Elijah Schwarzenger Rises To Power

0010

The long dining table gleamed beneath the golden chandelier, exuding a quiet elegance that filled the grand dining hall of the Schwarzenger estate. Elijah sat at one end, with his father seated directly opposite him. Both men were surrounded by soft classical music and silent servants moving in the background like shadows.

For the past four weeks, Elijah had been pampered beyond measure—indulging in breakfast in bed, receiving tailored suits every morning, and enjoying exotic meals prepared by personal chefs. But tonight, it no longer felt right.

He stared at the untouched gold-plated curry steak on his plate, the fork in his hand tapping lightly against the porcelain.

Schwarzenger observed him from the head of the table, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve barely eaten, son. The chef made that especially for you; look at the texture."

To Schwarzenger's surprise, Elijah sighed and dropped his utensils with a soft clink. “Dad... I’m tired of this.”

“You're tired of steak?” Schwarzenger chuckled, sipping from his wine glass.

“No. I’m tired of this life. It’s been four weeks, and all I’ve done is eat, sleep, and wander from one wing of the mansion to another. I can’t keep doing this.”

Schwarzenger leaned back in his chair, clearly intrigued. “You’re the heir of the most powerful family in Futuriux. You could sleep for the rest of your life, wake up to servants placing hot towels on your face, and eat gold-dusted pancakes if that’s what you want.”

Elijah shook his head. “That’s exactly it. I don’t want that. I’ve spent too much of my life working—carrying bricks, washing toilets, fixing bikes, running errands for small change. Somehow, it all became a part of me. Now, sitting here and doing nothing... it feels like I’m suffocating.”

Schwarzenger’s smile faded slightly as he watched his son closely, occasionally wincing.

“If it were up to me,” Elijah continued, “I’d fire everyone in this house and do everything myself.”

Schwarzenger was stunned and taken aback by Elijah’s words, then unexpectedly chuckled softly, a low and proud sound. “You’re serious? You really want to make the butlers jobless, the gardeners homeless, and the chefs heartbroken?”

“I’d make the beds, mow the lawn, and cook my own food. I just... I need to feel useful again.”

His father placed his wine glass down, his eyes slightly gloomy yet intrigued by his son’s resilience. "You do sound serious," he chuckled.

Elijah met his gaze squarely. “Of course I am. I'm dead serious.”

Schwarzenger exhaled and rubbed his temple. “Damn... you’re exactly like her.”

Elijah frowned, hoping his father wouldn't launch into another round of storytelling. “Like who?”

“Your mother,” he said quietly. “Marianne. She was the same. She could’ve lived like a queen but insisted on teaching in a local school in Central Futuriux until the day she died. She believed in earning her keep through hard work, regardless of her surname.”

The room settled into silence for a moment, then Schwarzenger straightened. “If you truly want to work, I won’t stop you. I own most of the industries and firms in Futuriux—tech, law, production, media, and even farms. You could work anywhere: legal counsel, financial board, security chief, CEO…”

“Or janitor,” Elijah added.

Schwarzenger burst out laughing again. “God... What the heck. I'm so proud of you.”

He then turned to the butler nearby. “Bartho, tell me... do we still have shares in the entertainment conglomerate?”

“Yes, sir,” Bartho replied instantly. “You’re still the largest shareholder of the RIVA Entertainment Group. From music to movies to broadcasting... they are the face of the Futuriux entertainment sector."

Schwarzenger nodded thoughtfully. “Elijah... would you consider working in entertainment?”

Elijah blinked, confused. “Entertainment?”

“No, you don’t have to sing or dance. Our position as the largest shareholder allows you to be the president of the conglomerate," his father smirked. “They’re launching a major hit movie soon. Maybe you could run it or oversee who gets the roles.”

Elijah blinked slowly, staring at the chandelier above as if trying to add meaning to it. “Wait… You mean I could actually do that?” he asked, his voice low but heavy with interest. “Like… oversee the project? Make decisions?”

Schwarzenger gave a proud nod, swirling his wine. “Of course. It’s ours. No one would dare question you because you're the future of my dynasty, son. If you say jump, RIVA Entertainment will ask how high.”

Silence enveloped the room for a moment, the classical music now a faint echo in the background. Elijah's eyes narrowed, brows furrowing as if he were trying to recall a lost memory.

Schwarzenger caught him looking perplexed and asked, “What’s on your mind, son?”

Elijah turned toward him slowly, speaking cautiously. “That RIVA Group you mentioned… does it, by any chance, have anything to do with Benjamin Warren?”

Bartho, standing loyally near the wine rack, cleared his throat. “Yes, young master. Benjamin doesn’t just work for RIVA; he works under RIVA. He’s their most bankable star—their biggest employee. Every major box office hit in the last four years has involved him.”

Schwarzenger chuckled, taking a slow sip from his glass. “You know, I’ve heard he’s quite the asset in our industry. I’m actually thinking about promoting him—surprising him by naming him General Manager of the entire conglomerate for his wedding. To that lady of his… what was her name again?”

“Ruthila Kerr,” Bartho replied smoothly, his expression neutral.

Elijah’s head snapped toward the butler, a look of alarm on his face, as if a blade had just barely missed him. "And apparently,” Bartho continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension brewing, “Benjamin is planning to cast his fiancée as the lead actress in RIVA’s upcoming blockbuster. Rumor has it he might even propose that she join the company’s board of advisors.”

“STOP!” Elijah’s voice cut through the room, sharp and commanding, causing both Bartho and Schwarzenger to flinch. The air thickened with tension as Elijah’s chest heaved with controlled fury, his fists tightening on the table.

“Just stop,” he growled, his jaw set tightly, eyes darting between the two men. “Don’t say another word about Benjamin or her. Not tonight.”

Bartho quickly bowed his head, a look of concern crossing his face. “My apologies, young master. I didn’t mean to—”

But Elijah was already up, his chair screeching violently against the floor as he stormed toward the door. Then he froze, breath heavy, staring off into the distance as if grappling with the chaotic emotions swirling inside him.

Schwarzenger’s face hardened, unable to comprehend his son’s sudden outburst at the mere mention of Benjamin. “Elijah?” he called softly, extending a hand toward him.

For a moment, there was no response. Then Elijah returned to his seat, his expression icy. “If he thinks he can use your company… your money… your stage… after everything he did to me, just to parade that woman around as his queen—he’s out of his mind.”

His gaze turned to his father, a fierce fire igniting in his eyes. “You said I could make decisions, right?”

“Of course,” Schwarzenger replied with a hint of concern that crept into his voice.

“Then the first decision I’m making…” Elijah hissed, his voice low and dangerous, “is removing Benjamin Stone from anything associated with the Schwarzenger name.”