2025-12-24 20:14:32Clinton and his father stepped into Mr. Desmond’s sleek, glass-walled office with confident strides, their shoulders squared, their chins raised. The room itself screamed wealth—polished marble floors, minimalist furniture crafted from rare wood, and a panoramic view of the city stretching endlessly beyond the windows.
This meeting was supposed to be simple.
Routine.
A discussion about business.
One that would elevate the Voss family from a respectable half-a-billion-dollar net worth to crossing the sacred billion-dollar threshold.
Clinton glanced at his father and smiled.
His father smiled back.
They both understood what this opportunity meant.
To Clinton, it meant everything.
More money meant more dominance on campus. More influence. More fear. He would officially become the richest student in school. Professors would tolerate him more. Students would worship him. Girls—every single one of them—would line up, desperate to be seen on his arm. Anyone who once mocked or ignored him would suddenly want to be his “friend.”
To his father, the benefits were even sweeter.
More lavish vacations with his wife—and his mistresses. Louder parties. Bigger deals. The ability to look down on former friends who once believed they were richer than him. He would challenge those who disrespected him, crush rivals with ease, and expand his empire without restraint.
And the best part?
Mr. Desmond.
An old-time friend of the Voss family.
When Desmond had been promoted to a senior executive position at Hale Empire headquarters, the first people he thought of were the Vosses. After all, helping them meant helping himself—he had stakes in their empire too.
Seeing Clinton and his father seated comfortably in front of him, Desmond felt pleased.
“Gentlemen,” he began warmly, standing to greet them. “It’s been far too—”
The door swung open.
Click.
The sound cut through the room like a blade.
Lizzy Gold walked in.
Her heels struck the polished floor with sharp, deliberate clicks, each step echoing authority. Her presence alone made the air feel heavier. Clinton and his father instinctively lowered their heads, bowing slightly in what they believed was appropriate respect.
But Lizzy didn’t even look at them.
Her gaze swept across the room like a cold storm.
“How dare you,” she said flatly, her voice cutting through the space, “come into this office and show such blatant disrespect to the owner of this company.”
The words slammed into the room.
Clinton’s father stiffened, his confidence cracking.
“Excuse me?” he asked, flustered but still trying to maintain composure. “We would never do such a thing. We hold Hale Empire in the highest regard.”
Clinton nodded quickly. “Yes, we’re here on Mr. Desmond’s invitation. We would never—”
Lizzy cut him off with a flick of her hand.
“Silence.”
Her tone was ice-cold.
“I have seen the way you carry yourselves,” she continued calmly. “Bowing. Pretending. Performing respect while completely failing to honor the true master of this place.”
Confusion flooded Clinton’s face.
His father exchanged a bewildered glance with him.
True master?
Mr. Desmond’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, Lizzy, I—”
“You don’t know, do you?” Lizzy sneered, her gaze sharp. “This isn’t about me. It isn’t about you, Desmond. And it certainly isn’t about your meaningless deal.”
She stepped forward.
“This is about the real owner of this empire.”
The words hung in the air.
“The one you’ve all underestimated.”
Clinton’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
His father’s hands trembled slightly.
Underestimated?
The only person they had an issue with was Kendrick—and that was ridiculous.
There was no way.
No way that pathetic errand boy had anything to do with this.
Lizzy’s patience snapped.
“Enough of this.”
She raised her hand sharply.
“Security.”
The guards stepped in immediately.
“Take them out,” she commanded. “Now.”
Clinton’s father panicked.
“Wait! Wait!” he shouted, hands raised. “This is a misunderstanding! Desmond, say something!”
Clinton scrambled backward. “You can’t do this! We’re guests!”
But it was already too late.
The guards seized them without hesitation.
They were dragged toward the door, stumbling, humiliated, voices breaking as they begged. Papers fell. Chairs scraped. Their dignity shattered with every step.
Mr. Desmond stood frozen.
Helpless.
The man who thought he was untouchable had just witnessed something terrifying.
The first public display of Kendrick Hale’s hidden power.
…
Later that day, Kendrick decided it was time to change a few things.
He needed clothes.
And gifts.
For Zara and Jayson—his only real friends.
He rode quietly into the city and stepped into La Lumière, one of the most high-end boutiques in the entire district. The kind of place where silk suits cost more than most people’s annual salaries.
Soft classical music floated through the air. The floors gleamed like mirrors.
Kendrick walked in wearing his tattered hoodie and worn sneakers.
Judgment followed instantly.
A young salesgirl leaned toward her colleague and whispered—loud enough for him to hear.
“Who let him in? He looks like he’s about to steal something. There’s no way he can afford anything here.”
Kendrick pretended not to hear.
He approached the counter calmly.
“I need help finding something,” he said politely. “Could you assist me?”
The salesgirl raised an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe.
“Uh… sure,” she replied slowly. “Sir.”
The doubt in her voice was obvious.
As Kendrick browsed, asking about bags and accessories for Zara, the boutique door opened again.
Bryan walked in.
Beside him was Melissa.
Their eyes locked onto Kendrick instantly.
“Well, well,” Bryan sneered loudly. “Look who it is.”
He laughed. “I thought you were just some poor kid. What are you doing here? Planning to steal something?”
Melissa smirked, crossing her arms.
“Or maybe he finally realized he can’t afford anything fancy and decided to apply as a sales representative,” she mocked. “Look at him.”
Laughter rippled softly through the store.
Kendrick didn’t respond.
He calmly asked the salesgirl for a befitting bag for his friend.
Then he reached into his pocket.
And pulled out the black card.
The salesgirl froze.
She leaned toward her colleague, whispering urgently.
“I… I don’t think this is real. That card—I mean…”
Bryan burst into loud laughter.
“See?” he shouted. “Told you! No way he can buy anything here!”
Kendrick gently placed the card on the counter.
“Please,” he said calmly. “Confirm its validity.”
The salesgirl swallowed.
She swiped the card.
Typed.
Checked again.
Her face drained of color.
“This… this can’t be right,” she stammered. “Where did you steal this from? It—it can’t be yours.”
She hurriedly called for the manager.
The manager arrived quickly—a sharp-eyed woman with an authoritative presence.
She took the card.
Checked once.
Twice.
Her expression shifted instantly.
She bowed slightly.
“Sir,” she said respectfully. “I sincerely apologize for doubting you. The card is valid.”
The entire boutique froze.
“I also apologize for the treatment you received from my staff,” the manager continued.
The salesgirl stood motionless, mortified.
The contrast between Kendrick’s calm demeanor and his worn clothes only amplified the shock.
The manager turned sharply toward Bryan and Melissa.
“Mocking a high-valued customer is unacceptable,” she said coldly. “You are no longer allowed in this boutique.”
Bryan scoffed. “You can’t be serious—”
Slap.
The sound echoed sharply.
“Out,” the manager snapped. “Now.”
Security guards moved instantly.
Bryan and Melissa were dragged toward the exit, faces burning with humiliation.
They couldn’t believe it.
They had just been slapped.
Because of Kendrick.
The salesgirls rushed forward, bowing repeatedly, stammering apologies, begging for forgiveness.
Kendrick finished his shopping calmly.
A Birkin bag for Zara.
A Rolex wristwatch for Jayson.
And a few casual outfits for himself.
He walked out of La Lumière like a king—
Still in tattered clothes.
Behind him, Bryan and Melissa stood broken, humiliated, and powerless.
For the first time…
The world had begun to turn.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
chapter 94
There were missed safety checks, rushed audits, quiet complaints buried in files and Kendrick watched everything. From afar, he studied reports, spoke quietly with former employees, and listened more than he talked. He sat in small rooms, away from cameras, reading financial statements line by line. He noted which contracts Bernard rewrote. Which safeguards vanished. Which names appeared again and again in places they shouldn’t.Zara found him one evening, surrounded by papers. “You could stop this,” she said softly. “One word from you and the board would hesitate.”“That’s exactly why I won’t,” Kendrick replied.She frowned. “You’re letting him destroy what you built.”“No,” he said calmly. “I’m letting him show everyone how he really runs it. He's going to destroy it himself. I don't have to do anything”While Bernard ruled unchecked, Kendrick learned. He learned who stayed silent out of fear and who stayed loyal out of belief. He learned which investors asked questions and which on
chapter 93
The second family lived across town. A cramped apartment above a shop that smelled of oil and dust. A teenage boy answered the door this time, eyes red, jaw clenched.“My father died because of you,” the boy said flatly.Kendrick nodded. “I know and I'm here with folded hands just to apologize.”The boy’s fists curled. For a second, Kendrick thought he might be hit. He didn’t step back.“You don’t know anything,” the boy said. “You get to walk around. My dad doesn’t.”“I know,” Kendrick said again. And this time, his voice cracked.The boy’s anger wavered, confused by the lack of defense, the lack of excuses. He called his mother. She came out wiping her hands on her clothes, her face tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.They didn’t invite him in. They didn’t offer a chair.They talked, mostly, they accused him of killing a lot of innocent people and that because of him, they won't get back their happy family. Kendrick listened. He didn’t interrupt when the woman cried o
chapter 92
Kendrick sat in the corner of Adrian's house, staring out the tall windows at the city below. The sun was bright, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t answer calls, didn’t return messages, and certainly didn’t give interviews. Not a word to the press. Not a hint of defense.The world assumed he was defeated. The tabloids ran stories about a broken empire, a fallen man. Stock prices wavered. Investors whispered.Bernard Hale, in his penthouse high above the river, leaned back in his leather chair, a smirk spreading across his face.“Look at him,” Bernard said, swirling his brandy. “Since he came back, he's been silent, and broken. Prison really did its work.”Cherry, standing nearby, smiled happily, “then let's celebrate?”Bernard shrugged. “He’s done nothing. That’s what makes it delicious. He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t explain. The more he stays quiet, the more people think he’s powerless just as I've made him become.”Meanwhile, Kendrick moved through Adrian's estate with slow, measured
chapter 91
Bernard heard about the accident before the evening news did. The call came while he was in his study, the room lit only by a desk lamp and the blue glow of a city that never quite slept. He was reviewing documents, routine, harmless-looking papers that meant very dangerous things when his secure phone vibrated once.He answered without greeting.“Yes.”A pause. Then, carefully choose words.“There was an incident,” the voice said. “But the target survived.”Bernard leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He did not look angry. He did not even look disappointed.“Survived,” he repeated. “Define survived.”“Hospitalized. Injuries, but not fatal.”Bernard exhaled slowly through his nose, almost amused.“So,” he said, “he made it out of prison… and straight into a hospital bed.”“Yes.”Another pause, then Bernard smiled.“That will do,” he said. “For now.”The call ended. Bernard stood and walked toward the wide glass windows overlooking the city. Somewhere out ther
chapter 90
He refused to let this place take anything more from him, not even dignity.The gate buzzed. Metal scraped against metal. Then, for the first time in half a year, the doors opened outward instead of closing behind him.He stepped outside. The sunlight hit him so suddenly he stopped walking. It wasn’t just bright, it was alive, warm, and he loved the feel of it on his face. He squinted, lifting his hand as if touching the light might make it vanish. For a moment, he simply stood there, breathing, letting the sun rest on his face like a quiet Apology.“I forgot,” he murmured to himself. “This is what it feels like.”The sun in prison had always been filtered through bars, through wire, through schedules and permission. This was different. This sun belonged to no one.“Kendrick.” He turned.Zara stood a few steps away, leaning against a dark sedan. Her hair was pulled back, her face thinner than he remembered, but her eyes, those hadn’t changed. They softened the moment they met him.F
chapter 89
Prison learned Kendrick’s name quickly. Not from the guards but from the bruises he usually gets. The fourth month was worse than the first.It began in the laundry room. The machines roared, drowning out sound. Steam fogged the air. Kendrick was folding a stack of uniforms when a shadow fell across him.“You walk like you still own everything right? You think you're still in your mansion, don't you?,” a man said.Kendrick didn’t look up. “I don’t own anything here. I'm just here to just serve my time”The man laughed, mimicking Kendrick. “That’s what they all say.”Hands shoved Kendrick forward. His face slammed into a metal table. Pain exploded across his nose. Someone twisted his arm behind his back.“Say it,” another voice hissed. “Say you deserved it.”Kendrick’s breath came sharp. Blood dripped onto the floor.“I didn’t kill anyone,” he said.The grip tightened, bones creaked. Then the door burst open. Guards stormed in. Batons cracked the air. The attackers scattered like rats.
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