Chapter 11
Author: Snowpinch
last update2025-07-28 05:59:34
“Why are you holding a knife?” Benton asked, his voice steady despite the unease crawling up his spine.

The elevator hummed softly as it descended. Old Charles stood closer than before, the confined space amplifying every movement. Benton’s heart pounded. No witnesses. No escape. Just steel walls and a blade glinting beneath fluorescent light.

For a split second, Benton genuinely thought this was it.

Then Charles reached into his suit pocket and withdrew a small, transparent polythene bag.

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  • Chapter 27

    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

  • Chapter 26

    Chapter 26Charismatic Shoemaker Lloyd“What are you talking about?” Clarissa demanded, her composure finally cracking. “Say it clearly.”The room felt smaller all at once. The air thickened, heavy with unspoken things that had been buried for decades and were now clawing their way to the surface.Alice Harold met Clarissa’s gaze without hesitation.“You are not Harold’s daughter.”The words were spoken softly. Precisely. Almost gently.They did not need cruelty.They did not need volume.They landed anyway.Clarissa blinked once. Then again.A sharp laugh escaped her. “That’s not funny.”No one laughed with her.Her smile faltered.She turned slowly toward Harold, her voice rising. “Tell her to stop.”Harold closed his eyes for a brief moment, as though bracing himself against an inevitable impact.“You were never meant to find out like this,” he said quietly.Clarissa stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Find out what?”Her hands shook now. Openly. Uncontrol

  • Chapter 25

    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 24

    Chapter 24 Charismatic Shoemaker Lloyd The ballroom shimmered beneath golden chandeliers. Music flowed. Laughter rang out. Champagne glittered in crystal glasses. But none of it was meant for Benton and Clarissa. It was theater. And they were the punchline. Benton stood beside her, posture relaxed, his presence calm to the point of provocation. Clarissa, radiant in silk and diamonds, felt every whisper slice beneath her skin. “Clarissa, darling,” a woman cooed sweetly, her necklace flashing under the light. “Such courage. Not many women would lower their standards so… bravely.” Soft laughter rippled behind raised glasses. A man in a silver suit leaned toward his companion, his voice carefully loud. “Harold’s daughter marrying a shoemaker? I suppose he’ll polish our shoes after the reception.” The table erupted. Another guest swirled his wine lazily. “I heard he rides a scooter. A scooter.” He laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. Clarissa’s fingers tightened around

  • Chapter 23

    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 22

    Chapter 22 Charismatic Shoemaker Lloyd Benton barely heard the rest of Harold’s words. They lingered in the air like smoke—sweet at first, choking once you breathed too deeply. Marry his daughter. Become his in-law. It wasn’t an offer. It was a chain disguised as a handshake. Benton leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. Across the table, Harold’s smile remained fixed, but his eyes moved—measuring, weighing, pricing him like a commodity. Madam Lisa watched him too. A warning? A plea? Even she didn’t seem sure. Part of Benton considered saying yes. Walking straight into Harold’s circle. Learning every weakness from the inside. The other part of him wanted to stand, knock the chair aside, and tell the man exactly where his proposal belonged. But this wasn’t about pride. This was about power. And power had one rule—never show your cards first. Benton let out a quiet chuckle. “A marriage proposal?” he said lightly. “To someone like me?” Old Charles st

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