The Silver Crescent Alpha Prince

Daryn and Caleb Silver were sitting in a meeting with fifteen Vice Presidents and eight Managing Directors of their various companies in the meeting room on the twenty-ninth floor. Caleb was into managing companies that were located abroad. For that reason, he traveled across the globe almost twenty days of the month. When he was in the country, he usually accompanied his brother. His office was in the same building, but in the North Wing.

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. Daryn was addressing the group. He looked at the door for a moment and then continued to talk to the men.

"Gentlemen, in the new scenario, we will be laying off the jobs of those who are going to get a 'B' grade in performance assessments for two years in a row. I am not going to tolerate any tardiness. You will identify people under you who have received those grades and keep a close watch on them."

Reyna rose from her chair and opened the door.

Reyna was not exactly his secretary but she looked after his office's daily needs. His main secretary was the twenty-eight year old Neal Perry, his cousin. Not only was he Daryn's secretary, he was also his right hand man. People said that he was skilled at Jiu-Jitsu, Taekwondo, and was a skilled swordsman apart from being a graduate from an Ivy League college. He was extremely close to Daryn and there was a rumor that Neal was saved by Daryn in a lethal attack. Since then he had dedicated his life to his cousin.

If the three brothers were made to stand with each other, their striking features were quite similar, except that Neal's hair was disappearing fast.

Neal looked up at the door with a stone hard face. He hated the interruption.

Reyna collected a document from the staff and walked back. She handed it to Neal.

A frown appeared on his broad forehead. His receding hairline came forward a little as his black eyes read the contents of the document. He gave the paper to Daryn who placed it on the table. The meeting got over in the next one hour and the first thing that Daryn did was to see the document.

It was a report about his Company, "The Mink Corporation" that was published in a British Financial Journal. His eyes became cold and hard and the whole persona changed into an intimidating one. His face tightened as he stared at the report. He read it again.

"Who has written this preposterous thing?" he asked in a deep throaty tone. There was no name given, only "–From Anonymous" was printed at the bottom.

"I will have to find that out," replied Neal. "Since this is from a British Journal, obviously this was published in England."

Daryn rolled his eyes at Neal's deduction. "I expect a better statement from you," he replied, grinding his teeth. A muscle quivered in his jaw, "Do you want to go there and find out about it?"

"Yes," came a monotonous and cold reply.

Not looking at him he re-read the report. "This wasn't written recently. This was written a year back. Just look at the data used," he said pointing at the graph and numbers presented on the paper.

"I know," came another crisp reply.

Daryn continued, "Try and find out who wrote this report. Get this erased from the Internet as soon as possible. And if you can't do that, go there. Find the person who has written it. Threaten them to withdraw it. We are on Stage Two of expanding this company. You know that we are planning another rights issue. If this becomes viral, confidence of the shareholders is going to come down."

"We should ignore it," Neal suggested.

Daryn scowled, "This is the first negative report I have seen about 'The Mink Corporation'. I want to know who wrote it." He took in a deep breath as he saw the "From Anonymous" again. "And no, I won't ignore it."

Neal nodded and left.

The small one-page information had planted seeds of doubt about his venture. This irritated him. How could he avoid it? He had to know who had the chutzpah to analyze the company when it had just floated the first batch of shares. Or precisely, who was this analyst? If he got hold of the analyst, he would employ him or her immediately. He read the report again and again until he memorized every number on it. It was an interesting deduction.

---

The Professor of Finance, Dr. McElroy was sitting in his office when Dawn came storming in his room.

She was sitting in the library and reading the latest in the British Finance Journal, when she chanced upon the report she had submitted as her assignment last year. Her eyes widened. She was aghast. This was her work and without even asking her, it was published. Not that she would have minded it, but it didn't give credits to her. How impudent? That was simply not acceptable. The only person who had access to her research was Professor McElroy. Collecting her belongings, Dawn got up from there and charged to his room.

Dr. McElroy was checking someone's doctoral research. The sudden intrusion surprised him. He raised his eyebrows when he looked at Dawn Wyatt. Removing his glasses from the eyes, he said, "What is it you want, Miss Dawn?" he smirked.

"Good afternoon Sir," she said in a high-pitched voice. Her anger and impatience was evident. "I noticed that my research has been published in the British journal. However, my name isn't there. Why have I not been credited for it?"

Professor McElroy poked his tongue in his cheek. He was used to such super ambitious, rude and intelligent kids. He tilted his head and said, "How old are you? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"I will be twenty in two months," she replied, not understanding what he meant.

"Do you think that if I had sent this report in your name, the journal would have accepted it? The editors would have thrown it in the garbage. They have hundreds of aspiring nineteen-year-old students who keep sending them such work. Do you think that they would cater to all of them? This report was published because it carried my name. You should be happy that I even preserved it for so long," the Professor said in a curt voice. He showed her the right place she deserved.

Dawn's mouth dropped at the blatant display of dishonesty and deception. That was her work. She had spent five nights researching for it. How could he simply take her work and claim it as his own? This was stealing in its blatant form like the pirates at the sea. And if he stole it, why didn't he have his name on it? She glared at him and asked, "But this doesn't have your name written. If you wanted it to be claimed as yours, why didn't you publish your name beneath it?"

The Professor put his glasses on and scoffed, "That is none of your concern." He went on to check the papers in front of him. "You may leave. Close the door behind you."

Seeing a dead-end to the talks, Dawn left the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She stood outside sighing heavily as her fists tightened. A pinched, tension-filled expression filled her face. Her stomach roiled. This was not done. She walked out of the block with the conversation replaying in her mind over and over again.

Inside the room, the Professor exhaled. That was a big firm that had been targeted. If this became viral, two things could happen:

One, the firm might come looking for the person who had analyzed it, mainly because there had not been a single person who has said anything negative about it. So he was hoping that it would draw the right attention. Since he had saved the research and even memorized it nicely, he was hoping that the company came to him and asked him how to get out of the situation. And then he would charge hefty money for consultation.

Two, if the company ignored it, then at a later stage he would publish part two of the research paper with his name on it. This would give him all the fame he had dreamt for a long time.

And if Dawn Wyatt tried to mess with his plan, he would simply fail her in the semester. A wide smile spread on his lips. His plan was perfect.