By half past twelve, Damir arrived at the restaurant where the meeting was scheduled. He walked inside and asked the host where Mr. Alexander was seated. The host politely led him to the table. Alexander turned out to be a man in his mid-fifties, tall and lean, with sharp facial features and a cold, steely gaze of icy blue eyes.
“Good afternoon,” Damir greeted him and sat down.
“I’m listening, young man,” Alexander replied, his voice tight and oddly restrained. Damir cleared his throat, unsure of where to begin.
“Just the essentials, briefly,” the man offered, helping him gather his thoughts.
“I suspect my stepbrother of setting me up,” Damir began, “but I have no idea how to prove it to my father. I need someone who can dig into this.”
Just then, a waiter arrived and began placing dishes on the table.
“I took the liberty of ordering for you before you arrived. I hope you’ll enjoy it,” Alexander said, gesturing to the food.
Damir glanced at the plate in front of him, then at him. He hadn’t eaten properly since that day in his father’s office—his appetite had vanished completely. But right now, food was the last thing on his mind.
“As for your case,” Alexander started in a monotonous tone, sipping soup between words, “I believe it can be resolved.” Then, turning the subject back to the food, he insisted, “Your brain works better on a full stomach, young man. Don’t be stubborn.”
Damir sighed and picked up his fork.
“Give me until tomorrow,” Alexander continued. “I need to talk to a few people, and then I’ll tell you the next steps.”
“I brought copies of the contracts with me,” Damir said, nodding at the briefcase resting on the chair beside him.
“That’s for later, Mr. Damir. First, we need to arrange for the right people to handle your situation. You’ll give them everything they ask for.”
Damir nodded, exhaling with slight relief. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. He was barely home these days. His pregnant wife had become a shadow of herself, just like his mother. He didn’t want to burden them with his turmoil, and he didn’t have the strength to pretend everything was fine. So every morning, he’d leave as if he had errands, and return only in the evening.
At their next meeting, Diana told him his office had been locked, and staff were told he was on a leave of absence until further notice. But she also said no one at the company actually believed he was involved in any shady dealings.
That made him smile. At least something good. In the six months he’d worked alongside his father, he had built good relationships with many of the staff, even the field workers he’d visited frequently with clients or his father to show the operations and discuss product quality. He had really done his job with integrity. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a long sigh.
“You look absolutely exhausted,” Diana said, giving him a sympathetic look.
“I know. I barely sleep.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
He looked at her, eyes heavy with fatigue.
“What else could you possibly do?”
“I’m willing to do anything,” she said softly.
His eyebrows arched slightly in surprise. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and murmured, “Thanks. But unless you’ve got a magic wand, I don’t think you can help.”
“What if I did?”
He looked at her again. Her persistence was becoming almost puzzling. But he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze it.
