‘LOOK here Genna I am a hundred and one percent sure that your stupid Dog pooped on my bike last night'.Dante,the flour mill manager and the one and only drunkard of Cleaville ranted on and on.

　　Tall,perfectly paled skinned with shiny bronze colored hair, Genna ignored the angry young man who was out to irritate her.

　　But he wasn't going away without a fight.

　　‘Genna!! You motherf**king—

　　‘Hold that mouth of yours Jeremy!! Look I am not in the mood for your nonsense and the last thing I want is for your chauvinistic father to come here and start ranting okay?? So get out!'.She yelled and grabbed a pickaxe.

　　Luckily he was smart enough to heed the warning and walked got on his very dusty bike which reeked of alcohol and truthfully—Dog poop.

　　‘This isn't over Genna,I'll be back and trust me you and that stupid poodle of yours will pay'.He said with a hint of threat in his deep voice and all she could do was smirk.

　　‘He's a German Shepherd you bimbo'.She hollered as he drove off.

　　Sigh.

　　Cleaville.

　　A small and loving town which was on the brink of dying—Slowly,but still dying all the same.

　　Fathers advise their sons to leave the goddamned place and never return.Mothers teach their daughters to work hard and also get out of the hell hole.

　　But her father never taught her to leave,she thought as she grabbed a bottle of beer and drank in a satisfactory gulp.

　　Cleaville was her home—Is her home.The only home she ever knew and she could never think of going anywhere else.

　　‘Come on boy'.She urged the white skinned with brown patches German Shepherd whose tongue dangled down in excitement.

　　‘We've got work to do'.

　　°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

　　CLAD in a Grey and well tailored suit,Miguel Anderson stared at the mirror.Admiring his defiant looking self,he smirked lightly and adjusted the cufflinks of his shirt.

　　His shiny black and long hair was like that of a wild stallion and with his perfectly tanned skin he could be mistaken for the next Salvatore in the classic soap opera Hidden Passion.

　　‘Your guests are here sir'.Marco,his personal assistant announced from the door and he nodded.

　　‘Is everything set for the meeting??'.

　　‘Yes sir and I would also like to point out th—

　　‘I asked you a question and I demand a straight answer Marco,your opinions aren't needed'.He quickly pointed out and the average looking personal assistant with a crooked red tie nodded.

　　Who wasn't dumb enough to quiver at the sight of Miguel Anderson?.

　　He was a billionaire,an enigma to the society and popolary known as Strange Mogul.With no child,wife or even mistress the media ponders about what kind of a man he is apart from his enigmatic presence at social events.

　　No matter how hard they tried to dig no single piece of information could be found about him.

　　No background story,no police reports,no Intel of affairs with women—Just nothing for he was like a ghost only for the fact that he was living.

　　‘Let's get this meeting started shall we??'..He murttered under his breath as he sat down with the three other business partners who were prepared to launch him under their tables of greed.

　　But he was was more smarter than they were.

　　‘Sir there's someone outside who wants to see you'.Marco interrupted before the meeting could even start.

　　‘What is it?'.Miguel asked with an irritated look on his face.

　　‘It's about your research sir.A McGregor'.Marco replied and Miguel's brow perked up.

　　‘Well gentlemen this meeting is adjourned for another day'.He said and ordered Marco.

　　‘Bring the informant in now'.