01

PROLOGUE

* * *

He stepped into the boardroom with a man and woman in tow. The formal wear mixed with the serious attitude created an official feeling. The people who were already in the luxurious room stood up in greeting as a sign of acknowledging his presence. After taking a look at the bunch of people before him, he sat down in his spot signalling everyone to follow suit. No one dared to speak. He opened a file right away, without looking up, he gave a cue to a young man for the presentation to begin.

"The goal of our new store will be to sell shoes at a lower price so that our customers-," He was cut short by a cold remark.

"You mean to tell me you want to lower our profit margin!?" He rolled his eyes as he went through the file.

"Um sir, I'm not necessarily saying..."

"This company is built off of integrity and quality, my father did not build this company for it to simply be mediocre, if there is not a better pitch by Tuesday at noon, you'll be fired," he boomed, the room suddenly feeling ice cold.

"But... may I finish?" the unfortunate boy trailed off as his boss got up and had already begun to leave the room, without a bit of emotion across his face. His assistants who had followed him, walked out with him as well, boredom plaguing their faces.

"Who is he to treat people that way?! Who does he think he is!?" He cried in exasperation.

The woman in red piped up, "He's Blayze Norman, the CEO and president of these department stores, some of the top in the world you know... He owns this company."

"Yes I know, it was a rhetorical question," he irritably commented, picked up his files, and stormed out of the room.

***

He sat in his shiny black office chair, his timeline for the upcoming month as two men walked through the entrance.

"They're posing as a threat? Since when has this company grown big enough to possibly get close to hurting us?" Blayze questioned them with ferocity.

Sharing a look, one of the men responded, "We've tried to schedule a meeting with one of their representatives to create some sort of co-operation, but it has fallen through each time."

Blayze stood up from his seat and got in front of the two men.

"So, are you telling me this whole time you have found this predicament entirely too unimportant to report to me, yet according to these charts, our sales have decreased by a whopping 20%?" The men were caught off guard, not expecting to be asked all of the questions at once. Silence filled the room, darkening it like a cloud.

"Well sir, that's not really the source of the problem... actually sir, when your father was the active CEO and residing president, he loaned about ten million dollars. He was best friends with Carter, of the Carter Stores and loaned the money to them after a project had failed. It was originally five million, but they continually asked for more after asking for more and more, then eventually your father passed away. But that money is what has been restricting our advertising and growth budget." As the story unfolded, it caused Blayze to stop and think, how come he had never been aware of this?

"Carter owes us ten million dollars? And they've paid none of it back? My father was lenient with people. Mr. James, start a brief overview on this case, written and get it to me as soon as possible. I'll need some time to think on where to start with this case," he requested. Mr. James responded with a curt nod. Although Mr. James was older than Blayze, Blayze being in his late twenties and he was in his early forties, Mr. James had grown to respect his boss on many levels. Him, moderate in height. He had grey streaks in his brown hair which match his eyes perfectly, the wrinkles around his eyes showed signs of stress and hard work. Together, the men got ready to take on a new task.

"Mr. James," Blayze called after him, "You've been working at this company for the last ten years, you probably know more about what happened with my father and Carter than anyone, I'd like you to give your input and ideas on how to handle this."

"Yes sir, of course," responded Mr. James politely.

A knock on the door broke him out of his working haze.

"Come in." Blayze spoke up. A young woman around her late twenties walked in, her straight chocolate hair blowing behind her as she stepped. She was fair in complexion and was dressed in a professional black pencil skirt and a sky blue chiffon blouse. With a small planner in hand, she said,

"I'm sorry for the disturbance sir, but you have a function that you must attend this evening and you have to get going."

"Okay, please get the driver and car in place," he told her, responding with a nod before she left the office. Soon after, he left for his home to change into something suiting for the occasion.