He hated being late.

Not because anyone dared complain.

But because he hated losing control of his schedule.

“And when,” he asked quietly, “were you planning to remind me?”

The woman swallowed.

“I thought—”

“That’s the problem,” he interrupted coldly. “You thought.”

Her face paled.

“Sir, I apologize. I’ll make sure—”

“You won’t.”

The words were simple.

Final.

She blinked.

“Sir…?”

“You’re fired.”

Her lips parted in shock.

“Please, sir, I—”

“Security will escort you out,” he said calmly, already turning his attention back to his laptop.

The conversation was over.

Moments later, the office door closed again.

He stood up, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.

Late.

He hated that feeling.

“Car,” he said shortly into his phone.

"He had to fire 3 people today, first the two managers, for not meeting to the two hours deadline now his secretary. Well they deserve it"

He picked the telecom and dialed HR.

"Find a secretary replacement for me"

"Yes sir"

.......

Minutes later, the sleek black car moved through the busy streets.

Inside the back seat, he sat with his laptop open on his knees, reviewing documents as the city passed outside the tinted windows.

“Faster,” he said without looking up.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied.

Traffic thinned as the car turned down a quieter street.

Then suddenly—

The driver slammed on the brakes.

The tires screeched loudly.

He barely reacted.

His eyes remained on the laptop screen.

“What happened?” he asked flatly.

“Someone stepped into the road, sir.”

He sighed faintly.

Without looking up, he pulled out his cheque book, wrote something quickly, and handed the cheque forward.

“Handle it.”

The driver turned toward him and collected it.

“Ok sir.”

Moments later he heard a knock on his window.

Knock.

Knock.

He looked up to see an angry young lady, was she the one that was nearly hit.

He leaned back slightly in his seat, watching her through the glass.

Up close, the anger in her eyes was unmistakable.

It was almost… entertaining.

For a moment, he nearly smiled.

A small tiger.

He pressed the button beside him.

The window slid down slowly.

The woman opened her mouth—

Then froze.

Her expression shifted completely as she looked at him.

Silence.

He watched her expectantly.

Nothing.

Yet another girl who lost her voice the moment she saw him.

He tilted his head slightly, irritated with himself for expecting something different.

“Are you done checking me out?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

The amusement faded quickly from his expression.

“If you have nothing to say, miss, don’t waste my time.”

The window began sliding up again.

Then—

A hand shot forward and stopped it.

He looked up.

The woman’s eyes were blazing again.

“Don’t think that because of that face of yours and your money you can do as you please.”

“But I can.”

“Well, maybe for others,” she snapped, “but definitely not with me. I don’t need your money. I need your apology.”

“My apology?”

He nearly laughed.

“An apology from me? Do you even know who I am?”

“I don’t care. Just apologize. You won’t die,” she hissed.

For a moment, he simply stared at her.

Then a slow smile appeared.

Now that was unexpected.

“Did you even check the amount on that cheque?” he asked casually.

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied immediately.

He gestured slightly toward the driver.

The driver stepped forward and held the cheque out again.

Reluctantly, she looked down at it.

Her eyes widened.

He noticed the exact moment the number registered.

“Does it matter now?” he asked with a faint smirk.

The woman looked up at him again.

This time, the anger in her eyes had mixed with something else entirely.

And for the first time since the car stopped—

He was genuinely curious about what she would say next.