Before Our Dawn| ongoing

fourteen

It wasn't often that he stepped foot on the sixth floor, mainly because he didn't have any business being up here unless he was dropping off reports to Monsieur Arsenault's secretary, but the atmosphere here was more dreadful than he last recalled it to be. The secretary, a petite blonde woman, wouldn't take her eyes off him, and it wasn't in the familiar, doting way she had done it in the past. She looked disdainful, repulsed, even, by the sight of him.

Francis knocked on his father's door, not waiting for a response before he entered, ushering Haadi inside the office. The room was spacious and well-lit with a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the city below. The walls were adorned with tasteful paintings and portraits, and a luxurious Persian rug covered the polished hardwood floor. A massive oak desk dominated the center of the room, complete with a telephone and an inkwell set, and a leather chair behind it. On the opposite side of the room, there were bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes and framed diplomas and certificates hanging on the walls.

Monsieur Arsenault himself lingered by the window, smoking a cigar with a pensive yet sad expression on his aged face.

"Father." Fracis verbalized their presence. Monsieur Arsenault turned his head slightly to left, where his striking blue eyes, identical to Francis' pinned Haadi to his spot.

"Leave us," he stated plainly, and Francis took that as his cue to rush out of his father's office, closing the door softly behind him.

Haadi's palms became clammy as he stood in front of the desk. He couldn't help but feel small in the grandeur of the entire space. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with his hands.

"I'm sure you know why I called you here, Haadi." His nerves only grew as he waited for the man to speak. "This is quite a serious matter."

His first assumption was that he was getting fired.

"If I made any errors in the reports I sent over to you, I can fix them—"

He burst out laughing, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes creasing deeply, before he took a puff from his cigar, the scent of smoke wafting through the office.

"Why are you laughing, sir?" Haadi asked hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.

Monsieur Arsenault took another puff of his cigar before answering, his eyes sparkling with amusement and... disgust. "Do you really think that this is about your performance at work, boy?"

His heart sank as he realized that this was not a conversation about his job performance. He didn't know what to expect, and the uncertainty made him even more nervous.

"What is it about, then, sir?"

He watched as the man strode towards his desk with heavy, deliberate steps, the sound of his shoes echoing loudly in the small office. Monsieur Arsenault sat down on his chair with a loud thud, his posture erect and imposing, like a king sitting on his throne. Haadi felt like a mere peasant in front of him, small and insignificant. When the man's face darkened, Haadi knew that he was in trouble.

He put out his cigar in an ash tray and began, "I have a reputation to uphold – the reputation of my firm, myself, and my employees. Do you understand that, boy?"

"I do, sir."

"You attended Mademoiselle Blanchet's birthday party not too long ago, didn't you?"

"I did, sir."

Monsieur Arsenault leaned back in his chair, his gaze still trained on Haadi. "Let's be clear here, boy. You attended Mademoiselle Blanchet's birthday party, and I have it on good authority that you pursued her despite her polite refusals. You continued to make advances all evening, ignoring her discomfort and her wishes. And then, when you saw an opportunity, you followed her to the lady's room, where you took advantage of her in the most despicable manner possible."