Door Of The Conference

Door Of The Conference
Michaela’s POV…

We hadn’t officially met or had been introduced before now, but it felt like I’d known him for ages. The very first memory of him was the lion in the spirit, the one that attacked Cherilyn and I, sending an assassin to kill us on the street. He’d just been floating in the background of this story this entire time. It sometimes would feel like he wasn’t even real.

Not today though. He was as real as the sun, and he was in my company, with my board, waiting to discuss God knows what with me. This was the entire reason for Zara’s fiery appearance. He was the link between us and her, the reason why Cherilyn is going to meet up with her on Thursday. Every problem we had as a throuple was tied to him, and now he had brought those problems to my Palace.

It was obvious he wasn’t here for good reasons. The meeting started. My board was on hand to explain what the situation was, and just as I suspected, it had to do with the China Expansion Project. Oh, the details will bore you, dear readers, so I won’t burden you with them.

Let me speed it along for you, so I can be done here and get back to the girls. We still had that conference to attend, and I didn’t like being in this cage with the lion, even though his mouth had been shut by the Lord. Basically, several dealings with the Chinese had to take place soon, before the unveiling… and as partners, it was the Palace’s turn to settle accounts. The lawyer was here to bleed my company dry, all with the guise of balancing books.

He’s lucky I’m in a good mood. I couldn’t deal violently with this man on my own terms. If Malcolm wants us to stay away from Zara, then you best believe he certainly wants us as far away as possible from James Worthington as well. I simply agreed to give them what the sum they wanted. They prepared the document to sign and I put my signature on it.

There were some dissatisfied grunts from amongst my board. And my biggest investors weren’t happy with the amount of cash they were risking over the burning stove. We had to do it regardless of how they felt about it, and they knew it too.

The decision was an easy one to make. I was in this thing with Malcolm, all the way to the end. And I could even stake my father’s legacy that it would pay off. Against all the odds, it will.

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Cherilyn’s POV…

I was able to share some details with Kendra. She found some of them hard to grasp or believe, but she surely had an open mind. Julie even got us some yogurt, and that just made the conversation all the more enjoyable. From the spiritual walks, to the astral projection, to the bodily possession—every detail was neatly sewed into how I fabricated my narration of events. At the end of my monologue, it was obvious that Kendra was a little spooked. 

“I mean, I know the supernatural exists, but I had no idea it was anything like that. After what happened with Malcolm, I’ve been seriously looking into it, trying to find out the Truth, but I never got as far as what you’ve told me you’ve experienced. It’s quite extraordinary.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “It is…”

She sighed too. “I want that. That kind of assurance. That kind of clarity. It would surely serve me a lot of good.”

“Perhaps you’ll find what you need at this conference,” I said optimistically, and she nodded in agreement.

“Yeah! Perhaps.”

Julie suddenly burst back onto the balcony. “Hi there again. So, um… The madam has finished her meetings and is ready to leave. She’s asked me to come get you both. May we head back in?”

We put our cups down and went back inside. After we reached Michaela by the elevator, her face looked a little flustered, so I inquired about it. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just eager to get to this conference. It’ll surely be more eventful than the past few hours I just spent here at the Palace. Come on, let’s go,” she replied.

We were swiftly on the move. We got out of the company and found our way into the car. About twelve minutes later, we were at our destination, with fifteen minutes to spare before the conference was scheduled to commence. We entered the building, and at the door, we were given name tags and markers to fill them with. There was a sign-in spot just ahead, and we could already hear the audio guys testing the microphones further ahead.

The wind blew softer. There was a whisper within it. ‘Come inside, my child…’ 

That’s what it sounded like. I heard it, and was eager to hear the rest once we got in.

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Malcolm’s POV…

“We’re a business. We have means of raising funds for massive projects, and no project has ever been more massive in our company’s history than this one. We take risks as well. We sometimes invest all we have, and if things were to go sideways, we risk bankruptcy. Between the banks, our overseas partners, and our rainy day funding accounts, we’re covered from actually going under, but still susceptible to suffering serious loss of capital and revenue…”

The other reporters immediately shook their heads at my last remarks, refusing to accept that my claims were true. Graham was on hand to throw another accusation my way. 

“The land you’ve occupied in China, plus the laws of their business codes that have been adjusted to favour this project are clear signs that a ridiculous amount of money has been exchanged, otherwise they would have never given you such freedom so quickly. There’s no way Balogun Incorporated can extensively cover the fees upfront. Which means deals have been made. The type of ones that are struck when the rest of the world isn’t looking.”

I was tired of their constant diggings at this point. I decided to give them the scoop they asked for, knowing fully well that it wouldn’t be what they wanted, nor would they want to believe it. Their recorders were surely on, so I spoke plainly and clearly.

“We were able to pay because we’ve opted out of claiming any remuneration funds for the first decade after the China branch is launched. That’s why the Chinese accepted our bid and gave us the rights we needed to operate.”

Zara was first to call it. “Bullshit!”

“No, Miss Zara. Bullshit is what’s about to pour down on you three if you don’t move,”

Before any of them could heed my warning, one of the forklifts carrying the ground residue tilted over, and a slobbery heap of wet sticky earth came barreling down, right on all three of them. 

The plan was to embarrass them, and it had gone exactly the way it was scripted. Better than I had hoped for.