Elijah Schwarzenger Rises To Power

0017

The automatic gate of the Schwarzenger estate slid open with its usual hiss, and Elijah’s car rolled to a halt in the private courtyard, the engine shutting down with a tired hum.

The world outside was calm, the night air rich with the scent of midnight jasmine from the garden, but inside Elijah… a storm brewed.

He stepped out without a word, ignoring the guards who stood at attention along the corridor. His new phone, still sealed in the branded box, dangled in one hand as he walked toward his mansion. His strides were cold, stiff, filled with the weight of suppressed rage.

By the time he reached his private wing, he had already made up his mind, not wanting to see anybody till the next morning. He locked the door, twisted the security latch, and sank into the edge of his sofa

The walls were lined with luxury; a shelf full of untouched suits, another of designer shoes, gold-accented walls, a 180-inch curved OLED screen mounted on one side, and a personalized voice assistant glowing silently in the corner, waiting for instructions.

As he just sat, the embarrassment of the store clung to his chest like a chain of iron. It wasn’t about the card, or even the attendant—it was about who he was supposed to be if he had successfully paid customers bill with his card.

And how the attendant still treated him like he was no one

A knock echoed softly at the door but he didn’t move, not ready to change his mind in any minutes as he aggressively brushed his face with his palms.

Another knock came again. Then his father's deep hesitant voice followed.

“Elijah… son... please open the door.”

Silence enveloped both men for about five minutes before Schwarzenger called out again. “It’s me.”

But there was still no movement from Elijah who just sat with his face buried in his palms.

“I know you're angry,” Schwarzenger said, his voice heavy with restrained guilt. “And you have every right to be. I… I heard what happened.”

Elijah heard the sound of shoes shifting against the polished marble outside then a pause and another knock—softer this time.

“Since I was away for a long time in the United States, the card was useless for a very long time so the bank thought someone was tampering with my funds. They froze the card automatically when the vault’s digital authentication shifted during today's access protocols. That’s on the bank, Elijah. Not you.”

Still, Schwarzenger heard no response from inside. “I would never..never...allow anyone to humiliate you like that in public. That store should have known who you were the moment you stepped through their damn door.”

Inside, Elijah stared at the shadows dancing across the far wall. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the sofa.

Outside the door, Schwarzenger let out a shaky breath. It was rare for the lion of the Schwarzenger empire as he fondly called himself to beg—but tonight he wasn't the business tycoon, he had to be there for his son as a father.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” he continued, voice rasping now. “You were right about anything you might be thinking right now and I should’ve been there before it got this far. And I’m sorry.”

Elijah finally stood from the bed. But he didn’t go to the door.

“Son…” Schwarzenger’s voice softened more on hearing Elijah's steps. “This isn’t just about the card, is it? You’re carrying more than what happened in that store. I can hear it in your silence.”

Another long pause stretched for minutes before Schwarzenger said something even he never thought he’d say out loud. “If you never open this door tonight… I’ll wait here. On this floor. All night if I have to.”

Elijah stood in the centre of his room with his jaws clenched and his hands balled into fists. But he realized his father’s voice echoing outside the door was unusually stripped of authority and he feared he was making him feel uncomfortable.

He walked to the door and creaked it open an inch, revealing only Schwarzenger standing there, exactly as promised. Elijah looked around but didn't see a single guard in sight. His hand still rested gently on the doorframe and his face was drenched with quiet remorse.

Both father and son stared at each other for a long second then Elijah’s lips parted, trembling ever so slightly. “I'm so sorry, Dad."

Schwarzenger didn’t speak. He just nodded once and smiled at his son. Elijah's throat squeezed and his vision blurred but before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and collapsed into his father’s arms.

"Elijah!" Schwarzenger gasped and pulled him close without hesitation, holding him close.

“I should be the one saying sorry, son,” he murmured, holding the back of Elijah’s head. “I swear to you... It will be the first and last time that ever happens again.”

Elijah didn’t respond at first. He just nodded slowly against his father’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of sandalwood cologne and aged leather. Then, as he finally pulled back, he sniffled and wiped at his face.

Schwarzenger gave a gentle pat to his back. “Good. Now... enough of this sulking, my boy." Tomorrow’s the day we make the world sit up straight when they hear your name.”

He walked across the living room to the private bar beside the open dining space. Crystal bottles glittered under recessed lighting, some of them unopened for over a decade.

“What would you like to take?” he asked, grabbing two glasses. “Scotch? Bourbon? Or this red thousand-dollar liquor jonsense I can’t pronounce?”

Elijah slumped onto the couch, wiping his eyes again. “Anything,” he muttered. “Whatever will make my head free from this sh!t."

Schwarzenger gave a dry chuckle. “Perfect. That’s usually my policy too.”

He began pouring a dark amber liquid into their glasses. But just as he handed one to Elijah, the wide TV screen mounted across the wall came to life with an urgent news broadcast.

“7pm breaking news from San Dicevey…”

Both men froze as the TV flickered to a grainy image showing Elijah standing in the middle of the tech store, surrounded by confused onlookers. The footage was angled, taken by someone’s phone camera. His voice wasn’t audible, but the headline across the screen did all the damage:

> “EXCLUSIVE: MAN ATTEMPTS TECH STORE FRAUD WITH UNUSUAL CARD—INVESTIGATION UNDERWAY"

Elijah’s stomach dropped as he glared at the screen with another blurred image of him replacing the first. It was a still frame with him holding the diamond card.

The reporter’s voice continued, sounding smugly and self-important.

> “The unidentified man was reportedly trying to use a non-banking-grade item to pay for several luxury devices. Sources say he claimed the object was a ‘card,’ but employees confirmed the item did not pass the store’s POS authentication and—”

Elijah couldn’t listen anymore and downed the liquid in one go before he lowered his glass and then buried his face in his palms as tears streaked down his cheeks.

A long, heavy silence passed and Schwarzenger turned down the volume, his eyes still fixated on the screen and his expression looked dangerous.

“Great,” Elijah muttered with a muffled voice amidst tears. “So now I’m a national embarrassment.”

“No,” Schwarzenger said firmly, placing his glass on the counter. “I can put a call to the news company to take down the fake broadcast if you want."

Elijah shook his head negatively and Schwarzenger walked up to him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let them talk tonight,” he said. “Let them laugh. Let them gossip. Because tomorrow, by this time… those same people will be wishing they hadn’t.”

Elijah didn’t look up from the floor and his fingers started trembling, struggling to contain his tears.