Older || 18+

37. Ares

I walk into the office and Charles and Edward are already waiting for me in the conference room. Great. I had hoped to get settled in before having to deal with this, but it seems they're not willing to wait.

I take a seat across from them, my eyes meeting Charles's.

"Nice of you to join us, Ares," he says, his voice filled with annoyance.

I know they want the details. I know they want to know where the company's missing money went. But I'm not giving them more details than necessary. They act like they own this company, not me. They're only partners. I still own the majority share.

"I'm here," I say, leaning back in my chair.

"Good. We need to talk," Charles continues, his eyes narrowing.

"About what?" I ask, feigning ignorance.

"Don't play dumb, Ares. You know damn well what," Edward interjects, his tone harsh.

"I've already told you what you need to know," I reply, keeping my expression neutral.

"And we're not satisfied," Charles states, his gaze fixed on me.

I stare back at him, unblinking. "That's not my problem."

Edward leans forward, his hands clenched into fists. "It is your problem, Ares. It's your company. Your responsibility," he snaps.

"I have no obligation to share everything with you. We had a problem and I fixed it. End of story," I retort, my tone firm.

"And you refuse to tell us where the money went," Charles spits, his voice rising.

"Yes," I confirm, leaning back in my chair. "There are some things you don't need to know."

"Bullshit," Edward seethes, his knuckles white.

"Enough," I growl, standing up. "We have nothing more to talk about. If you have a problem with the way I run this company, then feel free to find another business to invest in."

I stalk out of the room, their shouts following after me. Storming into my office, I slam the door shut behind me, muffling their protests.

I collapse in my chair, frustration coursing through me. Dealing with those two is a pain in the ass. They've never liked how I run this company, always questioning my decisions.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. I need to focus on work. I have a lot to catch up on, and arguing with Charles and Edward is a waste of time.

I turn on my computer, letting the screen's glow wash over the dimly lit room. The inbox icon is already flashing with a relentless urgency, but I ignore it for a moment, leaning back in my chair.

The confrontation with Charles and Edward left a sour taste in my mouth. Partners or not, their incessant need for control grates on my nerves. This company was my vision, my sweat and blood. That they would dare to challenge my authority irks me more than I want to admit.

I finally click on the inbox, sifting through the emails. Each email represents a person, a project, or a problem that needs my attention, my decision. It's overwhelming but also invigorating. This company, despite the headaches it sometimes causes, is my life's work.

Halfway through the emails, a message from an unknown sender catches my eye. The subject line reads, "Opportunity." Usually, I'd dismiss it as spam, but something about it piques my curiosity. I open it.

The message is cryptic, offering a chance to invest in a groundbreaking project with potential for high returns. It's light on details, asking for a meeting to discuss further. My instinct tells me it's a risk, but then again, every business venture carries its share of risks. Maybe this is the opportunity I've been looking for to expand the company's horizons, to prove Charles and Edward wrong about my capabilities as a leader.