LEWIS GORDON: RETURN OF THE FORGOTTEN HEIR

SILENCED, NOT DEFEATED

Immediately, the security team circled Lewis, their tailored suits moving like a wall of order. One of them leaned in, his voice calm but firm.

“Sir, this is an event filled with dignitaries. Please, kindly lower your voice.”

The hall simmered with murmurs—all eyes dragging toward the scene.

Then came the steady footsteps of the Communication Director, Mr. Derek Giggs. His presence alone hushed the noise.

His sharp tie cut like a blade against his white shirt, and his eyes carried that corporate steel only men seasoned in boardrooms could wield.

“Hello, sir,” Giggs said, his tone all business.

“I overheard your shouts about Bianca stealing your tech. Let me ask directly, do you have legal backup? Patent, documentation, evidence? If yes, why didn’t you bring them? That is how you’ll be taken seriously.”

Lewis, chest heaving, forced his voice lower—but couldn’t bury the anger cracking in his tone.

“Sir, just because I didn’t come with all those things doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to claim what’s mine. Bianca is my partner.”

“She’s desperate for wealth; that’s why she sold my sweat for money. I scavenged nights and built that tech with my own two hands, through countless failures. And in the end, she exchanged it for a payday. That tech… is mine.”

The crowd stirred like restless bees. Their whispers slid across the polished floor, some shaking their heads, others squinting at Lewis’s worn clothes.

In the VIP section, Bianca crossed her legs with elegance, her perfume lingering like a warning. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—just held her poise, eyes steady as if Lewis was nothing but background noise.

Beside her lounged Mason Kingston, heir to one of Buffalo’s most powerful political dynasties. His family’s reach ran from city hall to Wall Street, where he’d carved out his own role as a Red Origin Tech shareholder and heavyweight investor. Watch gleaming under the chandelier, aura effortless and commanding, he was the kind of man magazines called untouchable.

And Bianca, with her striking beauty and newfound wealth, fit perfectly at his side. To Mason, she was a productive and ambitious woman—the kind of partner he had prayed for, though he had no idea what she had done behind the scenes to rise so quickly.

Kingston leaned closer now, voice laced with curiosity.

“Is that guy truly your partner? Did you really steal his prototype?”

Bianca smirked, lips painted sharp.

“No. I don’t even know him. I don’t deal with low-class people. He’s just a cloud rider… trying to steal my shine. Can’t you see how local he looks?”

Kingston nodded with a dismissive laugh.

“You’re absolutely right. He’s chasing relevance. His dressing says it all.”

Giggs straightened his tie, looking back at Lewis.

“Listen. Talking won’t solve this. You’re wasting our precious time. If you truly believe this is yours, come back with proof—your sketchbook, a prototype, and your legal team. This is a professional environment, not a street corner. Until then, you’re only creating doubt. Understood?”

Lewis clenched his fists, veins snaking across his skin.

“My proof was stolen by Bianca for her patent filing. And I don’t have money for legal backup. Wait, let me show you photos of my prototype on my phone.”

He dug into his pocket with desperation. But when his fingers touched nothing but loose threads, his heart sank. He was certain he had walked in with his Samsung phone. He searched again, still empty—shock flickered across his face.

The silence that followed crushed him. The crowd stared, waiting.

“Sir… I had the phone with me,” Lewis muttered, voice firm.

“But it’s gone. Believe me, everything I said is true.”

The room broke into laughter. Phones lifted, recording him like a comedy act.

“This dude must be a comedian,” one snickered.

“Nah, he’s a criminal, trying to steal Bianca’s tech. Karma caught him quick.”

“I told you, clout chaser. He doesn’t even know how to play the game.”

Giggs adjusted his cufflinks, shaking his head.

“You’ve turned yourself into a laughingstock. Next time, bring proof and a lawyer. That’s the only way you’ll be taken seriously. I’m done here. Good day.”

He walked off, leaving him frozen under the weight of humiliation.

But Lewis wasn’t broken; he quickly maintains his composure and boldness

As the security slowly dispersed, Bianca rose. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor—each step an insult. She passed Lewis with Kingston at her side, their expensive cologne and perfume brushing past his ragged suit. Her smirk lingered, sharp as a blade.

Minutes later, outside by the valet entrance, Lewis spotted them again—Bianca and Mr. Kingston standing beside a sleek black Mercedes. His own beat-up Chevrolet Equinox sat parked like a scar across from their luxury.

Kingston spotted him instantly, jaw tightening.

“Dude, who the fuck are you? You’ve got the audacity to play games with my woman? Are you insane?”

His voice hit like a slap.

“I’m waiting. Who are you?”

Lewis swallowed hard.

“She’s my partner. Wait, are you the one who made her purchase my prototype?”

Kingston stepped forward, his designer shoes clicking against the pavement.

“What type of question is that? Don’t you have respect? Are you trying to drag me into your lies? I already know you’re a status junkie. You failed inside; now you want to use me outside to get relevance? You failed twice, boy.”

“Listen… let this better be the first and last time my woman’s name rolls off your dirty mouth.”

Bianca curled into Kingston’s arm, her laugh cruel and sweet as poison.

“Honey, stop wasting breath on him. He’s a random trend leech. Look at him, trying to rise off someone else’s back. He’s a low-key psychopath.”

Inside, Bianca was fully satisfied with Kingston’s defense of her. The real reason she linked up with him had nothing to do with love—it was his wealth, his fame, and his influence. To her, Kingston was a perfect shield, a weapon she could wield to punish and crush Lewis.

Every insult Kingston threw was exactly why she chose him. It fed her ego and proved she had climbed out of the gutter and now had the power to break the man who once shared her dreams.

Lewis’s chest tightened, betrayal slicing deeper than any insult. He stared blankly as they brushed past him, their chauffeur holding open the Rolls-Royce door. Kingston’s commanding stride and Bianca’s sarcastic smile were the final knives.

The car purred to life, taillights glowing like burning eyes, and vanished into the night.

Lewis stood there crushed but maintained composure. Minutes later, he dragged himself to his Chevrolet. Inside, the old leather smelled of dust and forgotten dreams. He gripped the wheel, staring at nothing.

The streets of Buffalo pulsed outside—horns blaring, neon lights flickering across wet asphalt, street vendors yelling prices, and kids dashing across corners. But inside the car, Lewis was drowning. His thoughts spiraled like a broken record.

Legal teams… Money I don’t have. Proof... she stole from me. Nights of work… gone. Maybe I should disregard it for now.

His eyes glazed. His hands shook. He pressed the accelerator harder, his car weaving into traffic like a drunk shadow.

He didn’t notice the red light. Didn’t hear the horns. The city’s chaos blurred into a smear of headlights and voices.

What came next was inevitable—the sickening meeting of steel and skin, the kind of sound that freezes a city street.

His Chevrolet Equinox struck an old woman on the zebra crossing. The sound was sickening, her body collapsing against the hood before rolling onto the asphalt. Screams erupted.