I Was the Joke: Now I'm the Punchline They Fear

A Meeting With The Monster

The next day at exactly seven forty-five PM , Marcus stood in front of a full-length mirror in the conference room bathroom, gazing at himself. 

"You look like you're preparing for war," Victor said from the doorway.

Marcus glanced at him. "Aren't I?"

"That depends on what you want”.

Marcus turned from the mirror, looking at the card on Victor’s hand.

 "The Velvet Room. What is it?"

"It's a private club in Midtown. 

Victor handed Marcus the small card. 

"Show this to the host and he'll take you to your father's private room."

Marcus put the card inside his pocket. "Will you be there?"

"I won't be inside. Your father said you should come alone, and he'll know if I'm there. But I'll be nearby. If things go badly..." Victor pulled back his jacket slightly, showing the gun he placed at his hip. "If things go badly, I'll know."

Marcus straightened his tie one final time. "I spent five years believing I could escape him. I was wrong about that."

"Were you?" Victor asked. "Or were you just fighting with both hands tied behind your back?"

"What's the difference?"

"All the difference in the world." Victor walked closer, his voice dropping to something almost paternal. "Five years ago, you tried to be someone you're not—weak, powerless, ordinary. You failed because that's not who you are. But that doesn't mean your father is right about everything. There's space between his brutality and your attempted normalcy. That's where you need to find yourself."

Marcus met Victor's eyes. "And if I can't find that space? If there's no middle ground?"

"Then at least you'll have chosen your path instead of having it chosen for you." Victor checked his watch. "It's time. The car is downstairs."

The Mercedes moved through Manhattan's evening traffic with the same efficiency as before, but tonight the city felt different to Marcus. More alive. More aware. Or maybe he was just more present in it, no longer hiding behind the mask of Marcus Chen, nobody from nowhere.

Tonight, he was Marcus Chen-Laurent. The heir to an empire built on secrets and power.

The question was: what kind of heir?

The Velvet Room occupied the top floor of an unmarked building near Madison Square Park. Victor pulled up to what looked like a service entrance, and a valet in a black suit immediately appeared.

"Mr. Chen-Laurent," the valet said, opening Marcus's door

 They'd been expecting him. "Welcome. Please follow me."

Victor met Marcus's eyes one last time. "Remember, don't let him make you angry”.

Marcus nodded and followed the valet inside.

The Velvet Room lived up to its name. Rich burgundy fabric covered the walls, absorbing sound and creating an atmosphere of hushed intimacy. The lighting was low, golden, and flattering. Marcus could see several seating areas, each separated by careful architecture that gave the illusion of privacy while maintaining the open floor plan.

People sat in small clusters, speaking in quiet voices. Marcus recognized several faces—a senator from Connecticut, a tech CEO who'd been on the cover of Time last month, a woman who ran one of New York's largest hedge funds. These were the people who shaped the world from behind closed doors.

And they all glanced at Marcus as he passed, their conversations pausing for just a moment before resuming.

They knew who he was. Or at least, they knew what he represented.

"This way, sir," the host said, leading Marcus toward the back of the room.

They approached a door that was different from the others—heavier, more ornate, with a dragon carved into the dark wood. The host knocked twice, then opened it without waiting for a response.

"Mr. Marcus Chen-Laurent," he announced, then stepped aside.

Marcus walked through the door, and it closed behind him with a soft click. 

The private room was smaller than the main floor but no less opulent. A single table sat in the center, set with crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey that probably cost more than a month's rent in Queens. Two chairs faced each other across the table.

One was empty.

In the other sat Robert Chen.

Marcus's father looked exactly as Marcus remembered and yet completely different. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost ten thousand dollars.

He didn't stand when Marcus entered. Didn't smile.He just studied his son with the clinical interest of a scientist examining an experiment.

"Five years," Robert said finally, his voice smooth and controlled. "You look like shit."

Marcus moved to the empty chair but didn't sit. "You look the same. Still dead behind the eyes."

Robert's lips curved slightly. Not quite a smile. "There he is. I was beginning to think the Bradfords had completely neutered you. Sit down, Marcus. We have things to discuss."

Marcus remained standing. "I'll stand."

"No, you won't." Robert's voice hardened. "You wanted this meeting and I granted it. The least you can do is show some courtesy. Sit. Down."

For a moment, they stared at each other across the table. Marcus sat slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

"Better," Robert said. He poured two glasses of whiskey, pushing one toward Marcus. "Macallan 1926. Sixty years old. There are only forty bottles in existence. I own three of them." He raised his glass. "Homecoming."

Marcus didn't touch his glass. "I'm not here for a reunion."

"No? Then what are you here for?"

"Answers."

Robert took a sip of his whiskey. "Answers. How wonderfully vague. Let me guess—you want to know why I orchestrated your suffering. Why I sent Daniel to seduce your wife. Why I bought up Bradford's debt and squeezed them until they took their frustrations out on you." He set down his glass. "You want to know if I'm the monster you've been painting me as for five years."

"I know you're the monster," Marcus said quietly. "I'm here to understand why."

"Why." Robert leaned back in his chair. "You want motivation. Context. Some explanation that makes it all make sense." He smiled, and it was not a kind expression. "Fine. I'll give you the truth, since you've finally grown enough spine to ask for it directly."

He stood and walked to the window overlooking Madison Square Park. "When you were twenty-three, fresh out of Harvard, you came to me with ideas. Big ideas about transforming the family business. Making it legitimate. Clean. You wanted to build something sustainable, you said. Something that didn't rely on fear and violence."

"I remember," Marcus said.

"I listened to your presentation. Very impressive, by the way. You'd clearly put thought into it. A five-year plan to transition from underground operations to legitimate business ventures. Partnerships instead of extortion. Reputation instead of fear." Robert turned from the window. "Do you remember what I said when you finished?"

Marcus's jaw tightened. "You said I was naive."

"I said you were dangerously naive. There's a difference." Robert returned to his seat. "I didn't dismiss your ideas because they were wrong, Marcus. I dismissed them because you hadn't earned the right to implement them. You were a child playing with concepts you didn't understand. You wanted to be kind in a world that punishes kindness. Merciful in a world that exploits mercy."

"So you decided to teach me a lesson," Marcus said bitterly.

"I decided to give you an education," Robert corrected. "You wanted to leave? Fine. I let you leave. You wanted to build a normal life? I let you try. You wanted to prove that love and goodness were enough? I gave you five years to discover the truth yourself."

"The truth," Marcus repeated. "You mean that people are cruel, the world is brutal and that power is all that matters."

"No." Robert's voice sharpened. "The truth is that without power, you're meat. You're something to be used and discarded. The Bradfords didn't abuse you because they're uniquely evil. They abused you because they could. Because you let them. Because you walked into their world without armor and expected them to respect your vulnerability."

He poured himself more whiskey. "Daniel didn't seduce Victoria because I ordered him to. I gave him permission to pursue her if the opportunity arose, yes. But the actual seduction? That was all on him. He saw weakness and exploited it. That's what predators do."

"She was my wife," Marcus said, his voice low and dangerous.

"She was a woman married to a man who couldn't protect her, provide for her, or command any respect from her family. What did you think would happen?" Robert took another sip. "You walked away from power, Marcus. And the moment you did, the world began devouring you. That's not cruelty. That's nature."

Marcus felt anger rising in his chest. He forced himself to breathe slowly. "You bought Bradford's debt. You orchestrated their financial destruction. That wasn't nature, that was you."

"I accelerated a process that was already happening," Robert said dismissively. "The Bradfords were always going to fail. They're entitled fools running on inherited wealth and connections. I just made sure they failed while you were there to witness it. To understand what happens to people who build their lives on appearances instead of substance."

"And what about my mother?" Marcus asked. The words came out harder than he intended. "Was forcing her to fake her own death part of my education too?"

For the first time, Robert's expression shifted.

"Your mother," Robert said carefully, "made a choice. Whether to leave without you, or watch me kill you both”.

"That's not a choice. That's extortion."

"Welcome to the real world." Robert's voice hardened again. "Your mother was weak, Marcus. She wanted to raise you to be weak like her—compassionate, moral, questioning authority. I couldn't allow that because you're my heir and the Chen family's future. I need you to be strong, not soft."

"So you took her from me," Marcus said. "You made me think she was dead".

"And it worked, didn't it?" Robert leaned forward. "You survived. You developed the skills and intelligence to run this organization. Yes, you rebelled and you tried to escape. But ultimately, you're sitting here, aren't you? Wearing a suit that costs more than most people make in a year. Looking like the heir you were always meant to be."

"What do you want from me?" Marcus asked. "Really. What's the endgame?"

"I want you to take your place as heir. To accept that your experiment in normalcy failed and that you're ready to do things the right way. My way."

"And in exchange?"

"In exchange, I will give you everything." Robert gestured broadly. "The Bradfords will be destroyed completely. Daniel will be exposed and punished for his disrespect in seducing your wife. Victoria will be left to deal with the consequences of her choices. All you have to do is say yes."

"There's a catch," Marcus said.

"Of course there's a catch." Robert's smile widened. "Do it my way and follow my methods. Prove to me that you've learned the lessons I spent five years teaching you and that you understand power is the only thing that matters."

"You want me to become you."

"I want you to become who you were always meant to be." Robert stood and walked around the table, stopping directly in front of Marcus. "You're my son, Marcus. My heir. The Chen family has built something that will outlast both of us, but only if we have strong leadership. Daniel is a useful attack dog, but he's not a leader. He's too impulsive, and too violent. You have the intelligence, and the strategic mind. You just need to understand that compassion without power is worthless."

Marcus stood to face his father.

"And if I refuse?" Marcus asked.

Robert's expression hardened. "Then you will get nothing. The Bradfords will frame you for embezzlement. You'll go to prison and Daniel will marry Victoria and get what's left of the Bradford assets. Your mother will continue living in Paris and the Chen family will move forward without you."

"You'd let them imprison me?"

"I'd let you face the consequences of your continued weakness, yes." Robert moved even closer, until they were inches apart. "I gave you five years to learn this lesson on your own. Now I'm giving you one more chance. Take your place and accept your power. Become who you're meant to be. Or spend the rest of your life as a cautionary tale about what happens to heirs who refuse their inheritance."

Marcus could feel his father's breath, smell his expensive cologne.

"I need time to think," Marcus said.

Robert stepped back, his expression unreadable. "You have twenty-four hours. After that, the Bradfords will file their charges. Choose wisely, Marcus. This is the last chance I'm offering."

"Last chance for what? For me to become you?"

"Last chance for you to become “anything”," Robert said coldly. "Twenty-four hours. Then you're either my heir or my disappointment. And I don't tolerate disappointments."

Marcus turned toward the door to leave. 

"Marcus," Robert called. "One more thing."

Marcus stopped but didn't turn around.

"Your mother has been waiting for eighteen years for you to contact her." Robert's voice softened slightly. "If you accept your place as my heir, I'll arrange a reunion and you can see her and talk to her."

Marcus's hand tightened on the doorknob. "You're using her as leverage."

"I'm offering you a gift”.

Marcus opened the door and walked out without responding.

The main floor of the Velvet Room seemed brighter now, though the lighting hadn't changed. Marcus moved through it in a daze, barely seeing the faces that turned to watch him leave.

The elevator felt like a coffin.

When he got to the park, Victor was already waiting in the car. 

"How did it go?"

Marcus got in the back seat and stared out through the window. "Drive". 

Victor pulled into traffic without another question.

Marcus's phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

“You have twenty-four hours, son. Choose power, or choose nothing. -Father”.

Marcus signed heavily and stared at his reflection in the window.

His father had offered him revenge, power, and him meeting his mother as a gift. All he had to do was surrender his soul and become a monster.

Marcus pulled out his phone and looked at the message again. Then he opened a new text to the number Victor had given him—his mother's secure line in Paris.

He typed: "I know you're alive and I know what happened. I don't know if I can forgive you yet, but I need to know something. Is there a way to be strong without being cruel? Or was Father right about everything?"

He hit send before he could second-guess himself.

The reply came faster than he expected.

"My darling boy. Strength without compassion is tyranny. Compassion without strength is martyrdom and you need both. Your father only understands one. That's why he'll never understand you. And that's why you'll be better than him. I love you. I've always loved you. -Mom"

Marcus read the message three times.

Then he looked at Victor in the rearview mirror. 

"Take me back to the conference room. I need to see all the evidence again. Everything you've compiled."

"What are you planning?" Victor asked.

"I'm planning to prove that my father is wrong and that there's a third option he never considered."

"Which is?"

Marcus smiled, and it was not a kind expression. 

"I'm going to destroy everyone who hurt me. The Bradfords, Daniel, and all of them. But I'm going to do it my way legally, and strategically. And when I'm done, I'm going to take my father's empire and transform it into something he never imagined possible."

"That's ambitious," Victor said carefully. "Also possibly impossible."

"Probably," Marcus agreed. "But I've spent five years being weak. I think it's time to find out what I can do when I stop apologizing for being strong."

"Now you sound like your mother's son."

"Good," Marcus said. "Because I'm done being my father's."

The Mercedes turned down a dark street, carrying Marcus toward a future he was about to create on his own terms.

Behind them, in his private room at the Velvet Room, Robert Chen poured himself another glass of sixty-year-old whiskey and smiled.

What Robert didn't know was that Marcus wasn't planning to become like him. He was planning to become something Robert had never prepared for: an heir who would take everything and transform it into something new.

The game had begun.

And neither father nor son knew who would win yet.