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The Salaryman's Revenge


Chapter One- Veil of Deception


Ronan Adams slouched over his desk, the early morning sunlight trickling through the blinds of his cramped office. Papers were strewn across his workspace, punctuated by the relentless ring of his desk phone.


He had barely managed to close his eyes when a sharp, familiar voice pierced the air.


“Mr. Adams. What’s the meaning of this?”


Ronan slowly lifted his head. He knew who stood in front of him without even needing to look.


First, there were the meticulously polished heels, leading up to the elegant curve of her calves. As his gaze continued, it took in the taut lines of her skirt, perfectly fitted around her thighs, moving up to a cinched waist that defined her silhouette. Above the waist, her blouse, white and crisp, hinted at the contours of her figure without revealing too much. Finally, his eyes settled on her face, framed by short, dark hair that fell just below her ears.


This was Helena Pierce, the CEO’s executive assistant.


“Did you hear me, Mr. Adams?”


Ronan straightened in his chair, fighting the fatigue that threatened to pull him back into his half-asleep state.


“Sorry, Miss Pierce. I’ll call them right away,” he replied.


“You’d better. We don’t have all day,”


As she walked away, Ronan’s gaze lingered on her retreating form. It was not just her appearance that drew his attention, but the aura of power and precision she exuded.


With a sigh, he turned back to the phone and dialed the extension Helena had mentioned. The line buzzed for a moment before a voice answered.


“Hello, this is Adams from Legal. We need to clear up the issue at Dockside immediately,”


The voice on the other end mumbled a quick acknowledgment before the line went dead. Ronan rubbed his temples.


Just as he was about to return to his paperwork, the phone rang again. He answered it, expecting another mundane task, but instead, he was met with a terse, almost conspiratorial voice.


“Mr. Adams, there’s been an incident. You need to handle it quietly.”


The line went dead before he could ask for more details.




The next morning arrived with an overcast sky. Ronan sat at his desk, staring blankly at his computer screen.


The cryptic phone call had set off a chain of thoughts he couldn't quite shake. What incident? Why handle it quietly?


His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his office door. It was Helena, holding a thick folder under her arm. She entered without waiting for an invitation.


“Mr. Adams, there are some documents that need your immediate attention. They pertain to a matter that requires... discretion.”


Ronan took the folder from her, noting the Barrington Corp. insignia embossed on the cover. He opened it to find a series of legal documents, each stamped with the word “Confidential” in bold red letters.


“What is this?” he asked.


“It’s part of an internal investigation,” she replied. “You’ve been assigned to handle the legal aspects discreetly. We need to ensure that this doesn’t become public knowledge.”


Ronan nodded slowly. Barrington Corp. was a giant in the financial world, but its shadowy side was an open secret. The company had a reputation for skirting the edges of legality, and it seemed he was about to be drawn into its darker dealings.


“Be careful, Mr. Adams. Not everything is as it seems,” she said before finally leaving.

Once she was gone, Ronan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.


He flipped through the documents again, this time more slowly.


The hours ticked by as Ronan pored over the files. The further he read, the more he realized that this wasn’t just another corporate cover-up.


As the day turned to night, Ronan found himself alone in the office. He was about to pack up and leave when his phone buzzed with a new message.


It was from an unknown number. The message was brief but chilling: “Stop digging, or you’ll regret it.”



The following day, Ronan walked into the office with a sense of foreboding. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the streets of Harper City.


Inside the plush offices of Blackwood Holdings, Ronan Adams sifted through a sea of documents, each page more damning than the last.


He knew that Barrington Corp. was embroiled in something far darker than mere corporate misdeeds


Then, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Choi, the company’s fixer:


Check your email. Urgent.


Ronan opened his laptop and logged into his inbox. A new email from Choi sat at the top, flagged as high priority.


The subject line read: “Bellevue Incident – Immediate Action Required.” He clicked it open, his eyes scanning the brief but pressing instructions:


Ronan, there’s been an accident involving one of our executive's cars. It’s in the showroom of an antique furniture store. Owner demands 8,000 for repairs and compensation. Handle it discreetly. Maxi.


Ronan cursed under his breath. It was always the same story with Barrington’s executives — reckless behavior followed by frantic efforts to cover it up.


He knew his role all too well: smooth things over, pay what was needed, and ensure that no trace of the incident ever reached the press.


He was preparing to head out, whenhis phone rang again. The caller ID showed it was Helena Pierce.


“Mr. Adams,the CEO’s wife has requested your assistance this evening. She needs someone to accompany her on a shopping trip.”


“Helena, I’m on my way to handle another urgent matter. Can’t someone else go?”


“There is no one else. You’ll be meeting her at the Belleview Mall. She expects you there in an hour. Please ensure she has everything she needs.”


Before Ronan could argue further, the line went dead.




Ronan arrived at Belleview Mall with time to spare, but his mood was far from calm.

The mall was bustling with activity, its corridors filled with shoppers and the aroma of food from nearby eateries. He made his way to the VIP parking lot, where the CEO’s wife, Vivian Blackwood, was waiting.


Her presence was unmistakable — even in her late sixties, Vivian commanded attention with her sleek silver hair and designer clothes.


As Ronan approached, he could see Vivian tapping her foot impatiently, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses.


Beside her were two sleek, black SUVs, their windows tinted to keep prying eyes away.


“Mr. Adams, I hope you’re ready. We have a lot to do.” she said.


“Yes, Mrs. Blackwood. I’m here to assist you,” Ronan replied, forcing a polite smile.

As they entered the mall, her entourage — two burly security guards and her personal assistant, a young man named Paul— trailed behind them.


They made their way to a high-end boutique on the top floor. The store manager rushed to greet them.


“Welcome, Mrs. Blackwood! We’ve prepared the new collection just for you,” she said.

Vivian gave a curt nod and walked past her, heading straight for the racks of clothes. Ronan and the others followed. As Vivian browsed, she would occasionally pick out an item and hold it up for inspection. Each time, she would turn to Paul, her assistant, for his opinion.


“What do you think of this one?”


“It’s perfect, Mrs. Blackwood. You have an excellent eye for fashion.”


Vivian beamed at his response and handed him the dress.


After a few more minutes of browsing, Vivian selected several more items and handed them to Paul. “Let’s try these on,” she said, heading towards the fitting rooms.


As she disappeared behind the curtain, Ronan turned to Paul.


“So, how long have you been working with Mrs. Blackwood?” he asked.


“A few months now. She’s quite particular, but I enjoy the challenge.”


Vivian’s voice called out from the fitting room. “Paul, could you help me with this zipper? It’s stuck.”


Ronan raised an eyebrow as Paul hurried to assist her. Now he was certain, Paul is the Madam's new plaything.


“What’s the matter?” Ronan asked quietly.


The manager looked around before leaning in closer. “Mrs. Blackwood… she’s very demanding. We always have to clear the store when she comes, but today, we didn’t have enough time.”


Ronan frowned. “I see. Let me handle it.”


He stepped outside the store and approached the mall’s security desk. After a brief conversation with the head of security, he returned to find the store now empty except for Vivian, Paul, and the store’s staff.


Vivian emerged from the fitting room, dressed in the red dress she had selected earlier. She twirled in front of the mirror.


“What do you think, Paul?” she asked.


“You look stunning, Mrs. Blackwood. Absolutely stunning.”


“I’ll take it,” she said, turning to the store manager. “And everything else I tried on today.”


The manager nodded eagerly and began to gather the clothes.


Suddenly, Ronan’s phone buzzed again. It was another message from Maxi:


Handled the furniture store issue. Focus on keeping Mrs. Blackwood happy.


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