Alex Seclair: Master of Vengeance

Paths of fate 2

Carlos’s chest warmed at the thought.

“Trust you don’t mind at all, but I have a prompting question?” Dre started after a while.

“And what could that be?” Carlos responded, feeling relaxed.

“How did you become rich all of a sudden?” Carlos’s eyes widened at Dre’s unexpected quiz. The weight of Dre’s quiz almost choking him up while he sips his wine.

“What?” Carlos exclaimed.

“Don’t get me wrong but… I was amazed at the information my store manager gave to me about how much bid you threw at such a fit. No one has ever been able to throw such a bid as high as yours since all my years of experience.”

“Which got me amazed and extremely curious at how you were able to get that rich over the years of our school days. Did you hit some form of jackpot at a Cassino or…”

Dre exclaims after a moment's thought of realisation.

“Perhaps, you could have been discovered as the only child to a rich mogul empire. Like me, is it?” Dre assumed, grinning from ear to ear.

But just as Carlos opened his mouth to reply, a loud crash cut through the gentle hum of the restaurant. Gasps erupted as a tray clattered to the floor.

At the far end, a middle-aged man in a tailored suit stood towering over a boy no older than fifteen. The boy’s trembling hands still clutched a glass of water, half spilled across the floor.

“You call this service?” the man barked. His voice dripped with disdain.

“Do you know who I am?” he demanded.

The boy stammered, “S-sorry, sir. I didn’t mean—”

“Shut your mouth!” The man’s slap landed on the boy’s shoulder, not hard enough to injure but enough to humiliate. The restaurant fell into stunned silence.

Carlos’s fists clenched.

“What the hell…” Dre muttered in his breath

Within moments, Anita and Charles rushed out from the kitchen, with horror on their faces.

“Please, Mr. Herald,” Anita pleaded.

“He’s just a child. Our child. Let us handle it.”

But Clint snorted. Everyone in Coast Wesley knew that name. A ruthless businessman with deep ties to the city’s elite. His influence was heavy, his temper infamous.

“He disrespected me,”

“You think I let things slide because he’s your boy? If you can’t teach him manners, then perhaps humiliation will.” Clint growled.

The boy sobbed softly, clinging to Anita’s arm.

Charles stepped forward with pleading eyes.

“Please, sir. Forgive him. I’ll take responsibility. Just don’t punish my son.”

“Then kneel, both of you!! Show proper respect.” Clint demanded

Anita’s eyes welled. She tugged at her husband’s arm. “Charles…”

Charles’ only aid came from Clint. When he had no one else to run to support him in financing his wife’s new restaurant and clearing his only son’s medical bills while he was at the verge of losing his life.

Now despite Charles' appeal to Clint, he must decide to dance to his humiliating request. Or worse — lose his only chance of help from a man like Clint and spend his entire life refunding every bill he'd ever gained from him.

He nodded heavily like one without a choice. And slowly but painfully, he began lowering himself further.

But just as his knees were about to touch the floor, a firm hand caught his arm.

“Stop.”

The voice was calm, steady, but carried a weight that silenced the room.

Charles turned in shock. Anita gasped and everyone else froze.

Carlos stood tall while his eyes locked on Clint Herald’s, his presence radiating defiance.

“You don’t kneel,” Carlos said, his tone sharp as steel.

“Not to him. Not like this.”

Murmurs swept through the restaurant. No one ever dared defy Clint Herald. But here was a young man—an outsider—placing himself in the line of fire.

Anita’s lips trembled. “Carlos, don’t—”

Clint’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“And who… do you think you are?”

“The question should be who the hell do you think you are, to treat a human in such a despicable way?” Carlos tackled back. His rage had started to build up.

His question to Clint made everyone more stunned at his audacity.

The middle-aged man’s face reddened with fury, a vein visibly throbbing at his temple.

“You dare,” Clint hissed, his voice low but venomous.

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Actually, no. And I couldn’t care less. What I see is a man trying to humiliate another to feed his ego even if it meant hitting a kid.”

A ripple of gasps moved through the crowd. No one spoke to Clint like that. Not in public.

Charles tugged at Carlos’s sleeve, panic in his eyes.

“Sir please! You don’t understand. You’ll get us in trouble!”

“Then tell me. Who exactly is he that you should kneel before him like a slave?” Carlos inquired, glancing at him briefly.

Before Charles could answer, Clint stepped forward, his shoes clicking ominously on the tiled floor. His presence seemed to swallow the space.

“You fool!” Clint cussed, passing a death stare at Charles who didn't know what to do.

“You have survived because of me. I’ve pulled strings to keep your license when it was meant to be revoked. I lent you money when banks wouldn’t give you a cent. And kept your sorry little business afloat when everyone else turned their backs.”

Charles’s head bowed in shame as murmurs rippled through the onlookers.

“And now,” Clint continued, voice rising for the crowd to hear,

“You dare defy me? You owe me everything, including your life, idiot.

“You know, we used to be schoolmates. Once, he was the promising one—bright, ambitious. And look at him now.”

Charles’s heart clenched at the cruel words. His face was pale, his eyes glossy with humiliation.

“Why are you doing this, Clint? Haven’t you done enough? Must you destroy what’s left of our dignity?” Anita cried out, unable to hold back.

Clint’s eyes flicked to her with icy disinterest.

“Dignity? Dignity doesn’t clear debts”

“Enough!” Carlos shunned with rage in his voice.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. His chest burned with fury at every memory of being trampled by men like Clint—those who fed off the helpless and called it power.