Chapter 7:
Ryan Evans gazed outside the window of his father's study. The air was crisp and light. Rich scent of coffee beans lingered in the study. He had been avoiding the Evans mansion ever since his return. There was nothing here for him.
Pulling his eyes away from the dead tree outside the mansion, he studied the well kept study.
He hated the study. The revelation that had occurred here was bitter and he had no desire to step back into this room unless necessary.
But today it was different.
His father had called him here.
He rubbed his temple. His vision was not improving and he had been experiencing awful headaches for the past few days. It was almost a constant in his daily life – to wake up with the similar probing sensation behind his eyes.
The door of the study swung opened and an elderly man entered. His aged face lined with temporary cheerfulness. "Glad you can make it my boy! It's great to see you again."
Unaffected by his father's affection, he answered, "Anything for you father."
His father nodded as he rested himself on the armchair. "Take a seat," his father said.
"I'm fine standing," Ryan replied, shifting his attention to the knotted branches outside the window. It was eerily beautiful against the grey sky. He observed his father from the corner of his eyes.
This would not be a long conversation.
He did not want to fully participate in any conversation with his father. It would be far too disappointing.
"Suit you," the older Evans muttered. "You must be wondering the exact purpose you are called here today."
Ryan observed his father, eyes glazed. He nodded his head.
The two men had no intention of spending anymore time together than was originally required. Both wanted to return to their own lives and erased the existence of the other completely.
"I do not know the exact reason why Sharpay has decided to give you her share of the company. She might have gotten tired of the harsh business environment. You do realize that you are holding a lot of power over the company?"
"I am aware of it," Ryan admitted, eyes studying the shelves of books.
"The board of directors has recently queried me regarding this matter. They are not entirely happy about this matter."
"I am not interfering with the company's progress."
"You might. The company will be yours in years to come and you dominating a huge part of the share will invoke dissatisfaction among the other shareholders. There will be no balance to the system. The division and delegation of power will become vague," his father explained.
Ryan shifted his gaze to the table lamp. "If I ever get the company."
His father studied him momentarily. "So you decide to have a larger hold of the company's share?"
"I still own the company. Just collectively with the other holders. Still my opinion matters most since I hold a majority of its share."
"I assume you have other plans?"
Ryan simply smiled. "I'm not making this easy for him. I might have other plans but I will not back down from this company. I have a reputation to live up to, father. I always get what I want or what people assume I want."
"This is all about your ego, isn't it?"
The young man studied his father's face.
"I don't understand you my son."
"Don't."
Troy Bolton shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes glued to his laptop screen. Downing his second glass of whiskey, he pressed 'enter' – submitting the list of directors and shareholders for the past years.
What did Ryan plan to do with all these?
He removed his glasses, rubbing his temple lightly.
To Troy, these documents hold no actual value to the company. Looking at the list, the name Skylar stood out the most.
Skylar was one of the company's shareholders whom Troy personally knew quite well. She hardly participated in the company's general or stockholder's meetings. Long retired from her law practice, she had provided the company with useful advises before moving to Germany with her husband a year ago.
He shifted his gaze from the screen to the grey sky outside his abode.
It was disturbing.
A few months later, Skylar and her husband were found dead in their apartment. The cops had ruled it out as another random robbery since a number of their valuables were missing. The old couples were just unfortunate.
But Troy Bolton thought otherwise.
Before her departure to Germany, Skylar had handed Troy a key. It was a key to a safe. He felt that Skylar was murdered due to content in the safe. She never told Troy the key was to which safe though– her own or one of the local banks?
Maybe he was just being paranoid.
The doorbell rang. It snapped the burnet awake from his train of thoughts. He glanced at his PC that was wired to the house's security cameras. It was just a delivery boy.
He made his way slowly to the door. He needed some time to clear his head.
"A parcel for Mr Bolton. Just sign here and here. Thank you," the boy droned, stifling a yawn.
He took the parcel gingerly and frowned. "There's no return address."
The delivery boy stared at Bolton. "Really?" he said with a bored expression.
Troy shook his head, closed the door and headed back to the living room. That boy needed serious counseling if he wanted to succeed in life.
He ripped the brown paper off and placed the slim box on the table. He tore open the envelope attached to the box, scanning the letter.
'Mister Bolton,
A surprise for you….and perhaps your wife.'
He raised his brows and studied the letter again. The design of the font told Troy that the letter was written using the near obsolete typewriter.
The brunet opened the box and shook the contents out. Photos and a CD slid out from the battered box.
Troy Bolton's eyes widned with shock as he lifted one of the photos to study.
Ryan Evans walked down the quiet park, arms folded tightly across his chest. It poured heavily last night and only halted this morning. It felt more like autumn than summer.
At least people would not die of heat stroke.
He used to despise the cold bitter weather but had learned to appreciate it over the years. It might have reminded him of the day of his confession to Bolton, but time could temper with the feeling of grief and disappointment. It just could not temper with love.
Ryan seated himself on the park's bench, admiring the skylines and the trees surrounding him. He observed an old couple moving slowly downwind. This type of weather permitted people to think in greyer hues. It allowed him to reflect and ponder about the future without involving any emotions.
A man in a grey overcoat took the seat beside him, crossing his legs as he admired the skylines.
"It's beautiful isn't it?"
Ryan studied the man briefly and agreed, "Yes. Especially in this weather."
The brunet smiled warmly while he removed his leather gloves. "Is it your hobby to observe the world from this light?"
"Aren't you the same?"
The man laughed, "Guilty as charged."
"You are pretty free. Don't you have anything to do back in your office?" Ryan questioned, realigning his thoughts.
"Nothing much. Only some papers to sign and a board to impress."
Ryan nodded as he digested the facts. He kept his face and voice clear of any emotions. It was not pleasant to be sitting next to the man in the grey overcoat.
"It's nice to talk about something outside work."
"Really? Does death fascinate you?" Ryan shifted his gaze to study the gentleman's bright lavender eyes.
"Can't we have an ordinary topic of discussion?" the man asked.
"Devereux, nothing is ordinary when it comes to you. You have a habit of escalating things."
"A prejudicial remark."
"Under normal conditions, you would have a bloodied nose by now."
"Is that a threat, Evans?"
"No. It's a warning," Ryan corrected the man.
"Ah," was Devereux's reply. "I was hoping for a friendly conversation."
"You have no friends," Ryan scoffed.
"I can sense your insecurity from here," Devereux commented, his lavender eyes dark. "We are alike to one another. We trust no one and expect little out of those around us."
"Don't associate me with you."
"I'm not saying we are exactly alike. We share certain similarities that are the foundation to our core believes and personalities," Devereux explained.
"I don't change my opinion that easily," Ryan said.
"I see. You still think I am fully responsible behind the crash?"
Ryan's eyes narrowed but he kept quiet.
"Well I better get moving," the handsome man smiled. "You should not be the only one who is worried."
Ryan sat there motionless and reflected on their entire conversation. Devereux was a complicated man – a bold yet elusive character. He watched the tall man walked away till he was no longer visible in sight.
Ryan dipped his head.
If he was lucky, he might die first before he was murdered.
Author: A gloomy chapter. Just to clear things up - Bolton has one PCs and two laptops. One of the laptops belongs to the company. Though I only mention one laptop....does a man need that many?....a friend asked me what's acetone peroxide. It's a non-nitrogenuos bomb that terrorist and some amature bomb makers love. It's mostly in the form of liquid - more stable than its solid state. It can bypass the airport bomb detector which can only detect nitrogenuos bombs - which explains why shampoo and any other liquids got banned. Not to mention that the compounds required to make it are cheap and easily attainable. So........I leave you to ponder about everything that is written in here. Umm, i'm changing one of the genre to crime...do anyone know how to add three genre to a story?