Mirage | 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙅𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙤𝙣

Chapter 5

One of the President's bodyguards swiftly took the wrapped box from me as Mr. Jackson moved aside, glaring at me with pure rage as I stood there, still not understanding what was happening.

"I brought a gift, a peace offering for my precious nephew", said President Jackson, as he took the seat where his nephew was sitting before. Mr. Jackson had his jaw clenched, his fist in balls, almost shaking.

The other investors seemed to be ashamed, they didn't even dare to look at my boss in the eye. But from what I was sensing, the chairman had a greater plan.

"When Ms. Ronan told me about your heart disease, I knew that I had to offer you some kind of apology for the attitude I use towards you...", the President said and I went pale as one of the bodyguards unwrapped the box and showed us what seemed to be herbal medicine. I could only recognize Gingko, Hawthorne berries and Ginger.

I was frozen in my spot.

The President was smiling as the investors were mumbling between them. This was almost a definite checkmate against Mr. Jackson. Now that his disease was revealed, the investors would no longer push him to the top.

What made me nauseous was that my boss invented that I told him about his disease, which was a big fat lie. If Mr. Jackson though badly of me before, I can only imagine how he felt right now.

I didn't even realize that it was only the two of us in the room, everyone left us alone. The President had punished me thoroughly now and he had left me here to face my own fate – the fate he had invented for me.

"Mr. Jackson, I—", I stuttered, trying to get closer to him, but in a pure act of rage; he started throwing everything that was on his reach. He even threw a cup in my direction, failing to get me, only shattering on the wall behind me. It made me almost jump out of my own skin.

"You foolish woman! I've been working my ass off for this, for years!", he said, now throwing a vase of flowers to the floor. His long hair almost hiding all his face, that was red in anger.

"Hear me out...", I pleaded, but it was in vain as he then looked at me.

I could only see pure hatred there.

"GET OUT! GET OUT!", he screamed at me and as I didn't want to make anything worse, I started walking towards the exit.

I only stopped walking when I heard something heavy falling and the sound of glass shattering. I turned around to find Mr. Jackson in the floor with a bloody forehead. He had fainted.

I threw my bag and rushed to walk to him, he was unresponsive.

I dialed 911 and called out for help, only managing to get help after a few minutes when some bodyguards took him down to the lobby, where he would be taken in an ambulance.

My body started to shake as I sniffed, holding my tears. I was so scared; all of this had been so stressful and scary. With shaky hands, I quickly dialed the number I knew by heart. Georgie's.

But he wasn't answering, and I didn't know what to do.

I wanted to hide somewhere and just cry for hours. But I knew I had to be braver, be tougher and to explain myself about what had happened. Mr. Jackson might hate my guts, but I wasn't keen on giving him another reason for doing so. After all, he didn't know the true story, yet.

I took a cab to the hospital where I knew he was going to be taken and found his P.A waiting in the emergency room. Fortunately, he didn't saw me, so I sat quite away from him – waiting for answers.

I was thinking hard and heavy about how the President managed to get that information. I didn't say anything as I tried to separate my personal life and my work as parallel lines. I was starting to bite my nails, nervous.