"This doesn't look right,"
Richard thought to himself, the bright blue desktop screen reflecting on his face.
His under-eye bags were heavy—both from exhaustion and the journey of life, as he was a little over forty.
He leaned closer, adjusting his computer glasses, wanting to ensure that what he was seeing was correct.
"An embezzlement?!" he gasped, leaning back in his chair in exasperation.
His thoughts raced as he tried to figure out who was behind it and why they would attempt to steal from the World Bank.
"Well, they're either bold or stupid; whichever it is, they've got guts!"
He leaned in again, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he traced the source of the embezzlement.
As an analyst in his field for the past ten years, he easily tracked the transactions.
"A misdirection of funds?" he remarked, smiling to himself. "Smart move, but unfortunately, I'm smarter."
He continued typing, unwilling to give up until he uncovered the source of the corruption.
The World Bank was created to help improve impoverished countries, with funds in the trillions—yet an individual or a group had tried to dip their hands into the honeycomb.
He wasn't going to allow that.
He typed away all night, downing coffee after coffee, until he finally reached his goal.
"Gotcha..." He slumped into his chair, a grin plastered on his exhausted face.
"I'll have to ask for a raise for this," he muttered, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction.
A prideful smirk played on his lips as he drifted into slumber.
_______
"Hey Richie, wake up!" He felt a tug at his shoulders.
"I am up..." He lifted his body suddenly, jumping, scared by his colleague's attempt to wake him.
"Man! You almost gave me a heart attack..." His colleague held his chest, feeling the heart attack Richard almost gave him.
"Hurry and get ready, it's almost time..."
Richard drowsily rose to his feet, dragging himself to the gym showers.
He had worked overtime again but never complained, as the pay was always worth it.
"This guy, he should get married and go home more often," his colleague mumbled unconsciously, shifting his eyes to Richard's desktop, his face ashen as he noticed what Richard was up to.
On the screen was a report titled:
Misdirection of Funds: Discrepancies in Disbursement to Targeted Beneficiaries.
He scanned through it, recognizing most of the groups.
"Sh*t, this guy is too good for his own good," he said, sitting down at his desk and quickly copying the report onto his flash drive.
Done, he speed-dialed a number.
"Madam, we have a problem..."
_____
The orange brilliance of the sun bathed the majestic building of the World Bank, its luminance making the building sparkle like diamonds.
Richard hummed a tune to himself as he walked down the hallway, the orange radiance bathing him in its warm embrace.
The fatigue of the night before was almost unnoticeable on his cheerful face.
"Time for a raise; I might finally settle down, or maybe not," he laughed to himself, believing the idea of marriage was a joke.
He was a happy bachelor, free from all the responsibilities yet getting all the perks.
Knock! Knock!
He gently knocked at the INT vice president's door.
"Come in"
He gently opened the door, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
"Huh!" he exclaimed internally but didn't have time to ponder, already stepping into the vice president's office.
"Luke," he wondered, noticing Luke, the colleague who had woken him up earlier, standing in the corner, his head lowered.
A strong yet serene smell of peach wafted into his nose, his gaze wandering to the source, a beautiful woman sitting with her back facing him.
She sat with the elegance of a noble, her blonde hair like strands of gold, glittering in the orange luminance of the morning sun.
"Charlotte?!" he exclaimed, wondering what the daughter of the President of the World Bank was doing there.
He shifted his gaze; whatever it was, it wasn't his problem.
He was just here to report an embezzlement, and that's when something seemed to click.
"No... it can't be. Right?!" He shook his head, unwilling to believe ' that '
He turned his gaze to the person he came to talk to, his heart sinking upon noticing his expression—cold and emotionless, unlike his usual cheerful demeanor.
"Hahaha... Well, it's a given, and here I thought I could get a raise..."
He chuckled to himself, his expression turning cold.
All the pieces fell into place—he was framed, even before he got here.
He side-glanced at Luke, the only person who could have gotten wind of the embezzlement, and at Charlotte, who was clearly part of it, if not the mastermind.
"Let's get this over with..." he stepped forward.
"Vice president, I have something to show you." He gave the documents to the vice president of the INT, his expression unreadable.
At this moment, he had lost his cheerful demeanor; even the fear of the inevitable was not present.
He was unwilling to allow an ounce of emotion to show—no weakness.
"You are a funny guy," the vice president commented after browsing through the documents, throwing the papers at Richard's face.
He stood there, unblinking, his expression unreadable.
For a brief second, the vice president was shaken, but considering his position, he quickly regained his composure.
He believed Richard had stolen from the World Bank, and to avoid suspicion, decided to bring it to the board—the crying thief tactic.
"You think we are a joke, huh!!!" he roared.
"How can someone of your caliber try to dip your hand in the world's fund?" He paused, gazing at the papers on the ground. "And you think you could pass it off as embezzlement... Who else can access the funds if not you..."
The vice president continued to reprimand Richard. The middle-aged man remained quiet, his head held up, his gaze unwavering, staring into the eyes of his superior.
Charlotte turned to both men, the show not playing out as she expected.
Richard, who should have been begging, was quiet—his gaze unwavering, indifferent to her insults.
"This lowly trash..." She stood up, unable to contain her rage.
Slap!!
A loud and crisp sound reverberated through the room, the vice president's pupils dilating in shock, Richard's facade collapsing as a look of shock embraced his features.
"She dares slap me..." he thought, his brown eyes reflecting Charlotte's figure.
A youth in her early twenties slapping a man who could be her father.
"Miss Charlotte, it's okay..." The vice president separated the two.
Charlotte glared at Richard as if the man had committed a crime.
Well, being weak has always been a crime, whether in wealth or raw strength.
"Luke, we will sue you for everything you have, and no firm will hire you for your crimes of stealing from the World Bank..."
Richard Deamonour had already collapsed.
Falling into a state of shock, the ringing in his ear was the only thought in his mind
He knew he would lose everything, but never once thought he would be slapped.
Security guided him out of the room, still dazed from the slap.
Before he knew it, he stood in court, the judge's gavel pounding out his fate.
"…You are hereby sentenced to ten years' imprisonment, with no parole."
His case rushed.
The bars closed on him, his lifeless pupils looking beyond the bars. He might be wearing a facade—a necessity when walking with the rich—but truly, he felt the pain of his loss. He had no family, at least, but the wealth he had gathered... and now his freedom was gone.
"Wow, life is a real bitch."