The briefing from Alafin Oil Empire informed me that in one week I should be expecting my profit share and complete return on investment. But barely three weeks had passed and nothing had come from them.
On a bizarre morning at the office I turned up at the office only to get an instant knock on the door.
“Boss, Boss!” that was the teary voice of Zion, who just barged into my office, sweating as Christmas goat. He went on his knees, and brought his hands on his hand.
Anxiety banged my heart, “What is it, Zion? What happened to you?” I queried, and advanced to him.
From the fallen gaze on his face, this young cousin of mine had been all tears. When I stared at his trembling hands, I saw a news paper which was inscribed; ALAFIN CRASH.
“Talk to me. What happened, Zion?” I pressurized him.
And finally he managed to reply through tears, “Just yesterday, the Alafin ship conveying the barrels of oil of all the investors was invaded by pirates and it crashed and exploded. No staff of Alafin survived, not even the CEO, George Alafin could make it, and also the barrels of oil were lost…”
“What do you mean?” I snatched the newspaper from him and started reading haphazardly. My hands were beginning to shake at the time and I needed the ground to open so I could fall in.
“My money! My money! No! No! Tell me is not true! Zion!” I wailed and quickly turned on the TV to confirm the news. “Oh my God! Oh my God! My net worth! Where is my money!” I clenched Zion on the collar and demanded for my money.
But that was it. I was back to my last toes. With just one hundred thousand dollars left in my account I was ready to pack my bags and go home as a pauper.
What a decline from five hudred trillion dollars to one hundred thousand dollars!
I couldn’t pay staffers’ salary anymore, and my tax was piling up as cow dung. The storm just opened on me. I didn’t know how news of my decline in net worth got viral and the entire world discussed it while many gossiped, and mocked it and expected to see me back on the street as a delivery boy soon.
Recently I started noticing the challenges that accompanied wealth. It was a thing to be the world richest man and it was another thing to remain at the top. My father was the world richest man and he handed the baton over to me.
A decline in my wealth was a sin and would never happen. To remain at the top, I needed to reclaim my net worth, buy an oil well so that I would never be out of stock and disappoint my clients anymore.
I really needed an oil well and I doubted if Mr. President would sell the national oil well to me since he was about accessing a loan from a broke ass like me. Which money would I give to him? He wanted fifty trillion dollars and I was only having one hundred thousand dollars on me.
Poverty was already creeping in as soldier ants. The media homes were proliferating from my downfall and writing vanity stories to inform the public about the fall of Mike Don, the world richest man from something to nothing.
My wife, Clare Roham had wept day and night and prayed that this storm be over.
Over the weekend I got a strange phone call and it was from my father, Saint Don.
“We need to see, my heir,” he had told me over the phone and I could swear there was uncertainty in his voice.
When I told Zion to prepare my convoy, he later returned with a response, “Um boss. I just want you to know there is heavy traffic at the municipal road, and it is a route we must ply to your father’s mansion…”
I interrupted him, “Please drop the cars. Is my private jet in order? Get the pilot ready. We will go on a private jet. I must not miss this moment with my father,” I sounded through sucked voice which I had lost to tears.
Zion bowed and left.
I turned my gaze to my picture on the wall ; the one I had as Brian Patrick and I groaned , “No more poverty. I must remain the world richest man. I must reclaim my net worth.
Something special was about to happen to me.
We had a quiet flight down to my father’s mansion and all through the brief flight; I never uttered a word to Zion. This was unusual. I could see him steal a glance at me with the corner of his eyes.
“Boss, I wish we could survive this storm,” I just noticed he had been reading a newspaper, “Look at the headline.. Customers are beginning to complain over shortage of crude supply from our group,” he intoned at a breath and pointed my attention to the bold headline with my image beneath.
I sighed and wouldn’t want the momentary troubles of the Saint Don to steal my appetite of dining with my father. My silence gave him a reply.
He continued in a more demanding tone now, “But boss come to think of it, is there no way out for us. I thought we had some barrels but when I visited the barrels yesterday , I was welcomed by its emptiness. This is a huge challenge to us…” he nagged after a deep quarrelsome hiss concluded his voice.
I swallowed hard, dumbfounded and fondled with my fingers, “I got this figured out okay. I know we are out of stock, but we are not out of place. For now any client that phones you for a supply, keep him posted and book him for supply.” My hope spoke.
“But boss we are out of stock and business. “ He protested and left his mouth gaping when I interrupted him.
“Zion, it is a storm and we must overcome it and bounce back. That is the reason I am going to see my father,”
Already he had settled his gaze on the newspaper which obviously had rapture his attention from me. While he read I could see his brow build as the ripples in water.
“Boss! Boss!” he clamored, left his seat for mine. He placed the newspaper on my thighs, “They seem to be another world richest man. In fact he has been boasting to snatch the title from you. Forbes have interviewed him and confirmed his net worth to be to the tune of four hundred trillion dollars…”
I fumed, “Can you just keep shut and let me read.” My brimstone-filled face cautioned him and he quietened. I snatched the paper from him.
The young man was a year older and the CEO of a jewelry company by name TJ Jewels. His name was Thomas Jackson from the Caribbean. Indeed he mentioned me in his interview with Forbes and promised he was already the world richest man since I had only hundred thousand dollars on me now.
“Abomination!” I beamed in my thought.
I hummed and my fury subsided to groaning, “We will see to that.” It was a promise and not a threat.
When my private jet booed into the island of Saint Don’s mansion, I could see father amidst his well-suited security and servants, outside the mansion, waving up at me.
“Feels good to be home,” I whispered and wished I could just manage at least a smirk on this thunderous face of mine which boiled in the heat of my crippling business and now the headache from Thomas Jackson.
Standing on the staircase of my private jet , my eyes locked with father’s eyes and we shared a huge contagious smile.
Although this was my home, yet everywhere seemed strange. Ever since I got missing as a child I hadn’t appreciated much of this mansion, even now I was the true hair; business had pulled me away.
Father welcomed me with a warm banquet dinner which featured just the both of us and variety of sumptuous staple and wine.
Although he had often phoned, demanding for a warm dinner with me , yet I had come to realize the urgency surrounding this very visit.
Between our meals and discussion, I noticed the same news paper Zion was reading , was on the side of father, obviously he might have read about Thomas Jackson and my curiosity just pulled on me.
“Son, I just want to appreciate you for the hard work, and dedication you have invested in the Saint Don Group,” he sounded after clearing his clogged throat.
Recently my heart often thudded with failure and ruin whenever Saint Don Group was being mentioned. I had already come to tell father I would be packing up my bags and discharging my staff, so I could create other business ventures and grow in it.
Maybe oil and gas wasn’t my cookies. Yes, perhaps I wasn’t meant for this business.
I forced a smile and wondered if father noticed I had lost my appetite, “My pleasure father.” I sucked a deep breath.
“Indeed you have shown hard work is the key to success. You met Saint Don Group with a net worth of thirty trillion dollars and increased it to five hundred trillion dollars.” He gave an introductory statement
My heart thudded even harder; I struggled to believe father hadn’t known about the lost of my net worth and in the Alafin crash.
While I was swallowed in thought, Zion pranced to my side with a phone, “Boss, Forbes want to confirm if your net worth is still at five hundred trillion dollars because Thomas Jackson wants to take over as the world richest man…”
I raised a thunderous brow at him and father shot an uncertain stare at me as well…
Something was about to happen…