Treating Mr. Billionaire

~ 60 ~

The air conditioner hummed as it ran its endless cycle, the fan rotating and whipping up the cool morning breeze that wafted through the office in a gusty swirl of undisturbed air and condensation.

The room was quiet, as most days were; with no one to disturb his peace, Helbert Stanley stood loftily before a broad window that offered an unparalleled view of the city below him, overlooking the bustling downtown area from his perch on top of the highest skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan.

He stared down at it with his usual impassive expression, his hands clasped behind his back in perfect posture, as he gazed out upon the hustling crowds walking around beneath him, all of them oblivious to the man who stood watching from high above them all.

But today, the frown resting heavily across his face was more daunting than ever. He was flat-out angry. And it wasn't about the usual petty annoyances of employees slacking off, or those low, meaningless competitors that think they could ever beat him from where he ruled in the highest power in the world of business.

His mood that morning had been aggressively taunted by something more personal, and it could be traced to the one who would one day take over everything he had accomplished in life.

The swift knock on the door broke his concentration, letting him know that the person he had summoned had arrived.

"Come in," his gruff command sounded without inflection, still not turning around from his vantage point.

The heavy door swung open slowly, the handle squeaking slightly under the strain, followed by soft footsteps hitting the carpet as they moved nearer.

"Walk smartly," Helbert corrected with obvious irritation, his gaze never shifting from the panoramic view before him.

The footsteps stopped abruptly as his words registered, only to resume with more vigor until they halted right before the large desk that stood behind Helbert. "Father," a young voice called respectfully, with a slight hint of dread behind it. "You sent for me."

"Why would I not?" Helbert snapped impatiently, finally looking away from the windows to survey the boy standing timidly in front of him.

Having an excellent guess as to why his father had called for him, Jayden found himself sinking his head low, feeling the weight of his father's disapproving stare bore deeply into his skull.

"Look up when I'm talking to you." The older man demanded, his tone seething. "Come here," he added once the younger male had straightened his spine again, and his blue eyes found their way back to the scene below.

With heavy feet, he moved closer to where his father stood, his fingers unconsciously fiddling with the hem of the navy blue jacket of his school uniform.

Helbert started with a deep breath, then let it out with deliberate precision, before speaking again. "The school's annual sports competition is over. Am I correct?"

"Yes, father."

"You participated in the table tennis match, representing the Blue team. Am I wrong?"

"No, father."

"And the gold medal was won by which team?"

A couple of seconds ticked before the question could be answered. "Red team."

He saw the way his father swallowed another breath of self-restraint. "Who represented the Red team?" he then asked with a dangerously calm voice.

Jayden turned quiet. Every second had him wishing he was never born.

"Who was awarded the gold medal, Jayden?" Helbert repeated, his tone slightly raised as his son's hesitancy irked him. He already knew the disappointing answer to his query but his son admitting to his failure was what he needed.