Welcome Money!
6: Sweet Dreams Esme…
Welcome Money!
The polished black table of the underground conference room reflected the harsh fluorescent lights overhead.
Rowan sat at the head of the long marble table, his hands folded neatly in front of him, looking over the five men seated along the sides.
The heavy steel door at the back of the room was guarded by two armed men, standing entirely still in the dim lighting.
Silence filled the room for several minutes.
No one spoke until Rowan casually adjusted his cuffs and leaned back in his chair, his cold gaze sweeping across the table.
“The shipments through the northern docks have been delayed twice this week,” Rowan said, his voice quiet, calm, and carrying an unmistakable weight that instantly drew everyone’s full attention.
“I don’t like delays, and I certainly don’t accept excuses.” One of the older men sitting halfway down the table cleared his throat nervously, adjusting his suit jacket.
“The port authorities increased their sweeps unexpectedly, Rowan.
We had to hold back the containers to avoid drawing attention.
It was a tactical decision.” Rowan stared at the man, his expression completely blank.
He didn’t blink or raise his voice.
“A tactical decision would have accounted for the schedule changes three days ago when the local patrol routes shifted.
You were careless, Marco.” Marco swallowed hard, dropping his eyes to the table.
“It won’t happen again.” “No, it won’t,” Rowan replied smoothly, turning his attention to the man seated on his right.
“Vince, what is the status of the warehouse expansion in the east district?” Vince pulled out a thin leather folder, opening it to reveal architectural blueprints and financial ledgers.
“The property acquisition is complete.
The previous owners signed off on the transfer yesterday afternoon.
Construction crews will begin reinforcing the perimeter by Monday morning.
It will give us double the storage capacity and a direct route out of the city limits if regional routes get blocked.” “Good,” Rowan said, casting a brief glance over the blueprints before looking back up.
“Ensure the security grid on that facility is isolated from the main city power grid.
I want independent backup generators installed before any cargo moves into those bays.” “Consider it done,” Vince nodded, taking a quick note in his folder.
Rowan then turned his sharp gaze toward the far end of the table, where a younger associate sat rigidly.
“And the leak regarding our transport routes?
Have you identified where the information originated?” The younger man hesitated for a second before answering nervously.
“We tracked the signal back to an internal terminal in the lower sector.
Someone pulled the route schedules four nights ago at midnight.
We’ve locked down access to those files and isolated the suspects.” Rowan’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous shift coming over his quiet composure.
“Isolate isn’t enough.
I want every log audited by tonight.
If someone in this organization is selling schedule manifests, I want them brought directly to me before the sun comes up tomorrow.
Am I clear?” “Yes, sir.
Absolutely,” the man replied quickly, bowing his head slightly.
Rowan stood up from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket with deliberate, precise movements.
The entire room immediately stood up with him, standing at attention out of reflex.
“We operate on discipline and absolute precision,” Rowan stated, sweeping his cold eyes over every face in the room one last time.
“If the northern docks aren’t cleared by tomorrow night, or if another file leaves our servers without authorization, I will hold each of you personally accountable.
Clean up your sectors.” Without waiting for a response, Rowan turned and walked toward the exit.
The two guards pulled the heavy steel doors open, and he stepped out into the corridor, leaving the room in dead silence behind him.
…
The night air was quiet, calm, and cold.
The Carvan estate was wrapped in absolute silence, broken only by the distant, rhythmic footsteps of guards patrolling the grounds.
Esme sat in the middle of the massive, empty living room.
She was curled up lazily on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, remote in hand, absentmindedly watching the TV screen.
“This girl is so foolish…” she muttered under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh as she watched the show.
“And so are her parents.” A tall female staff member approached her quietly from the hallway.
“Mrs.
Esme?” she called softly.
Esme looked up.
“Would you like me to bring you a drink?” the woman offered with a gentle bow.
Esme gave a faint, tired nod.
“Yes, please.” The staff member bowed slightly once more and turned toward the kitchen.
Esme sat up straight, reaching over to pick up her phone from the coffee table.
The screen illuminated her face, reading nearly 1:00 AM.
She clicked it off with a soft groan.
“I better go back to my room before he returns home,” she whispered to herself.
She picked up the remote, turned off the TV, and stood up to head toward the grand staircase.
“Mrs.
Esme, your juice,” the staff member called out, hurrying over with a chilled glass.
Esme paused at the foot of the stairs, a small smile touching her lips.
“I almost forgot.
Thank you.” She took the glass, and the woman smiled warmly, bowing her head as Esme began to climb the steps.
Watching her walk away, the staff member tilted her head, her smile turning cold and calculating as she whispered under her breath, “Sweet dreams, Esme…
welcome money.” Reaching her bedroom, Esme pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut it gently behind her.
She let out a long, exhausted breath and walked over to the bed, sinking onto the edge.
She stared down at the glass in her hands.
“I shouldn’t have said yes to the juice,” she thought regretfully.
Hoping it might help her sleep, she brought the glass to her lips and drank the entire thing in one go.
She set the empty glass down on her bedside table, but as soon as her hand left the glass, a sudden wave of pressure hit her temple.
“My head hurts…” she muttered, rubbing her forehead as her vision wobbled.
“And I feel dizzy…” Struggling against the sudden heaviness in her limbs, she pulled herself onto the bed, dragged the thick blanket over her body, and let her head sink into the pillow.
“I hope this nightmare comes to an end…” she whispered weakly.
She let out a heavy yawn, reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, and closed her eyes as darkness swallowed the room.
Hours passed in a deep, unnatural sleep.
Gradually, Esme felt a suffocating weight pressing down on her chest.
Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy and swollen.
The room was pitch black, and her vision was completely blurred, spinning in disorienting shapes.
She tried to lift a hand to touch her throbbing head, but her body refused to move properly.
As her focus desperately tried to clear, she realized a dark figure was hovering directly over her in the dim light.
Looking up at the face staring down at her, Esme parted her dry lips, her voice barely a breath.
“Eli…?” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Jael123 Who the freak is that staff…
i’m pretty sure she’s evil, right guys.
Also why is Eli in Esmes’ room!!!!!
Guys i’m scareddd and i need answerss!