2 Chapter Two

A few days ago

. . .

An unexpected visit disrupted the typically organized workplace of Sunrise Ltd—an esteemed subsidiary of the largest estate corporation in the world, FG&Q.

The entrance hall fell silent as onlookers marveled at the very footsteps of a woman clad in a red business suit. Her gait and composure exuded power and affluence, enough to swirl speculations about her identity. Yet, those in the know breathed audible gasps; she was, in fact, the very CEO of FG&Q, Greissha Ricci.

Greissha Ricci silently navigated her way through the floors of the building, heading towards the conference room where board members convened for an executive meeting. Unbeknownst to both higher-ups and regular employees, this surprise inspection was about to unravel some shady business on a cold, rainy day.

The conference room doors swung open with a dramatic gush of wind, halting Lee Byung Seok, the subsidiary's president, in the midst of his address. A disgruntled expression etched across his face, he rose to confront the intruder, only to be rendered speechless upon locking eyes with Greissha Ricci. Aka, his ultimate boss.

"CEO Ricci!" President Lee exclaimed, his attempt at enthusiasm falling flat, the look of utter surprise apparent on his weathered face. "What occasion brings you here, M-madam?"

Greissha Ricci offered no immediate reply, maintaining a stoic silence. Her penetrating gaze bore into President Lee before sweeping across the room, imprinting each board member's terrified expression on memory. Despite the room being well-conditioned and adequately ventilated, beads of sweat formed on foreheads—proving their guilty consciences pricked. She walked with purpose towards the front, every sharp, clacking sound her red-bottomed stilettos made amplified the tension within the room threefold.

Four notable figures trailed the CEO from behind. Two ladies, two gentlemen, all clad in uniform pitch-black suits for their entourage. Oblivious individuals would deem them as mere company, but those in the know would be terrified to find all these legends in one place. They were pioneers in their industries, waiting to be introduced in their spotlight. But at this moment, the spotlight enveloped none but one person.

Greissha Ricci stood in front of everyone, looking all mighty and volant. Her red outfit left an impression of her emerging from a battle, all bloody but victorious. Well, the real battle was just about to begin.

"Pardon my intrusion," Greissha Ricci said with a smile on her pretty face, "I have something better to report than your subsidiary's measly profit."

Her four companions slid dozens of folders across the table, a copy for each of the board members, who opened the folders with shaky hands. The folders earned some collective gasps throughout its pages. There were photographs, file reports, and statements of accounts that revealed the real purpose of Greissha Ricci's visit.

"Of all the lands you could seize, you just had to target a poor orphanage for measly profit, didn't you?" Greissha said with that same sinister smile, "You're the lowest of the low."

A few days ago, she received a call from one of the orphanages she was sponsoring in the middle of sipping some pina colada on a beach—in bright and sunny, loved by many, Puerto Rico. Mother Lisa, the reverend mother of the orphanage, continued her hello on the phone with a sorry and a thank you. Of course, any sane mind would be confused by the order of how the reverend mother delivered things. Greissha was just as puzzled before the nun explained that she was thanking Greissha for sponsoring the orphanage for years, and gave an apology for them not doing enough, which could be the reason why Greissha had to suspend the tenure for the orphanage.

Greissha NEVER, even without her right mind, ever ordered the suspension of any orphanage's tenure. So when the call ended, it cut short her vacation, and she immediately launched an investigation to find the root of this atrocity.

Perhaps her investigators were too proficient, having unearthed bigger secrets they were better off not knowing. But one thing was for sure, there was someone in her own midst who had the audacity to execute things against her will. That person ought to pay. With a flick of a hand, Greissha Ricci bade her farewell to the corrupted board members. "See you all in prison."

A commotion broke loose within a second. A sleazy big-tummy board member immediately clung to her feet as the others wailed on their knees; pleading, begging to be spared. But they were all too late to beg for forgiveness.

"Miss Ricci! Please spare me! I only agreed to Mr. Lee's proposition! He promised us shares and dividends!"

"CEO Ricci!" another one begged, pretty similar in script to all the other pleas. "I have a family!"

Well, good for you, Greissha thought to herself. 'Cause orphans don't.

Greissha Ricci's first male companion offered his handkerchief to Mr. Lee, "Don't worry, President Lee, when your daughter becomes an orphan after sending you to jail, we'll find her a decent orphanage."

They all left the room flooded with tears.

. . .

The police were right outside the door to arrest everyone involved in corruption, and Greissha went home as always, lulled in a limousine with her six companions and their respective identities yet to be revealed.

"Finally, I can get out of these flimsy clothes!" One of the gentlemen said, now revealing his previous facade and real nature. "God! How do you live in these clothes, Timothy?"

Timothy Eisenhower, the man in question, sat straight with his sharp grey eyes framed by glasses, his neatly combed blonde hair accentuating a distinguished presence. Clad in a flawlessly pressed jet-black suit, he exuded charisma and influence—capable of persuading others into thoughtless actions. While globally recognized as an international lawyer, only a select few colleagues and friends were privy to his identity as a doctor in medicine.

"I do not remember suggesting we go by these clothes," he said, sporting his British accent with a soothing voice, "It was you who wanted drama, Mr. Leon."

Leon rolled his eyes. It was indeed him who convinced others to copy Timothy's wardrobe for the day, fueled by his want to appear 'normal' which his daily wardrobe fails at. A mischievous smile crossed his face, his jet-black hair covering half his face, an image befitting that of a world-famous, but also anonymous 'computer guy'.

"Everyone else agrees it was a great idea," he said, "Right, Felise?"

The beautiful redhead, Felise Grummon, to whom Leon directed his question at turned the other way, completely ignoring the brute and his antics, "The imprisonment of those board members will gain unnecessary attention," she said, "How do you want us to proceed, Miss Ricci?"

Greissha Ricci was playing with her nails, not putting much mind to the serious issue at hand. "No use dwelling over things that are yet to happen," she said, "We'll wait. They'll make their move soon. Perhaps, sooner that we expect."

When Greissha launched an investigation a few days ago, not only did her team pinpoint the mastermind in this scheme, they also unearthed a plot involving big names. The ministers of both Japan and Korea were in cahoots, both plotting to oust their reigning leaders. For their deviousness' success, they needed funds and began pulling corrupt businessmen into their reins. A dozen of those businessmen were directors of Sunrise Limited, and sending them to prison meant revealing Greissha Ricci's knowledge of this plot.

"You should keep me around all the time," Lily Beck, a meek-looking woman, with the gentlest eyes and the softest voice said, "I will keep you safe."

Contrary to her appearance, Lily was the reigning judo world-champion. A two-time taekwondo olympic gold-medalist who was also adept in jeet kun do, karate, and mix martial arts. It terms of strength and overall physicality, she was most trusted in keeping their mistress safe.

"It's alright," Greissha said, "It's a small price to pay for my ambition."

. . .

When Greissha arrived home, her apartment was colder than how it should be. Some of the furnitures were amiss or slightly askew from their original orientation. Without any hint of panic, her feet maintained their pace, walking steadily toward the living room that ironically reeked of death.

"Good evening, Miss Ricci," A voice greeted her the moment her soles touched the carpeted floor. "I believe you already know me?"

. . .