Ascension Of The Almighty General

CHAPTER 8

Scott stood unmoving, watching as the uniformed men disappeared beyond the gate, not a single one daring to look back. Their retreat wasn’t casual, it was deliberate and filled with fear.

“We really made a mistake coming here,” one of the soldiers said as they disappeared into the distance. The same men Gale had summoned with over confidence were now scattering like leaves in the wind.

“Something is not right here. What just happened?” Laura murmured into Gale’s ears, but Gale himself was too shocked to say a word.

Scott slowly turned back to face Laura and Gale.

Their faces were stunned—just for a second. Just long enough to show they’d noticed something they couldn’t explain. But their pride was powerful enough to mask it almost immediately.

Gale blinked and forced a crooked, dry laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Heh… Typical. Soldiers these days—soft as butter. They Probably thought you’d cry if they raised their voice, that was why they had pity on you.”

Laura, quick to regain her haughtiness, flipped her hair and stepped forward with a smirk stretched too wide. “Or maybe,” she said, her eyes scanning Scott’s appearance with a mocking sympathy, “they just saw how pitiful you looked. Probably thought, ‘Why bother?’ Poor ex-con, standing out here like a stray dog.”

She gave a fake pout and reached forward to brush a hand over his shoulder. “Your shirt’s a mess. Wrinkled, sweaty… You don’t even look like someone who belongs in this zip code. Definitely not in this house.”

Scott said nothing. He looked at her, his hands clenching beside him as the rage kept building.

Gale snorted. “Honestly, I’ve seen people on the street corner who dress better than this.”

He turned to Laura with a dark grin. “What do you think, babe? Should we dig through a thrift store and find him something to wear to our wedding?”

Laura giggled, leaning against him and threading her fingers through his. “Sure! Let him mop the floor at the reception while he’s at it. Maybe then he’ll feel useful again.”

Scott’s jaw clenched. His fists stayed by his side, but the vein in his neck were stretched out.

“Speaking of weddings…” Gale raised his chin, clearly enjoying the torture. “It’s going to be the biggest event this city has seen. Exclusive, lavish, unforgettable.”

He paused, watching Scott closely, hunting for a reaction.

“Thanks to your little gift,” Gale added with mockingly with a cold voice. “That property you gave Laura—what was the name again?”

“ScottSpace Ltd,” Laura cut in with a sweet voice. “The one you used to say would stay in the family forever.”

Gale laughed. “Yeah, that one. We Sold it off an hour ago for One million dollars. That’s what’s funding our wedding. So… thank you, really.”

Scott’s breath didn’t hitch. He didn’t gasp in surprise, he found out they sold it right from at the auction. But something behind his eyes shifted. Rage, cold and deep, moved up in his chest.

Laura stepped closer and sighed. “And don’t flatter yourself thinking Gale needs your money. He’s already rich. But spending your hard-earned cash? The money you never even got to enjoy? That’s… oh, it’s delicious.”

Gale kissed her cheek with exaggerated affection. “There’s nothing quite like watching a man’s life fall apart, then using the broken pieces to build something better. That’s real power.”

Scott flexed his fingers, his knuckles popping softly. Still, he said nothing.

Gale chuckled darkly. “Easy there, prison boy. Don’t do something stupid. You clearly don’t know who I am.”

Before Scott could respond, Laura lit up, her excitement almost childlike. “Tell him, babe! Go on, tell him who you really are.”

Gale’s smile grew cold as he was about to introduce himself. “You’re looking at the nephew of the President of this country. That’s right. I am the president’s nephew. One wrong move, and I can make a call that sends you back to prison faster than you can blink.”

Laura smiled, full of pride. She couldn’t be more proud of the man she was about to get married to. “The President adores Gale. He’s hosting us for a private dinner at the Executive House tomorrow. Can you even imagine that?.”

Gale nodded confidently. “And two days from now, the President himself will be at our wedding.” He took a step forward. “But you, you won’t even get past security.”

He dropped his voice to a near-whisper. “That’s the kind of power you’re up against.”

Laura’s smile sharpened. “All it takes is one word from Gale, and you’ll be back behind bars, watching our wedding on a dusty prison television.”

All of a sudden, something shifted. Scott met Gale’s gaze.

Scott’s face didn’t change much. But a small smile formed at the corner of his mouth—just a tiny one. It was barely noticeable, but it was enough to make Laura’s eyes fill with doubt for a moment.

 “I wouldn’t be so sure about that dinner,” Scott said softly.

Gale blinked. “What?”

Scott took a single step forward. His voice remained calm.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “the President won’t be hosting you. He’ll be hosting me.”

There was silence for several seconds after Scott’s words, then the next moment, Gale exploded with laughter.

Laura joined in, clutching her stomach. “Oh my god, you’re hilarious! You think the President would ever sit down with a man like you?”

“Please,” Gale choked between laughs. “You’re a convict in borrowed clothes. A national embarrassment.”

“You should’ve stayed locked up,” Laura spat. “At least in prison, no one had to watch you pretend to still matter.”

Scott didn’t flinch. He simply looked at them—like one might look at a pair of ants scrambling aroud.

Then suddenly, he turned slowly, heading for the gates…

“Where are you going now?” Laura called. “Back to your cell?”

Scott paused, just a few feet from the edge of the property. He turned back, meeting their gaze once more.

“The President won’t let you share the table with me,” he said with a low tone, “at the so-called dinner meant for you.”

Gale stepped forward with a mocking voice. “How about we make a bet, then? You—who won’t even get past the gate of the Executive House—versus me, a man connected to the most powerful seat in the nation. A nonentity versus royalty.”