One director, his tone measured, spoke. “Mr. Scott,” he began, turning to Eric. “What is this about? Are you unwell?”
The question opened the floodgates, and others quickly joined in, their voices overlapping in a chorus of doubt.
“What does ‘gravely ill’ mean, exactly?”
“Mr. Scott, can you shed some light on this?”
“As the head of Scott Group, your health isn’t just your own business, it affects us all.”
“Clear the air, please!”
The tension in the room thickened, crackling like a storm about to break.
“Humph!” Gifford, puffing out his chest, smirked with smug satisfaction. “Well, Eric? Ready to come clean?”
“Utter nonsense!” Eric shot back, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. “Gifford, you need to leave. Stop spinning tales and stirring panic!”
“Me? Spinning tales?” Gifford’s eyes gleamed, his excitement only growing at Eric’s defiance.
“Ha!” He let out a sharp laugh, his stare boring into Eric. “Do you think I would be bold enough to call you out without proof?”
Did he really have something concrete?
Eric’s brow furrowed, a flicker of doubt creeping in. It couldn’t be possible. His treatment had been shrouded in secrecy, his medical records locked tight. There was no way Gifford could have breached that fortress.
“Bianca!” Gifford called, his voice commanding.
“On it!” Bianca sprang to her feet, her movements brisk and purposeful.
“Show them!” Gifford ordered.
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“Yes!” With a nod, Bianca pulled a USB drive from her pocket and strode toward the presentation desk.
As she brushed past Eric, she shot him a venomous glance. “You’re done, Eric.”
She plugged the USB drive into the laptop. “Everyone, feast your eyes!”
All heads turned to the large screen at the front of the room, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.
Before long, the photos began to appear. At the center of them all was Eric.
There were pictures of him dressed in hospital garments, captured mid-examination…
Images of him at Olisvale Bay, discreetly retrieving pills from his pocket…
And even close-ups of the medication’s instruction leaflet he had been carrying.
Eric’s eyes widened, a chill racing down his spine, his head pounding with disbelief. How had Gifford gotten these? His security detail was airtight. Gifford’s men couldn’t have gotten close enough to snap these shots.
“Mr. Scott!” Realization dawned on Phillips, and a sinking feeling followed. “This won’t end well,” he thought.
“Ha!” Bianca’s triumphant laugh rang out as she addressed the room. “See it now, everyone? Eric is seriously ill!”
“Eric!” Gifford, smirking, turned to him. “I’ll admit, these are just snapshots, circumstantial at best. So, care to explain—not to me,” he shook his head, “but to them. The board deserves answers. What were you doing in that hospital? What are those pills?”
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