Running Away

Anna was brought back by the ringing of a phone call plus the violent buzzing that seemed to have made the entire table vibrate. It was Mr. Bitch's phone, and she was too slow to sneak a peek at what was written on the screen except for the first letter, which was a large, uppercase D.

What interested Anna, however, was the reaction of Mr. Bitch when he caught sight of the name of the caller. He got astonished on the first second, and then his expression turned shocked until finally, he lost all the elegant air he had been putting on and what dominated was, unexpectedly, a look of fright.

Probably he had been aware of her presence and the situation he had found himself in, he instantly pulled himself up straight, picked up the phone with slightly trembling hands whilst trying hard to stay poised.

"Sorry, a phone call." He said briefly to Anna before pressing the green button. Then, he adjusted his collar, leaned himself against the chair and answered the phone call as if he were well prepared to greet an old friend.

"Greetings, my dearest brother." His voice was almost a relaxed laugh full of glee.

Brother?! Anna could not help but feel surprised inside her heart. So it had been his brother's call that made this extraordinarily excellent and impossibly good-looking young man shiver? She deeply doubted what kind of brother he must have been so that he had appalled this sweet guy…Wait, could the word "demon" have been the contact name saved on Mr. Bitch's screen?

That was indeed a bold conjecture.

Anna was still in the middle of going through all kinds of speculations when she heard a voice, low, deep and clear coming out through the custom-made phone of the most expensive brand in the world. The voice greeted her ears, driving any other idea of hers away from the head.

"Five more minutes, and you will have no signed contracts left."

This sentence was spoken in a dark tone, startling Mr. Bitch so tremendously that he almost slipped off the chair. About half a second after the last word ended, he let out a muffled cry of despair, face distorted by agony.

"Noooo! That's unfair, I have just signed Vivi the Cosmetic, your Vivi!"

"Four minutes." Said the voice, totally ignoring what Mr. Bitch had protested.

Mr. Bitch instantly changed his objecting tone into some kind of pacification. He added urgently, "Okay, okay, I will be there now! But seriously, Brother, were we really born by the same mother…"

He was interrupted by a longer sentence spoken by that mysterious voice that brought about horror. "The Antarctica Project will start tomorrow."

That was the last drop. When Mr. Bitch heard this seemingly plain statement, he collapsed. But he immediately pulled himself up with hands grabbing at the table, took up the small handbag squeezed to the corner of the chair, and waved to me with a forced smile whilst speaking in a trembling voice.

"I am sorry, Anna, I really have to go, ehh, catch you later, bye!"

In utter confusion, Anna slowly raised her arm and waved him goodbye with an equally forced beam. She watched him dashing off the café and the last sentence her ears caught almost jerked her up from the chair as well.

"I really have no intention of being the only representative on that freezing island for Cherrington Group!"

He left in such a hurry that the glass door banged. Yet even that thundering noise did not fully get Anna back from astonishment.

Did he just say 'Cherrington Group'? Yes, he definitely did. There was no other enterprise that shared a similar name as Cherrington, or to be more specific, there were none others that dared to make one that shared the same syllable.

To those who had been unaware, Cherrington Group was the most powerful and legendary enterprise in the entire country, one that ranked the second in the world's Top 100 enterprise for decades in a row. It was involved with various fields and it had lost to no one in any competition. The Group earned tons of money each year and the fortune they carried, as the media phrased it, was too considerable for any smaller enterprise to ever surpass.

Story went that the core reason why Cherrington could be so prevailing was because of its generations of presidents, who were undoubtedly capable, strict and strong, and most importantly, intimidating and cold-hearted. The public considered each of Cherrington's presidents as an intangible assassin, and their president took the position not through selection or appointment, but through inheritance. Yes, Cherrington Group would have been an empire, if it had existed several hundred years ago, although it was more or less a modern empire anyway.

But why did Mr. Bitch have anything to do with the Cherrington Group, and why was he going to be the representative of their so-called "the Antarctica Project"? Could he be working with the Group and the brother he had been so scared of was actually his manager?

Hundreds of bizarre questions surged into Anna's mind, and she found that none of them could be worth believing at all. Cherrington Group was enormous and those who were able to work there would hardly have time or energy for anything else, especially not in writing such a… fashionable blog on this incredibly minor website. They were always well paid and occupied, and spiritually tormented by the heavy workload pressed down from their lethal president.

Anna brushed away the ridiculous thought in her brain, drank up her coffee and left the café with the folder that contained his signed contract. As she passed through the glass door, she could not help but notice a clear crack on the thoroughly-cleaned surface, and that had not been there fifteen minutes ago when she came in.

Anna let out a sigh of apprehension and realized that it must have been generated from the violent push of Mr. Bitch, but soon she got alerted again. She subconsciously glanced at the waitresses who were busy serving guests and found that none of them was paying attention to the almost broken door.

Since when did the waitresses of this café become so nonchalant about their precious accessory in the store?