Everyone was so drowned in their zone of celebration that they failed to notice the shift in air —a change that had occurred long ago. It was just that they never realized it, or more like ignored it.
They failed to realize that the victory they had been anticipating for weeks would never arrive at their doorstep.
Their dream of watching Aiden Winslow down on his knees, begging for their support, would forever just remain —'a dream'.
And worse —they had failed to notice that they were about to lose far more than they had ever hoped to gain.
Blinded by the illusion of success, they cheered, toasted, and laughed, believing that the tide had turned in their favour. They thought Aiden was just a step away from getting defeated.
But thinking all that they couldn't have been more wrong.
"Haha … just a few minutes more and that lad had to agree on defeat publicly," Old Dickens slurred as he took another glass of whisky to enjoy. "Who did he think he was? Just a newborn. Heh! I am greater than his dad. Did he think I won't retaliate?"
People sitting around him halted at his words, before exchanging gazes with each other and bursting into laughter.
"True, that lad has barely succeeded in the industry and he thought he could be a tyrant in front of us. Who did he think we were?" one of them boasted, feeling high under the effect of newly grown arrogance.
Others smirked and nodded. "He might be capable, but without our support he is nothing. We are the main force behind the success that he flaunts around."
"Enough!" Mr. Dickens interrupted, garbling his voice. "You all want to act high and mighty. Don't forget —I … I am your Dad. It was who pushed him to this brink. If not for , how else all of you have the guts? Even that lad's own father fears to attack upfront. Do you all think you have the guts to do so?"
It was true.
None of them dared to stand in front of Aiden even now when they all know that he is weak and vulnerable.
Even now, they feared that facing him would bring them the consequences they and their generations that are yet to co will suffer.
It was only on the prompt of old Dickens did they agreed. They hesitate at the firm. But when they thought that their little courage would bring them bigger profits and would make the 'Aiden Winslow' recognize them, they couldn't ignore the temptation.
"We still have to learn a lot from you, Mr. Dickens. Be our master," soone chid and hearing him, soon others also started flattering the old man.
The old man was very satisfied, and the alcohol in his system only multiplied the effect of his satisfaction. Grinning, he nodded to everyone. "I—"
He was about to speak, however, just then the doors of the private room burst open.
In the effect of soone's abrupt entry, the air stilled for a second as everyone turned to look at the person who ca disrespectfully like that.
Although they all were close to getting drunk like there was no tomorrow, still they had so sense intact. Upon looking at the person who had barged in like that, soone spoke with recognition.
"Hey—isn't that Mr. Clamor, the coward ally."
Another one stepped forward, staggering, to take a closer look and nodded. "Yes, I confirm that's him. But why is he here?"
"Hehe … now he must have believed that we are finally going to succeed. That's why he ca to enjoy the drink with us." the person looked down at the empty bottle and continued. "Too bad … everything here is almost over. You ca late, friend."
"It's fine," Mr Dickens grinned. "We can always order more. After all, tomorrow is ours!"
He waved lazily to a server to bring another round.
But the man who had just entered —Mr. Clamor —stepped forward and raised his hand.
"No," he said, panting, his voice sharp with urgency. "No need to order anything more."
His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat glistening on his face, his tie crooked and suit wrinkled.
"It's over. We are already finished. What's there to celebrate?"
The room blinked in confusion.
So ignored while others scowled.
"What nonsense are you spouting?"
"Get lost!"
"Yes, get lost! If you are not here to drink, don't ruin the mood!"
Mr. Clamor stood firm, shaking his head. "I am serious. Everything we built —everything we planned —has collapsed. It never going to work. It was all a setup. We lost completely."
He hadn't even caught his breath when the doors slamd open again.
This ti, another man barged in, equally dishevelled, panic scrawled across his face.
He ignored the crowd's stares and rushed towards the closest man with a remote.
"Quick! Turn on the news!" he shouted. "Channel 5. Now. the economic segnt!"
The remote was snatched up. Soone fumbled with the buttons. The screen flickered to life. And the next mont, silence replaced everything.
The people were too stunned and dumbfounded to realize that they couldn't hear a word of the anchor because of the music around them. All their eyes were fixed on the screen, staring with paled expression. Even if they can't be here, they can still read.
And just by reading, they could tell that they were finished.
The server who was standing there noticed the change in the air. Although he didn't understand what was happening. Still, he reached out to turn off the volu of the music that was deafening everything else.
And only when he did that, people realized what had happened.
Mr. Dicken's eyes were closed, so he was still far from understanding what was happening. But when amidst the silence he heard the anchor announcing, his eyes shot open as he stared at the screen with indecipherable emotion.
"This … how did this happen? This is impossible."
"No, this can't happen."
A few of them slumped on the floor, their heart already losing the capability to beat.
"We are finished."
"We all have lost!"
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