C9 BAD NEWS.

MILES:

The last business meeting ended in Waterloo, and I was forced to reschedule another. Although not pleasant to Grenada when she heard it, we didn't have much of a choice. Today, she had to come in and pump me with those tubes that made sure that I didn't crash along the line. My strength level has been low recently, and I couldn't even manage a proper ten minutes of walking without panting. Good health and heart are underrated, my friend.

We tried to keep the knowledge of my condition as minimal as possible. Only important people knew about it; Brandon, the head of my security team, Isabel, the head maid, my nutritionist, and of course, Grenada. My business partners and the press only knew that I was taking a break from work, nothing more. That was the key to success. Keep secrets and information at bay, or they'll use it against you later on. If they don't need to know, there's no need to tell.

Meanwhile, having free time has given me the opportunity to learn more about how annoying and incompetent humans are. One in particular. It marveled me that she has lasted for four days, going to the fifth without quitting. Her will was strong. I have tried every technique that usually made my workers resign in two days maximum. Yet, this one proved that she was stronger than I gave her credit for. Well, I have to switch tactics.

“Remember, take it slow today. Until you've fully recovered, you're not as strong as you used to be. Doing anything rash will harm your heart,” Grenada warned as she packed up her medical kit.

The woman nagged me more than a mother would nag their wayward child. Even with that, I couldn't do anything because she was right.

“Am I to take my medication after this?”

“No. But, make sure you take it later. The session would be over in the next thirty minutes, and you can disentangle the tubes. I'll be on my way then. Your assistant should be here any moment since you'll be needing her all day. Take it easy on the girl, Miles,” she pleaded.

I just rolled my eyes and turned my back to her as she left the room. Take it easy on someone I desperately wanted gone? As far as I have seen, she has only proven persistent, nothing else. Clumsy, irritating, and always on food. Those were her qualities. And, I don't see how they fit the job description.

Laying on the bed got me thinking, was it time to forgive and reunite with my mother? Or, was the too much intake of chemicals making me soft? If I had died, maybe I would've held guilt in my heart due to her. I still wasn't ready to let go of the pain and hurt. The reason I strived tirelessly to become successful. To have my revenge and to get in shape. The past was unbearable for me. Letting go of those horrible memories meant forgetting my identity. And, until I was done with my revenge, there was no letting go. Life gave me a second chance after all.

The relentless beeping of the machine cut through my attention. Carefully, I began to loosen the curled tubes one at a time. I wasn't used to the whole procedure, no matter how many times we did it. With the last one out of the way, I got out of bed and went for a shower. I had to be ready in less than an hour.

Done with shower, I dressed up. Through the phone, Brandon informed me that we were ready to move and that she was here. My clumsy assistant.

Making sure that I had everything I needed, I left for downstairs. Getting to the bottom of the stairs, I heard chattering and laughter from the kitchen. That was unlike my house. It was always quiet and moderate. Not loud and unproductive. Call it boring, it was my preference. The maids should be at work, meaning they would barely have time to lazy around and gossip. Yet, the flourishing laughter continued. They were happy about something.

Quietly, I creak open the door. I wasn't spying, it's called investigating. The source of change sat on the stool, happily talking about something, which caused the maids to keep laughing. She was making a joke and narrating a story. She was good at it.

Sitting relaxed in her pink gown that had ridden up due to her posture on the stool. Her fresh porcelain skin was exposed even though she was wearing nude-thigh-high sheer socks. She looked comfortable and at home. I couldn't care less. This wasn't a feeding center, and she was here to work. So were the rest of the maids. If they wanted to chatter, they could do it after work.

“What's going on here?” I questioned when I could no longer contain my anger. “Isabel, care to explain while everyone is doing nothing?”

“Sir, we were just having breakfast,” she responded, head now and hands linked in front of her dress as well as the other three maids.

That's more like it.

“And you?” I sneered, looking at her hand as she tried to grip the fork. Seeing that she has not even had a bite, “I'll give you five minutes to deal with that. Isabel, get busy,” I ordered before leaving.

Getting to the front door, Brandon was already waiting with the car door open. It was the early hours of the morning and outside was a bit chilly. “Good Morning, sir,” he greeted.

I gave him a curt nod and slid into the car. While there, I went through my emails and made sure I had my schedule set for the day. I didn't go out often and on days like this, I made sure to handle as much business as I could. I always looked forward to getting out of the house. I wasn't used to being stuck in a place doing nothing. I couldn't wait to get back to work.

Exactly five minutes, as I dropped my impatient stares from my wristwatch and I saw her rushing out. A smirk appeared at the corners of my mouth but disappeared immediately before she got to the car. She waved at the uninterested guards and reached for the door handle. She was always doing that. Trying to be friendly with everyone and anyone. Maybe that was what made her immune to my tough treatment. The fact that she was always in a good mood with gleaming eyes.

Outside the car, she straightened her dress and took steady breaths before getting in. She did it forgetting that the car was tinted from the outside not inside. I could see her entire action and read the uneasiness in her body language.

She was careful not to sit too close to me. Gluing herself to the car door. Good. She was learning her place now.

“Couldn't you have found something less colorful to wear? What's with the pink gown? We're going for a business meeting, not a fashion display. Neutral colors are best for official meetings,” I corrected. The cloth made her look like a joke. Like SpongeBob because it was a bit lose on her and the color was distracting. Please, don't tell me I will also have to become her stylist.

For a second, I read anger in her eyes. However, as quickly as it came, it was replaced with regret. “I didn't know that we had a dress code and color for the meeting. I'll pay close attention to my dressing details henceforth,” she muttered, not looking pleased.

Glancing again, her hair was tacky. “Can you do something about that? You look dissolved. More like a grocery keeper instead of my assistant,” I bit.

Jeez! Grenada, the least you could've done was to get me some hot chick that would refine my eyes each time I stared at her. Not this one who made food her best friend along with terrible clothing combination.

She ran her fingers through her hair, imitating a comb, and I almost threw up. With my irritation, she was nonchalant about the whole thing. “If it bothers you so much, sir, I can stay in the car and not be seen anywhere next to you. After all, I'm your assistant, not your secretary,” she mumbled the last bit so low that I almost didn't hear her.

“Assistant, meaning that you're by my side twenty-four-seven to solve my problems. Not add to it.” Turning my attention away from her, I gazed at Brandon, who sat in the driver's seat the entire time. “Brandon, we can go.”

As we began to roll out of my driveway, my phone buzzed. Reaching for it, I opened my email, and it was a message that I have been waiting for. As we began to roll out of my driveway, my phone buzzed. Reaching for it, I opened my email, and it was the email I have been waiting for. Unfortunately, it came with a negative response, not the positive answer I have been waiting for. An email that redirected my course of action.