At the time a hush of silence hung over us. I could see the balls of sweat that stood on his face. His hands that lay on the desk were trembling so hugely that they almost tapped on the desk. He kept staring at me through gaping and tension.
“You?” he pointed at me, cast a striking glance at the photo and returned his gaze on me once again to compare the resemblance. He was still full of doubt as he queried and bickered me with his thunderous looks, and his ocean blue eyes rolling at me. “It can’t be true. You can’t be Brian Patrick!” he snarled and almost quarreled with me when he said, “Are you bluffing or what, uh? Do you take me for a kid?”
I stood up, “I am Brian Patrick, Morgan Harris, same Brian Patrick you used to know. This is the poor, ragged nobody who worked and served you as a delivery boy. I am Brian Patrick in flesh and blood…”
He interposed me, “It can’t be true! The Brian Patrick that served me was a criminal, a nobody, a poor ragged bastard whose parents barely had water to drink let alone food. How dare you come up to me with impersonation? He waved at me, “Come on, Mike Don, stop bluffing and stop this prank!” he relaxed in his chair and swung around in absolute boldness. “When you are done bluffing you tell me who Brian Patrick is to you..”
“Morgan Harris Balderas!” I called his full name, “You are Mexican by birth and American by citizenship. You were once the richest man on Rio Hondo before Fanny Luis became richer than you. Your wife, Lisha Balderas has five children are in Mexico after the divorce which almost cost you your entire inheritance. You never called me by my name instead you preferred calling me delivery poor pig…”
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” he snapped, interrupted me and had his hand on his head as I told him all about himself and how much I knew about him. When he opened his eyes they were welled up with warm tears that trickled expressly , “Indeed you are Brian Patrick!” his lips trembled within his jaw as he couldn’t stop staring at the photo on the wall and my glistening , sweet mature chubby looks which I earned from proper nutrition and work out.
Morgan Harris’s hands were shaking so much now as one suffering from Parkinson’s disease. The sweat on his face had initiated a more profuse sweat on his neck and it was so much that one could think he just fell into the pool.
I stood up, advanced to the wine shelf poured strong wine for two, walked up to him, all smiles and handed him one and once he took it, I added, “Welcome to the world of Mike Don, Morgan Harris . I was Brian Patrick , but today I am Mike Don .” I raised my mug of wine and clicked against his, “Cheers to success, to the rising of a delivery poor boy from rags to riches, to the awareness of my true identity…”
His brow chiseled at me as he interrupted, “True identity? What true identity do you speak of? All the while you served me everyone had known you as the poor delivery boy , who barely looked good. So what identity do you speak of, Brian Patrick?”
I had my back to him as I sipped my wine to foster the urge to speak further without letting him know how much my wrath boiled for him.
I dared to speak but I couldn’t. My lips stuttered with words and I held back, gave him the cold shoulders and still had my back to him.
“Talk to me Brian Patrick! What true identity do you speak of, uh?” Morgan hounded me with questions when I wouldn’t want to speak up. “Are you trying to tell me all the while you served me a s a delivery boy you were the true heir to a consortium or what, uh?”
I swirled around and shot my furious frown at him and he kept shut , “I never knew who I was. I thought I was a bastard, a ragged piece of shit. A nobody without a name. I thought I was a cast away. My foster father made matters worse by reminding me of being a bastard …”I stuttered and those tears trickled expressly before I shut my eyes.
Morgan was restless yet anxious. He steadied his gaze on me and paid rapt attention.
“I never knew I was the true heir to the Saint Don Group…”
Morgan’s gaze widened at me as he gaped in uncertainty. The sweating on his face ha started raining. He swallowed hard, breathed uneasily, and sounded in fear, “Saint Don Group? Are you kidding me or what? How possible is that? Do you know what is Saint Don Group? That is the richest oil and gas conglomerate in the world. You must be bluffing.”
I barked at him as his unbelief added to my hatred of him, “Keep shut, Morgan Harris. Why are you arguing with me uh? I queried him.
And he gave a firm nod before adding , “Because you mentioned the Saint Don Group…” his lips trembled as he spoke . Obviously it was all revealed in his eyes as he expected nothing less than bitter revenge from me.
I beamed in an emphatic tone, “My true father is Saint Don, the same Saint Don the entire world knows. I went missing after I survived a fatal car accident which took the life of my mother. It was during such dilemma that I found myself in abject poverty…”
Morgan snapped and clapped in pretentious excitement, “I said it. I used to notice some trait of wealth in you. I knew you were a Croesus. I knew there was something spectacular about Brian Patrick…” he let a dirty pretentious laugh.
I interrupted him, “Yet you accused me of siphoning fifteen billion dollars and sent me to fifteen years imprisonment, uh, Morgan Harris?”