"This doesn't look right,"
Richard thought to himself, the bright blue desktop screen reflecting on his face.
His under-eye bags were heavy—both from exhaustion and the journey of life, as he was a little over forty.
"How could this be?" He leaned closer, adjusting his computer glasses, ensuring he did not see wrongly.
"An embezzlement?!" he gasped, leaning back in his chair in exasperation.
"Who would be stupid enough to do this… it's so crude…" His thoughts raced as he tried to figure out who was behind it and why they would attempt to steal from the World Bank.
"Well, they're either bold or stupid; whichever it is, they've got guts!"
He leaned in again, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he traced the source of the embezzlement.
As an analyst in his field for the past ten years, he easily tracked the transactions.
"A misdirection of funds?" he remarked, smiling to himself. "Smart move, but unfortunately, I'm smarter."
He continued typing, unwilling to give up until he uncovered the source of the corruption.
The World Bank was created to help improve impoverished countries, with funds in the trillions—yet an individual or a group had tried to dip their hands into the honeycomb.
He wasn't going to allow that.
He typed away all night, downing coffee after coffee, until he finally reached his goal.
"Gotcha…" He slumped into his chair, a grin plastered on his exhausted face.
"I'll have to ask for a raise for this," he muttered, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction.
A prideful smirk played on his lips as he drifted into slumber.
"Hey Richie, wake up!"
He felt a tug at his shoulders, interrupting his short nap.
"I am up…" He lifted his body suddenly, jumping, scared by his colleague's casual contact.
"Man! You almost gave me a heart attack…"
His colleague held his chest, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
"Hurry and get ready, it's almost time…" he added, his brows furrowed in annoyance at his colleague's attempt at his life.
Richard, still half-asleep, drowsily rose to his feet, dragging himself to the gym showers.
With his slow and seemingly deliberate steps, one could tell this wasn't the first time he had used the gym showers.
He had worked overtime again and again but never complained, as the pay was always worth it.
"This guy, he should get married and go home more often," his colleague mumbled unconsciously, shifting his eyes to Richard's desktop, his face ashen as he noticed what Richard was up to.
On the screen was a report titled:
Misdirection of Funds: Discrepancies in Disbursement to Targeted Beneficiaries
He scanned through it, recognizing most of the groups.
"Sh*t, this guy is too good for his own good," he growled, taking a seat at Richard's desk.
Suspiciously, he looked around the office floor—no one had reported yet.
Quickly but meticulously, he took a flash drive and copied the report onto it.
Done, he hurriedly left the office space, taking out his phone as he speed-dialed a number.
"Madam, we have a problem…"
A few hours later
The orange brilliance of the sun bathed the majestic building of the World Bank, its luminance making the building sparkle like a large diamond.
Richard hummed a tune to himself as he walked down the hallway, the orange radiance bathing him in its warm embrace.
The fatigue of the night before was almost unnoticeable on his cheerful face.
"Time for a raise; I might finally settle down, or maybe not," he laughed to himself, believing the idea of marriage was a joke.
He was a happy bachelor, free from all the responsibilities yet getting all the perks.
Knock! Knock!
He gently knocked at the INT vice president's door.
"Come in." A hoarse but gentle voice sounded from behind the door.
Given the go-ahead, he gently opened the door, a sense of foreboding washing over him as his hair stood on end, goosebumps rising on his back.
"Huh!" he exclaimed internally, wondering what that was—but unfortunately, he didn't have time to ponder, already stepping into the vice president's office.
"Luke?" he wondered, noticing Luke, the colleague who had woken him up earlier, standing in the corner, his head lowered.
A strong yet serene smell of peach wafted into his nose, his gaze wandering to the source—a beautiful woman sitting with her back facing him.
She sat with the elegance of a noble, her blonde hair like strands of gold, glittering in the orange luminance of the morning sun.
"Charlotte?!" he exclaimed, wondering what the daughter of the President of the World Bank was doing there.
Though curious, he shifted his gaze; whatever it was, it wasn't his problem.
Or was it?
"Sir, I…" He shifted his gaze to the documents in his hand, and that's when something clicked.
A thought too bold to even exist, yet the current situation could only birth it.
"No… it can't be. Right?!" He shook his head, unwilling to believe that.
He then turned his gaze to the person he came to talk to, his heart sinking upon noticing his expression—cold and emotionless, unlike the usual cheerful demeanor he always wore.
"Hahaha… Well, it's a given, and here I thought I could get a raise…"
He chuckled to himself, his expression turning cold.
"I'm not getting out of this. No need to put on a drama," he thought to himself, unwilling to bend no matter what they had planned for him.
All the pieces fell into place—he was framed, even before he got here.
He side-glanced at Luke, the only person who could have gotten wind of the embezzlement, and at Charlotte, who was clearly part of it—if not the mastermind.
"Let's get this over with…" he stepped forward.
"Vice President, I have something to show you." He gave the documents to the vice president of the INT, his expression unreadable.
At this moment, he had lost his cheerful demeanor; even the fear of the inevitable was not present.
He was unwilling to allow an ounce of emotion to show—no weakness.
"You are a funny guy," the vice president commented after browsing through the documents, throwing the papers at Richard's face.
He stood there, unblinking, not even a flinch—indignant.
For a brief second, the vice president was shaken, but considering his position, he quickly regained his composure.
"This guy thinks he's smart. He knows he's been caught, so he's trying to intimidate me," he believed—or was at least told—that Richard had stolen from the World Bank, and to avoid suspicion, decided to bring it to the board—the crying thief tactic.
"You think we are a joke, huh!!!" he roared.
"How can someone of your caliber try to dip your hand in the world's fund?" He paused, gazing at the papers on the ground. "And you think you could pass it off as embezzlement… Who else can access the funds if not you…"
The vice president continued to reprimand Richard. The middle-aged man remained quiet, his head held up, his gaze unwavering, staring into the eyes of his superior.
He didn't utter a single word to defend himself while the vice president continued to bark, clearly trying to impress Charlotte, who sat amongst them—unaware he was just a tool.
Charlotte's curiosity at Richard's reaction turned to both men, the show not playing out as she expected.
Richard, who should have been begging, was quiet—his gaze unwavering, indifferent to the vice president's insults.
"Huh!..." her eyebrows raised, slowly falling into a frown.
"This lowly trash…" She stood up, enraged and seemingly insulted by Richard's calm demeanor.
"He isn't even begging." She walked to him, and before the vice president could even ask why she was up…
Slap!!
A loud and crisp sound reverberated through the room, the vice president's pupils dilating in shock, Richard's façade collapsing as a look of shock embraced his features.
"She dares slap me…" he thought, his pupils dilating as they reflected Charlotte's figure.
A youth in her early twenties slapping a man who could be her father.
Why?!
Just because he wasn't begging.
Just because he wasn't moving according to the script she had so ingeniously concocted.
"Miss Charlotte, it's okay…" The vice president separated the two.
A bit confused about her reaction, which seemed overkill.
Sure, she was the daughter of the President—that wasn't enough to slap.
The vice president paused in his thought, glancing at Charlotte's enraged face.
"Sigh…" he shook his head, understanding that this spoilt girl was the true culprit.
Charlotte, unaware of the vice president's deduction, continued to glare at Richard as if the man had committed the gravest of crimes.
Well, being weak has always been a crime—whether in wealth or raw strength.
"Luke, we will sue you for everything you have, and no firm will hire you for your crimes of stealing from the World Bank…" The vice president announced, the annoyance in his tone replaced by resignation.
He now knew the truth but still couldn't do anything about it—the global scandal this would cause was more than worth losing an employee, no matter how long he had served.
Richard turned to the vice president, his hand on his cheek, his gaze unfocused as his ears rang, his mind confused as to why she would slap him.
He had never been slapped—not in all forty-three years of his life.
He was prepared to lose, but not to this degree—a slap.
Still dazed from the slap, security guided him out of the room.
Before he knew it, he stood in court, the judge's gavel pounding out his fate.
"…You are hereby sentenced to ten years' imprisonment, with no parole."
His case rushed.
Hidden from the public.
The bars closed on him, his lifeless pupils looking beyond the bars.
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Welcome, Don't forget to leave a footprint on the first chapter. ♡
You know what I mean. (• ﹏ < )