I entered the boardroom. The room was large, cool, and dominated by a long oval mahogany table. Around the table sat elderly directors and auditors with decades of experience. I would never have even imagined entering this room before, but today I walked in with my head held high. Mr. Harrison stood to greet me and invited me to sit at the head of the table, the seat that had been empty, my mother’s seat. When I sat down, everyone fell silent, awaiting my instructions. With a calm but firm voice, I began the meeting. I discussed the company’s new vision, fairer employee welfare policies, and the eradication of the corrupt practices that had proliferated under the previous management.
I spoke not just as an heiress, but as someone who understood the values of hard work and honesty that my mother had instilled in me. While I was presiding over a meeting in a cool skyscraper, Mark was living a very different fate. In a squalid, overcrowded corner of the city, in a damp and narrow 10-by-10-foot boarding house room, Mark lay curled up on a thin foam mattress that smelled of mildew. The ceiling of his room leaked, and water from the previous night’s rain dripped onto the already cracked tile floor. There was no air conditioning, only a small, dusty, and noisy fan. Mark was awakened by loud banging on the door.
His heart leaped. It wasn’t a visitor. It was the debt collectors. Since being fired and kicked out, Mark’s life had completely fallen apart. His name was blacklisted in the industry. No company wanted to hire him after the embezzlement and immorality scandal spread. He tried to get a job as a ride share driver, but his account was rejected for having a criminal record under police investigation. His savings were nil. His credit cards were blocked. His friends avoided him like the plague. Even the woman he once adored. Jessica was now a witness for the prosecution, testifying against him to get a reduced sentence. Mark was truly alone.