2025-06-26 08:06:49
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Cub, now lion
******Mrs. Smith's eyes spun dangerously to the back.Who had the balls, the temerity and audacity to hold her back?Standing behind her was no one other than Blake who looked calm like a poison cloaked in silk.The glare in his eyes was cold and sharp, piercing the room sharper than his suffocating presence.It was usual, more like a rite; That everyone hates the live-in son-in-law of the Walter family and the twisted disgusting looks on their face says it better but something has shifted...He looks really different—And beneath their detest laced a shocking expression...Like how the hell..Bathed in the Crisp black suit that fitted him like a prize he won was Blake. The sleeve of the suit was ironed to sharpness, shooting out beneath the suit. The golden cuffs caught the light like a medal, catching all attention like the room now belongs to him and the smell..Damn! It was different.The expensive perfume effusing from his body. It was sharp and more dangerous than his new found a
An alliance
Pa. Walter's voice cut like a blade, grating down the silence.Jemina startled. Her heart dropped like a boulder into an abyss. She blinked. Not tears. Not yet. But out of the sheer disbelief and shock of seeing her grandfather enraged to that stupefying degree.She had never experienced such anger from him before. Not even when his day is going sour and neither when someone pisses him.Pa. Walter's eyes darkened, storm waging within.Jemina swallowed, her finger clutched under the table, shaking.Mrs. Smith didn't take a slight glance at her daughter. She masked her surprise beneath a knowing expression. She already knew what this is all about and she'll be disappointed in her daughter if she embarrasses her in the face of the family.Pa. Walter continued, his gaze hard like gravel. “You are failing Jemina. You're proving to be incompetent and you're only depending on past admirations and achievements .” He said colly but it cuts deeper like sharp ice, stinging like venom.Jemina b
When the king calls
The frequency of her voice was unsteady, rippling—rising and falling like a wave as she fired her daughter every shot. Every insult, every letter from her words scarred her heart like a razor.Jemina drank in everything but it boiled inside her— Too hot to be digested. It poured out from her eyes as hot tears.Mrs. Smith continued, her words hurting deeper than the last.“—I told you Jemina. He is a wrecker, not a husband. You need to drop that deadweight! Don't you just get it?! He's stagnant and he's a pollutant. Such a man doesn't even deserve to breathe in the same air as y—”“Mum!” Remina cut in between sobs. Voice low and tremblingBut Mrs. Smith didn't stop. She waved her off sharply.“No Remina! You're dropping that man..” Mr. Smith shook her head, exhausted and tired that her daughter wasn't seeing how wretched Blake is.She fired on, her voice low now but it seared deeper. “Look at the rich men in the city seeking vying for your attention. Those are the men. Real men...Ex
Shattered Egos
Juliana lost her voice. This man, he thought he was a zero, a nobody and even, a nomadic beggar who strayed into Vellore Tailors but that same man was about handling her bill like it was nothing. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he isn't a zero but a hundred. Two hundred even— significant.Her lips parted to speak but just air—low gasps. Her his lips pressed together, mind reeling with different thoughts.Again, she opened her lips and finally her words came but it didn't flow. It was cracking under the weight of the sheer surprise and..maybe guilt.Guilt of looking down on Blake earlier like he's a mere trash who should be in the Incer.“You.. you're going to pay?” Her voice cracked like an old wall, laced with disbelief and surprise.Blake smiled and nodded gently. “I'll handle it.” He simply said and his focus deviated to his phone."The tally is $10,000, sir.” The cashier said calmly, the Reverence in her voice was unmistakable.Though she didn't look down on Blake. She doesn't. Anybod
Gruesome Irony
Time paused. Blake moved like a storm in the midst of a disturbing hurricane.He didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Not even pivoting to look at the shocking faces that look like they had seen the worst nightmare of their life yet they stood there, waiting for the disaster to strike.Gasps rippled in the air like gas blowing up from an overcompressed container.“Is he going crazy?!" “The platinum wears?!"“What a fatal joke. He'll be dragged to shame.”The comment buzzed yet Blake didn't stop. Not yet.Then he stopped at the spot where the platinum wears were displayed in a fancy show glass.Each cut was hung with precision and eloquence on the custom rack, screaming wealth and power. The suits were crisp, ironed to glass–shiny, eye-catching and breathtaking.The perfect style that suits powerful men and awakens undying attention in colossal events.Blake didn't linger too long. He already had his eyes on a piece.“I want this.” He simply pointed his finger, squarely at the suit he admir
Flipping the Table
Vallero Tailors.It is not just a name. It's a name, cloaked in luxury. Refinement and specialty.Only business magnates, powerful figures that could rattle the fabrics of the society with a flick of their fingers sort out clothings from the industry.The glossy sun of the day bounced off the towering glass facade, blinding. At the top entrance emblazoned the name in bold black; Vallero Tailors.At the nearby parking lot lined sleeks of cars, a far cry from the beat– car Blake once owned. It wasn't a car. It was faults, problems and trouble cloaked in old metal.Blake wants to erase his ugly past and with an iron pen, carve his name on a golden plate. He wants to change the game. The table must flip. Not just flip— Flip to the golden side.In his ordinary cloth— a frayed jacket, stained with grease from years of hard work in the Walton's family while a black jean trousers which had long gone out of fashion, ripped in the knee and faded, almost turning white hung on his waist.As he st
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