From Busboy To Iron Lord: The Almighty Rowan Lachlan Returns

Chapter 7

Henri’s smile froze, his grip around his phone tightening. “What do you mean… gone?”

The man exhaled heavily. “A hostile takeover. Ten minutes ago. A shadow conglomerate backed by offshore accounts completely gutted us.”

“They bought the Grand Meridian Hotel, the new construction development, every single thing. Donovan Locke has also been ousted and I’m not even sure he has much to his name anymore.”

“The whole thing is just messy. We don't even know the name of the buyer. I have to go now, Mr. Elliot. We are packing up our desks.”

The line went dead a second later.

For the next ten seconds, one could hear a pin drop in the room as a deathly silence took over the onve buzzing atmosphere.

Then, Henri scoffed, breaking the silence.

Regaining his composure, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and folded both hands across his chest.

His initial shock quickly morphed into a smug, dismissive sneer as he stepped toward Rowan.

“Well, there you have it. The company was bought by a massive shadow conglomerate. Not a broke, pathetic busboy like you.”

The elites in the room slowly exchanged glances before the sneers returned to their faces.

Companies being bought out by bigger companies wasn’t new to anyone but given the size of Donovan Locke’s company, it rendered them speechless for a while.

“That’s right. He probably overheard a rumor on the street or saw the news break somwhere online, and tried to use it to act like a big shot.”

“Imagine trying to take credit for a billionaire conglomerate’s hostile takeover just to impress a disgraced woman. How pathetic.”

“Even in this stupid fantasy of his, he couldn’t even do better. I guess once a busboy, always a busboy.”

Despite their hostile words, Rowan stood tall, his expression entirely unbothered by the insults being hurled at him.

Instead, he locked his icy blue eyes onto Henri, repeating calmly, “I bought it, so now you have to keep to your end of the bargain.”

“Oh, shut up! You’re making a fool of yourself. A busboy buying a two-billion-dollar project? You couldn't even afford the carpet you’re standing on, so I owe you nothing!” Henri snapped immediately, waving his hand around dismissively.

He then turned his attention to the rest of the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, it seems the Locke contract is back in play!”

“Whoever these new owners are, they’re going to need suppliers. As the heir to the Elliot Real Estate Group, I’m leaving to prepare our bid. I suggest you all do the same.”

Mirabel had hosted this party to celebrate the Renard family securing the contract with Donovan and everyone attended knowing they’d be the next big family once it happened.

Realizing that the offer for their own family to be the next big thing was back on the table, the guests began grabbing their coats and calling their assistant.

No one spared Rowan a second glance.

To them, he was nothing but a delusional beggar seeking attention.

Watching everyone leave, Mirabel Renard stood trembling near the head table, her face contorted in absolute fury as she watched her family's golden opportunity walk out the door.

She spun around, her eyes locking onto Nancy with pure, unadulterated hatred.

“You worthless, incompetent girl!” She shrieked, the venom in her voice making Nancy flinch.

“I give you one simple task, and you completely ruin it! You didn't get the signature, Donovan Locke lost his company, and you bring this lying piece of trash here to humiliate our family in front of our greatest rivals?”

“Grandmother, please…” Nancy choked out, tears spilling over her eyelashes trying as she tried to explain.

“Don't call me that. You are a curse on this family. You never get a single thing right. Get out of my sight. And take this stray dog with you!” Mirabel interrupted, gritting her teeth furiously.

Nancy’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

The tiny sliver of hope she had clung to—the hope that she could finally bring her children out of the cold and back into the warmth of the Renard family—was gone forever.

Without looking at Rowan, she turned and hurried out of the banquet hall.

Rowan’s jaw tightened.

He cast one final, chilling glance at Mirabel Renard before turning on his heel and following Nancy out into the night.

By the time he caught up to her, Nancy had already taken a taxi back to the Renard family estate.

She rushed into the servants' quarters, wrapping her heavy coats around a shivering Reese and Ryan.

The boys clung to her, exhausted and frightened by the chaotic evening.

As she stepped out of the back gates with Reese and Ryan, she saw Rowan standing under the dim glow of a streetlamp, the snow settling on his broad shoulders.

She stopped. The sheer exhaustion and trauma of the past six years completely overwhelming her at the sight of him looking tall and unbothered.

“Stay away from us,” she finally parted her lips, her voice trembling but laced with a fierce, protective rage.

Rowan took a step forward. “I…”

“I said stay away!” she screamed, stepping back and pulling her children behind her legs.

Rowan stopped moving and swallowed.

“You ruined my life six years ago. Because of you, I lost my family. Because of you, my children are treated like garbage. I don't know why you came back, and I don't care about your stupid lies about buying companies!”

Rowan looked at the two boys hiding behind her fearfully.

A dull ache filled his chest, a foreign sensation for him who had spent half a decade bathing in blood and war.

“I’m sorry,” it was the only words he felt he could tell her.

Nancy turned her back on him, hailing a cab off the street. She loaded her children inside, not looking back once as the car sped off.

Rowan watched the taillights of the taxi disappear into the night before he stepped back and turned.

He pulled his heavy black coat tighter, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous, predatory glare.

He then turned on his heel, walking away from the Renard estate.

Across the Imperial City, Henri Elliot drove his luxury sports car up the winding, private road leading to the grand Elliot family estate.

As he drove, he blasted loud pop music from his stereo, singing along with it as he was in a really good mood.

Not only was the Locke contract back up for grabs, he had successfully humiliated the Renard family and exposed Nancy’s dirty little secret to the entire elite circle.

But as his headlights swept across the towering wrought-iron gates of his family mansion, Henri slammed on the brakes at the sight of someone.

A tall figure was leaning casually against the freezing metal of the gate, entirely unfazed by the biting snow.

Henri squinted through the windshield, his brows knitting together in annoyance when he recognized the vibrant red hair.

He rolled down his tinted window and stuck his head out to cuss at Rowan.

“You disgusting bastard, wha do you think you are doing here?!”

Rowan slowly pushed himself off the gate.

Slipping both hands into his coat pockets, he walked over to the driver's side of the sports car.

“You left before I could introduce myself properly.”

Henri rolled his eyes, utterly repulsed that this trash had followed him home.

“Get lost, you piece of shit.” He hissed, slamming his foot on the gas pedal.

He sped up the long driveway without looking back.

The Elliot family employed dozens of elite security personnel, so he knew he was completely safe in case Rowan tried to force his way in.

Strutting inside the living room, Henri barked loudly, “Maid! Fix me something to drink. A strong whiskey. And tell the guards there's a stray dog lingering by the front gates. Have them beat him and throw him in the river.”

“R-right away, Young Master Elliot,” a maid stammered, rushing off toward the kitchen.

Henri slouched down on a chair and didn’t realize he was dozing off until he heard the doors open.

As the Elliot’s family’s direct heir, he had a wing all to himself and none of the Renard family would com without informing him.

But in the case that they did, he was very annoyed and turned to tell them he was cutting off their allowance for the month.

”Have you lost your freaking mi…” The words died in his throat at the sight he saw and his eyes abruptly widened in disbelief.

Rowan strolled casually into the grand foyer, his hands still resting in his pockets as he took a moment to admire the expensive chandeliers and towering architecture of the living room.

Henri’s eyes bulged.

He opened his mouth to scream for security, but then his gaze shifted to the snowy porch just beyond the doorway.

Heaped on top of each other like discarded ragdolls were the Elliot family’s prized bodyguards.

Nearly twenty highly trained men were piled on the concrete, groaning weakly, their limbs twisted and entirely unable to move.

It wasn’t even up to five minutes since the maid left to deliver the message to them, who could take down twenty men in less than five minites?

Rowan finished admiring the building and finally lowered his gaze to the trembling heir.

He smiled.

“Mr. Elliot, I have come to collect the Elliot Real Estate Group that you owe me.”