The Youngest Son of Sunyang Chapter 3
Via Vienna, the 16-hour flight landed at Chisinau international airport. As I stepped out of the terminal, one muscular man appeared out of nowhere.
“How was the flight?” he asked. And he said he was sent by vice-chairman.
What the hell was he doing here?
The sudden weakness in my legs made me stumble.
I retraced what vice-chairman had said before.
‘Once the prosecution investigation ends after it is determined that the money is missing.’
He told the truth except that...
The prosecution would announce that I vanished with the money that was to be invested in Moldova infrastructure construction enterprise…
Which would be later followed by a small article:
‘The peculator found dead from drug overdose’
This meant, I knew that he either would stab my heart, or shoot me in the head.
It doesn’t make any sense!
For the past 13 years. I’ve served him like a dog.
I can’t believe this!
I thought I would get promoted. I thought I could be a butler.
But it seemed as if I would end up being a servant.
I hate this shitty world where servants will be servants to death no matter how hard you try you will never be a butler.
I unpacked in my hotel room while he was glaring at me.
“Sleep tight.” he said.
I had not slept a wink on the flight, envisioning a future where I’d be a butler.
I couldn’t sleep in bed either, being seized by fear that far from becoming a butler, this servant life would be over soon.
After tossing and turning for a couple of hours, I rolled out of bed.
It was in the dead of night, so I guessed he fell asleep.
I shoved my purse and passport into my trouser pocket, and opened the door. Then I sneaked toward the lift.
“Where are you going?” a familiar voice came from behind.
“Oh, going to the bar for a drink. Jet lagged,” I said, turning my face to him.
“Okay. Let me keep you company,”
“No, it’s fine. Just one drink and then I’ll go to bed,” I said calmly and then turned around.
“Hey, you know that you are going to die tomorrow, don’t you?” he said, curving his mouth.
My heart began to race.
“Don’t you dare to run away. Go back to your room now. Get massages and go the fuck to sleep,” he said.
“Why don’t we have a talk about it?”
“About what? Suggesting that we split the money up?” he said as if he had peeped into my mind.
“No. you get the money. All the money,” I said.
“Ha. that is exactly what he said.”
“What do you mean?”
“The old man said you would be saying it,”
What? The old man? Not vice-chairman, but chairman?
I was the one who had cleaned up his mess. Whenever he got a woman pregnant, I would accompany her to each doctor's visit.
“What did I do? I didn’t steal the old man’s money. Why do I have to die?” I shouted.
“Don’t shout! What am I supposed to do? I’m just doing my job,”
“I need to talk to the old man, please?”
“No, you need not,”
“Then, you talk to the old man. Tell him I will disappear and never show up again, “
“Shut up, damn it,” he went on, “think of your parents,”
That plunged a dagger in my heart. I flopped down on the ground, in front of the lift.
The old man had a firm grasp of my personal life. He knew that my marriage was not working and that I had no children. He knew how much my parents meant to me and that I would not trade them for anything. He was holding my parents hostage.
If I didn’t die, my parents would die.
Car accident. Or something more terrible.
It seemed I had no choice.
Next day, he and I walked into a bank.
I tried to set my face toward CCTV while transferring the money.
“Don’t worry about your family. They will be all right. The old man will compensate your family.” he said.
I knew that the old man would take everything away from my family, bringing them to account for the embezzlement.
He drew me to a secluded place. The sea was visible in the distance.
After gazing at the sea for a time, I turned around and saw that a gun in his hand was aimed right at me. The gun awoke my instinct for survival.
I went down on my knees and clung to his leg.
“Spare me please!” I begged.
“Did you watch the film ’Wanted’?
“I will never appear again as if dead,”
He ignored me.
“In that film, Angelina jolie says ‘I’m sorry.’ whenever she kills someone,” he went on.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, damn!”
“I always wanted to say it too,”
And he pointed his gun at my head.
I had never imagined the last word I heard before I died would be…