Mr. Lincoln stared at the box, which had his name written over it in large letters. What in the world was going on? So many people were passing by, walking in, and going out, and a few of them stared at him, as he watched the box. After watching the box for a full minute unable to comprehend why a box with his name written on it would be outside the company, he finally went to it to see what was in it. On getting there, he saw his things. Shoes he had left a long time ago in his office, pens, a pencil sharpener, and documents he worked on in his office. Basically everything that usually occupied spots on his table at the office were inside the box. What was the meaning of it? Why had his things been placed outside? Who had placed them outside? What was going on? He lifted the box of his things, and went over to the security guard, who took away his eyes immediately they locked eyes. "Who put this out here?" Mr. Lincoln asked, pointing to the box. "Some employee." The security guard replied in a deep voice, giving the box a glance. "Since when has it been out here?" "Hours ago." "Hours…" Mr. Lincoln put his hand to his temple, feeling like he would suddenly have a seizure. "What the heck is going on? Why are the CEO's things outside the company disgracefully?" He asked sternly, looking like he might fire the security guard in that instant. "I don't know. They said it was an order." "An order from whom?" "That I don't know." "You drive me nuts." "I know his face, but not his name. He was telling the employee—who dropped the box—something about a meeting." "This is crazy." Mr. Lincoln muttered. "Take me there." He ordered, and the guard walked into the company, and led Mr. Lincoln to the elevator with his black, polished-to-perfection shoes knocking on the floor. They got into the elevator and the man pressed the number of the floor they were going to. It was the floor where meetings with the CEO were held. What meeting were they having without the CEO on seat? He followed the guard diligently, and when the got to the door, the guard knocked, but Mr. Lincoln pushed him aside in frustration. He pushed the door open, wondering why he would have to knock to get into his own meeting room. When he entered, he saw all the board members, and they stared at him as he came in. He could not even begin to read the expressions on their faces. Some looked somewhat guilty, some looked confident, some looked like he had come to destroy the meeting, and didn't have a pleasant feeling about that. Some avoided him straight away, and some cleared their throats. "Why is a meeting going on in this room without the CEO? Don't you all know that when a meeting is held in this room, I must be present? What the heck is going on here!?" He asked, looking at them, then his eye saw that there was actually someone in the executive chair. Charles. His legs were crossed, and he had an elbow on the arm of the chair, with his fingers in front of his face, and his eyes on them. "Normally when a meeting is held, people just don't barge in." He said calmly, lifting his gaze off his fingers to stare at Lincoln, who looked like they all had to be making an expensive joke. "Can anyone actually explain what is going on? Why is he on my chair? Why is he leading the meeting? Why is no one saying a thing!? If I find out this is something foul, which it definitely is, you all will have to hand in your resignation letters or you might receive a sack letter from me!" He bellowed, with his veins popping in his neck, and temples. He looked like he was on the verge of hysteria. Charles chuckled in amusement. "What?" He asked, and laughed. "Actually, and unfortunately, there's only one person getting a sack letter today. Guess who?" He asked, leaning over to rest his elbows on the table, with a light smile, and an amused glint in his eyes, as he stared at his father who looked ready to burst. "Do not play games with me, Charles. I am not here for games. I still have something to warn you about, something to punish you for, but first you will explain this unauthorized, and illegal meeting going on without me!" "Alright. If that's what you want." Charles said, casually, leaning back, and shrugging with his hands. Then he signaled to James, who gave a curt nod, and walked to a shelf. From there, he took out a white envelope, and walked to Mr. Lincoln without a smile. Without a word, he stretched out the envelope. Mr. Lincoln stared at him with a look near to disgust, and snatched the envelope from him. However, he noticed little smiles on the faces of the board members. Satisfied smiles. He looked down at the envelope, and fear gripped him. Something in the envelope would displease him. He knew that. "Scum bags." He spat, and began to work his fingers restlessly on the envelope. Due to his rush, it took a few seconds before he finally decided to rip the envelope, so he could get easier access. Mr. Lincoln, dragged out the letter, and threw the envelope on the ground. And his eyes went as wide as apples. LETTER OF TERMINATION. *Dear Mr Lincoln, We're sorry to inform you that as of now, you’ll be no longer employed with Lincoln Consulting Firm. Reasons are mainly focused on poor performance in the carrying out of your duties. From whatever date you receive this, you won’t be qualified to receive any compensation or benefits associated with your position. Please return your company cell phone, laptop, and swipe card to the HR office. If you have any questions, we'll be at your disposal till the end of the day. We wish you best of luck. Charles Lincoln.* "What?" Mr. Lincoln asked, still staring at the letter with questions burning at the back of his mind. What was the meaning of the silly letter? Some unofficial terms were put there. The date also was not mentioned. Were they pulling his legs? Why in the world would Charles give him, the CEO a letter of termination? Who was he to issue that out, and carelessly like that. The letter wasn't even totally official. Just then, the door opened, and he heard his name being called. "Mr. Lincoln." He turned around, and his letter of termination dropped from his hands.