Adaeze Ada Moretti.
27 year old Billionaire.
She's always been the reserved type. The type to take no shit from anybody, even if you are family. She once believed in the, 'three chances, you're done' rule. But that was thrown out the window, once s...
ATTENTION!: !PLEASE read author's note at the end!
"That's what getting to know someone is about. Judging them."
― Krystal Sutherland,
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Why can't I enjoy the comforts of my husband's home, hmm?
Why do incompetent people mess everything up, in my life,hmm?
Why am I even working, hmm?
Why? Why? Why?
Hey, whoever's up there? You! Yes, you. I better get a big, paycheck at then of this crap.
Rubbing my temples, I sighed. Looking at my 'employees', if that's what you wish to refer to them as. I glared at everyone in this room.
Not no, 'Who stole my cookie', glare. No!
It's a, 'Who fucked my shit up' glare. And with the ever, dramatic drop in temperature, they better pray, this problem, I snared, gets fixed soon.
"Would anyone like to inform me, why there has been a drop in income, this quarter? Hmm?" I looked around the room, praying some brave soul, would open their damn mouth.
"Their has been a new runner in the, Tech world, m-mam."
Shooting my head up, I look at owner of the voice. I was practically fighting off a smile.
I'm not that scary, why is he stuttering?
"Who?"
"Give me a godamn name, dammit"
"Petrov Industries, mam." He continued, his brown eyes, hesitantly meeting mine.
Petrov Industries? Petrov? Petrov? Petrov.
Humming, I asked, "What's he manufacturing? What's he selling? Tell me."
Silence. Absolute fucking silence.
What do I pay these people for, because it sure as hell isn't bloody silence.
"Mam?" The same voice from before questioned.
Raising my head to meet his eyes, once again. I raise my eyebrows.
"Uhm, his company mainly deals in, like electric wheel chairs, that drive their own. And, uhm location switches that basically does what Google maps does, but instead of WiFi all you have to do is press the thing and it gives the location of whoever you wish to find, once the other person has their own on and it's connected. So, uhm y-yeah." By the end of his revelation, his skin has turned pink.
Who is he?
And why haven't I met him before?
"What's your name?" I asked my tone, practically robotic.
