"Look, Mr. D," I tell him, trying to convince him that my proposal is about myself. "My father had high expectations from me. He's been a businessman all his life, and he left a legacy that he expects will thrive under my care."
I hold my breath, praying he won't be difficult to deal with. I just had a hard time convincing him to get into discussion again.
"Mr. D, has it ever occurred to you that you can lead a company of your own with that talent of yours? All you need is money, and I have that. You can't be an employer forever – you're wasting your time to become the country's next most outstanding business magnate. Look, Mr. Kim Mori is the one getting wealthier and wealthier because of your talent."
Mr. D looks up, and his expression has softened. My heart immediately wells up, thinking of my soon victory.
"Are you going to just pay or buy my rights? You're into business, and you know it's not wise. Money disappears even before you know it." He keeps tapping his pen on the desk, irritating me with his lack of interest.
"So, what do you want?" I hold my breath again.
"As you said, Mr. Mori is the one getting wealthier because of my creations. But your offer is just the same. You're only buying my talent."
"You want shares?"
"Not only that. I want the biggest share."
I gasp, leaving my mouth open. I can't believe he's that greedy. That's maybe why Mr. Kim never gives him a chance to become one of the shareholders of Kim Yuan Microelectronics. I'm not so sure, but that is what I heard.
I draw a deep sigh, my mind wandering on how else I can convince him to just sell his rights. His demand is just too high. And he can't possibly have more than what James and my father had worked hard for me.
"I told you. You can't afford my condition."
He rises to his feet and takes enormous strides toward the door, slamming it close behind him. I no longer call him out because James has to know about his condition. Yet, I have no idea how to bring this up to him. Even correspondence is censored in jail, so it's neither a choice. Suddenly, an idea springs up in my mind. I fish out my phone from my bag, then press her number.
"You've finally realized you need me now," Maezy says, smirking. She arrived at a coffee shop near my condo unit, thirty minutes after calling her.
I sigh, loathing at the proud expression on her face. She hasn't done me any wrong, but why do I feel like slapping her every time I see her?
"Coffee?" I ask, sliding towards her the menu catalog.
"Anything with hazelnut." She shrugs her shoulders, sliding the black catalog back to me.
"Alright."
I call the attendant, and the latter scribbles down my order. When she leaves, I turn to Maezy who is now sitting across from me.
"Thanks for coming. I have something to tell James, but I don't know how to reach him."
"You want me to relay it to him?"
"Not exactly, but maybe you know of some ways to talk to him directly?"
She holds my gaze for a long while, perhaps thinking if I can be trusted or not.
"Every Thursday, the prison guard on duty allows him to use the phone."
My eyes grow wide at this revelation. There's only one reason for that, which means James has bought his loyalty.
"But how about the security cameras?"
She scoffs, tilting her head sideways. "If there's a will, there's a way."
I feel horrified at what she says. Any mistake can happen, and if ever it happens, it affects James' chance for parole. I rub the sides of my shoulders to ease the goosebumps on my skin, giving Maezy an empty stare.
"Don't worry, dear. James won't be caught easily."
"But what if the guard makes a mistake? He will be dragging James with him."
Maezy suddenly giggles, making the tiny hair on my skin stand on its end. The sound of her laughter is too shrill, irritating my ears. It's not because she's amused at me, but because she finds me ridiculous.
"You're too naïve; you know that? James is too clever for anyone to trample upon."
I furrow my brows. "What do you mean, Miss Maezy? I really don't know what James is capable of."
"James had his men lock up the real jail warden and one of the guards."
"You mean, the jail guards and the warden are new? And they are James' men?"
"Yes and no."
I pull my brows closer, confused at what Maezy says. Perhaps, she has read my mind because she smirks at me.
"No, because the guards aren't all new. And yes, they are James' men who look like the employed guards."
The more I pull my face into a frown as I try to ingest her words. The guards are James' men who look like the employed guards.
Then, it dawns on me. These guards undergo plastic surgery, copying the looks of the real and original employed guards. But how? Plastic surgeries enhance someone's looks only, and copying someone's face is a fallacy. However, this is likely possible in identical twins. It is either luck or James' wickedness that makes these people consent to the act. But how do these people get through the strict security screening imposed within the jail facility?
My knees suddenly tremble at the thought that these guards might allow James to escape. And the person who will be the most unfortunate is Zed!
Before I got over my shock, the attendant comes to our table, bringing the items I ordered. I slowly push the cup of coffee towards Maezy before I pick up my yogurt drink.
"We can meet on Thursday."
I nod while taking a sip from the straw in my cup. My thoughts run wild, creating horrible scenarios. I'm so bothered that I have underestimated James, not minding the fact that he's probably working with the most notorious group in the world.
"You look like someone who needs to recover from the shock. So, I must go and leave you to your thoughts."
I nod and smile despite my messy thoughts. "See you on Thursday, Miss Maezy. And thanks again for coming."
I no longer watch her leave. I get back into my thoughts, picturing more scenarios about James' escape and how he'll take revenge against Zed. But what scares me the most are the scenes where I imagine Zed lying in his own pool of blood.
"Miss Sahara?" I snap out of my thoughts when I hear the voice. I look up and see a sturdy man standing before me.
“Who are y-you?” I stammer.
"Mr. James Mori has sent me to see you."
I feel an abrupt stop in my heartbeat. And before I can open my heart to speak, the man hands out a phone. I stare at the man in front of me, getting hesitant to pick up the phone from him.
He pressed an icon on the screen, and then a static sound floated from the background. Then, before I get to understand the man's motive, a familiar voice speaks through the phone.
"Love, how are you? Can we talk?"