Chapter 21 Charismatic Shoemaker Lloyd Benton stacked the last of the files and carried them to the printer. The steady whir of the machine soothed him. Machines did not judge. They did not snicker. They did not measure worth by fabric, polish, or posture. It had not been long since Old Charles had fired the worker who mocked him. The memory replayed uninvited. Charles’s voice cutting through the room. The man’s face draining of color. The silence that followed, thick and unnatural. Benton felt no satisfaction. Only unease. He set the files aside and followed Old Charles into his office, closing the door behind him. “Will I actually learn anything here,” Benton asked evenly, “if you fire everyone who comes at me?” Old Charles turned in his chair. “Young master Benton, I will not tolerate you being bullied at Clairfair.” “That is the problem,” Benton replied quietly. “You are tolerating me instead of letting me exist.” Old Charles stiffened. “Then avoid me,” Benton continued

Chapter 23 Charismatic Shoemaker Lloyd Harold snorted, grabbed his phone from the desk, and stormed out of the boardroom. The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the polished walls like a crack in glass. Old Charles glanced at Benton, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Benton said nothing. He picked up the untouched drink on the table, took a slow sip, then set it down exactly where it had been. Then he left. He did not look back at Old Charles. He did not look at Madam Lisa. Some conversations did not need witnesses. By late afternoon, Benton was back on the logistics floor. Laughter followed him like smoke. Cheap suit. Street hire. Old Charles’s pet. He slipped into his corner and worked in silence, fingers moving steadily through invoices and delivery slips. The gossip spread anyway, low and amused, sharp with cruelty. People laughed harder when he did not react. When Benton finally left Clairfair, the sky had bruised into shades of orange and

Chapter 25 Charismatic Shoemaker Lloyd “Benton, you really are something,” Old Charles said quietly, lifting his glass. The pride in his voice was restrained, almost weary. “Harold feels humiliated. Yet the fox still stands.” Benton smirked. The ballroom buzzed around him. Laughter lacquered with cruelty. Whispers sweetened with wine. Eyes tracked his movements, waiting for him to crack. Waiting for proof that he did not belong. He did not give it to them. Clarissa stopped in front of him. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble, each step deliberate. Her amber eyes burned, fury held together by discipline and pride. “I know the Lloyd family hired you to humiliate mine,” she said coldly. “And since this alliance matters to my father, I will endure it.” Benton studied her. Behind the anger was fear. Behind the fear was wounded pride bleeding beneath silk and diamonds. He leaned closer, his fingers brushing her shoulder as if they were alone. “Wife,” he said smoothly, “t

Chapter 27Charismatic Shoemaker LloydThe car slowed as the gates of the Vance estate came into view.Clarissa sat rigid in the passenger seat, her gaze fixed straight ahead. She had not spoken since they left Harold’s house. Not when Benton opened the door for her. Not when the driver asked for directions. Not even when the towering villa emerged from behind rows of ancient trees like a silent judge waiting to pass a sentence.Benton didn’t push.He leaned back, dressed the way he always was when it mattered most. Plain. Casual. Almost careless. No luxury watch. No tailored suit. No effort to impress. To anyone watching, he looked like a man who did not belong anywhere near this place.That was the point.“This is grandfather’s birthday,” Clarissa said finally, her voice clipped. “And we are going for our wedding blessing.”Benton nodded. “I know.”“My grandfather does not like surprises that are not high-end,” she added.Benton smiled faintly. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t bring