He turned the page, read a handwritten note at the bottom, and recognized the handwriting perfectly. It wasn’t his; it was from the time of Gaius. Augustus slowly looked up. “You said this was old stuff, didn’t you?” he asked, still clutching the paper.
Caio cleared his throat. Yes, that’s right. Normal procedures, technical aspects. No need to bother with that. How curious, the old man interrupted, because it says here that I authorized a budget cut for a project I created myself, a project that bears my name.
And there’s more. He says I agreed to fire half the team, including people who have been with this company since it fit in a rented room. He picked up another piece of paper.
This was underlined and here is a report that says the founder is no longer able to understand complex decisions, therefore, he should simply sign where indicated.
Raby couldn’t read very well, but he understood “founder” and “incapable.” He looked at the old man, saw something familiar in his eyes, the feeling of being treated as inferior, different, yet equal. Kayo tried to smile.
Augusto, you know how legal terminology works. The way they talk is just a way of calling me a foolish old man in writing, Augusto concluded without raising his voice and using my name to do as they please, placed the paper on the table and took a deep breath.
“You know what shocks me the most, Callo?” he continued. “It’s not even what’s here. It’s where it ended up, in the trash, at the bottom, whole, with your handwriting, in the hands of a kid who doesn’t even have a roof over his head, but who knows more about what’s right than many of the suited people up here.”
Kayo felt the blow, clenched her jaw. “You’re going to listen to a kid who spends his time rummaging through the trash,” she spat, losing her composure. That could have been replaced. It could have been.
Augusto tapped the ground with the tip of his cane. The sound echoed. It’s coming. The old man looked at Rabi again. Tell me clearly, son. How did you find this? Rabi swallowed. He salivated with difficulty.
I was collecting cans back there, sir. I always go there. Then I saw a torn bag with some good papers still inside. It was folded. I saw the company logo in the corner and remembered my mother saying that things with other people’s names on them should be returned, not kept.
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