19.Failed and Defeated

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*Trigger Warning

Vyom's povEveryone in the conference room raised as I rose from my chair, their faces a clear mirror of pride, admiration and hint of envy

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Vyom's pov
Everyone in the conference room raised as I rose from my chair, their faces a clear mirror of pride, admiration and hint of envy.

Success that's the word they associate me with. From calling me foolish for stepping down from the old money legacy my father had served for me, to finally appreciating the blood and sweat I poured, their look of disdain altered with bright reverence, so much that they seek for a chance to flatter me.

"Congratulations, Mr. Somani. When everyone thought the minister's hit and run case would go to the cold box, you gave him the taste of the unexpected."

I barely managed a nod, "It wasn't me but my team's hard work."

My mood was dampened to the extent that I couldn't bring myself to indulge Mr. Mittal's usual wheedling.

Smile faltering, Mr. Mittal's awkward gaze swept back and forth from my indecisive demeanour to Ms. Ahmad. The hand he still had extended in my direction unsurely began to lower, so Ms. Ahmad stepped in, returning the gesture with firmness, a polite smile glued on her face.

"We appreciate your words, Mr Mittal." Ms. Ahmad stepped in again on my behalf.

Waving a hand, Mr. Mittal chuckled, now chipped off of the previous awkwardness, "Only you could choose the cases that are filed insignificant and bring it to justice." His gaze was now back on me.

Words halted, a look of being taken aback crystal clear on his face when I scoffed, spontaneously loud that reached others hearing range.

Justice. The word itself is a figment, hollow and fickle, wrapped in fraudulent beauty of tapestry, disguising it's just ugly shreds pieced together.

I was doing an awful job to maintain the impassiveness, but the weight on my chest was too heavy for me to ponder about something else.

"Please, let me escort you to the elevator, Mr. Mittal."

Mr. Mittal waited no extra second, gesturing Ms. Ahmad to lead the way, trying his best to mask the uneasiness behind the polite words for farewell.

Ms. Ahmad's steps paused as she was about to walk by me, her head bowing with courtesy, voice dropping with the intention of just being heard by the two of us, "Boss, please stay back."

And then she stepped out of the meeting room with Mr. Mittal quickly following her trail.

I wasn't in the right state of mind to yield to Ms. Ahmad's words. Not waiting for her to return, I grabbed my car keys from the large meeting table, marching out from the glass door.

Stepping inside the elevator, my fingers pressed for the underground parking lot. My mind was reeling such that every intruding presence or approach in my vicinity was disregarded. I didn't wait for anyone to step out, and they themselves stepped aside when my glutting presence exempted the elevator with firm and paced strides.

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