From Scorn to Sparkling; The son-in-law's Redemption.

CHAPTER NINE: Tom's Splash of fallen wealth.

In an old building, another of Romsey's childhood friend, Prince Tom, a once renowned businessman had taken two days off, nursing inner wounds from the recent humiliation inflicted by one of his company's investors. He knew he had to seek funds to repay debts, but the daunting task left him with uncertainty, he certainly had little or no idea of who to approach at this juncture as all that was written about Flames and Co. were debts from unpaid loans.

Flames and Co, a company that once stood as the magnanimous pyramids of Chicago business magazines is facing ruins over miscalculated and exorbitant expenses, coupled with insincere workers.

*****

Most recalled was the humiliation of the early Friday morning, a day Prince Tom stood watching a man who had once been a friend and business partner storm into his office, pushing his secretary away, when she tried to stop him by telling him that the CEO wasn't in the office. Of course, there was no way he wouldn't be in office as far as his once glittering G-class Mercedes Benz was parked outside.

"Prince Tom, I hope you're aware of my reason for being here today," Mr. Francis, a middle-aged man of imposing stature, announced as he entered. His voice resonated with authority, underscoring the seriousness of the situation.

"I'm sure your secretary informed you of my visit. I can't fathom why you keep dodging my calls," Mr. Francis continued, his tone laced with thinly veiled frustration. "As you can see, I've run out of patience, and all I want now is my money!!."

Prince Tom met Mr. Francis's piercing gaze, feeling the weight of impending doom bearing down on him, he motioned for Mr. Francis to take a seat, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within him.

... "Please, have a seat. You should know I'm always ready to face any music, especially from a trusted friend and partner like you. We've been friends for years," he said, his words laced with a blend of pity and calmness, attempting to soften the blow of the day's events.

"What would you like to drink?" Prince Tom continued, extending a polite gesture. "I can have Rosaline bring our finest drinks for you to enjoy."

Mr. Francis's grin belied the determination that simmered beneath the surface. He knew he needed his money, and he wasn't leaving without it. He managed to spill out calm words, 'I am not after that for now, all I am after is my money, please!!

..."Rosaline!" Prince Tom's voice boomed, calling upon his loyal secretary, who stood as a silent witness to the unfolding drama. She entered cautiously, as though unsure of what awaited her, her eyes betraying the strain of months without pay.

"What do we have in the office refrigerator?" Prince Tom inquired, feigning ignorance of their dwindling supplies. He was fully aware that the last bottle of drink was given to Mr.Isidor, a creditor of a more patient disposition than Mr. Francis.

The tension in the room thickened as she stammered.

"We can always serve him anything he needs sir...

'Okay, please fetch my friend a drink suitable for his class and standard. Prince Tom replied, smiling to cover his pretense.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, and for several minutes she never showed up. Prince Tom, recognizing the need to start up a conversation, then spoke up.

"I had plans to pay you today, I did. But..." His words stumbled out like rocks tumbling down a hill as if he was trying to fish out excuses from a deep well with a short rope.

Mr. Francis's softened expression turned stern, his patience wearing thin after enduring "365” days of excuses. He remembered every single day, counting them like beads on a string.

Prince Tom, sensing the change, tried to shift the conversation. "How's your family? Your wife and kids?" he asked, a familiar tactic to distract from the matter at hand. But Mr. Francis saw through it; he always asked about family before bringing up the divorce he had with his wife some years ago, and the money lost in the process. Today, however, Mr. Francis seemed ready for action.

The room crackled with tension. First silence, then the action. Mr. Francis stood up, as though he was ready to pounce on his prey, he lay hold of the object on the table, yes, that was the closest thing to his reach. The closest thing that belonged to Prince Tom, he stood for some seconds, folding his fists then got hold of Prince Tom's car key, a bunch of keys which contained his office and possibly his room keys, and stormed out of the office…

****

Drained by the weight of his worries, Prince Tom collapsed onto his plush brown leather sofa, his eyes shut tight as if trying to shut out the troubles plaguing his mind. Before him, a colossal screen television adorned the living room wall, a silent witness to his silent struggles.

Hours later, the tranquility was interrupted by the delicate click-clack of high-heeled shoes. Roselvett, radiant and poised, entered the room, her presence commanding attention. "Good afternoon, Dad," she greeted, concern etched in her voice. "You look troubled. What's wrong? And why are you sitting like this? Didn't you go to work today? Where's your car?"

Prince Tom's eyes fluttered open, staring at her with a mixture of weariness. "Where have you been for three good days?" he asked, the question heavy with unspoken worry.

"Dad, I'm a grown woman. I have the right to my own space," Roselvett replied, her voice tinged with defiance. "I just wanted to check on you. But if you want to talk, I'll be downstairs after I change."

"Once you're ready, meet me here. There's something important we need to discuss," Prince Tom insisted, his tone firm as he watched her ascend the staircase. "She's grown now, just like her mother," he mused to himself. "I hope she doesn't inherit her mother's flaws. She needs to marry Mr. Romsey. It's our only option. I need his favor to save our company. I can't let everything crumble."

In the dimly lit living room, Roselvett's eyes lingered on an old photo resting on the wall. It showed her parents holding hands with her as a little girl. It reminded her of happier times, back when things felt simpler when laughter filled the air.

"Dad, your phone's been ringing for ages," she said softly, her voice breaking the silence in the spacious living room.

Prince Tom, lost in his thoughts, barely noticed her presence. "Just leave it on the table, Rose. It can wait," he replied absentmindedly, his mind preoccupied with unseen worries.

Rose, as her dad often called her, had prepared dinner, a feast fit for the evening, her aim to make her ever-worried dad happy. The table was adorned with boiled yams, fried eggs, mashed potatoes, butternut rolls, and a colorful array of fresh veggies. A glass of juice sparkled like a gem in the fading light.

Inviting her father to join her, Rose felt a heaviness in the air, a tension thick enough to slice. As they sat down, the clink-clink clink of utensils against plates sounded hollow, and the atmosphere strained.

"Dad," Rose began, breaking the uneasy silence, "you mentioned wanting to talk about something important. What is it?"

Prince Tom's response came quickly, as though he'd been waiting for her question. "That's fine, Rose, you know that you're at an age where marriage is of the essence," he said, his voice tinged with urgency, his eyes glued to his phone screen as though trying to evade her surprising eyes.

Before Rose could respond, he continued his tone firm, "I have someone in mind for you, someone who can provide and is very wealthy. You must give him a chance!!"

"Must I, Dad?" Rose's voice trembled, a mixture of defiance and disbelief evident in her tone. "Is that what this is about? Am I just a piece in your game?"

Her father's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating the room with their weight. "You must marry Romsey," he declared, his voice booming, his frustration palpable, with his hands hitting the dining table.

Rose recoiled, her heart racing with a mix of anger and despair. "And if I refuse?" she dared to ask, her voice shaking with defiance.

Prince Tom's response was swift and unwavering. "There is no refusal, Rose. This is not negotiable," he stated firmly, his resolve unyielding, his eyes ablaze with determination.

As the tension reached its peak, Rose felt the weight of her father's expectations pressing down on her, threatening to crush her spirit. With every fiber of her being, she longed to break free from his control, to forge her path, to defy the fate he had chosen for her, but age was not a decisive factor here.

Prince Tom was a determined man, but greed and desire to revamp his company hit him constantly, it hit him so hard that he seemed to forget that the arranged marriage he was trying to orchestrate between his daughter and Mr. Brown was not a thing to do, considering his daughter's age and happiness.