Once A Servant, Now A Legend

Chapter Four

The night air was sharp with autumn chill, the kind that gnawed through silence and left thoughts raw. 

Jeff stood by his car at the edge of the Smith estate, the weight of the divorce papers pressing on his chest like invisible chains.

His phone buzzed. The familiar number flashed across the screen. “Sir,” came the steady voice of his chief assistant, Ray. 

“We’ve finalized the transfer of shares for Property A. The paperwork will be ready in two days, right on schedule for Madam Genevieve’s ceremony.”

For a long moment, Jeff didn’t answer. He stared at the streetlights reflected in the puddles, faint halos of light trembling with every gust of wind. “There’s no need for that anymore,” he said finally, his voice low and distant.

Ray hesitated. “Sir?”

“I’ve already asked her for a divorce today,” Jeff continued, every word slow, deliberate, final. “In three days, I’ll come back for the signed papers. As for the shares… handle them however you see fit. I don’t care.”

The line went quiet. Ray had been with him for years, through business wars and victories that would make other men tremble, but he had never heard Jeff’s voice sound so empty.

“Understood, sir,” Ray said softly. Then, after a pause, his tone shifted, quieter but edged with relief. “If I may, perhaps it’s better this way. You’ve carried that burden long enough.”

Jeff’s lips twitched, but there was no smile. “Burden…” He looked up at the sky, where the clouds pressed low and heavy. “Maybe. Or maybe it was my punishment.”

He hung up before Ray could answer and slid into the driver’s seat. For once, he didn’t know where to go, not home, not the office. 

The city lights blurred through the windshield, streaks of gold and red that felt too bright for the kind of night he was living.

His hands gripped the wheel, veins standing out against his skin. “Peace,” he murmured, almost a laugh. “Maybe she was right. Maybe that’s all I have left.”

He turned the car toward the outskirts of the city, toward a small hill where the wind always whispered through the pines.

The cemetery was empty, blanketed in a soft, silver fog. Moonlight pooled on the wet stone paths as Jeff walked through, his footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness.

He stopped before a modest tombstone, its edges softened by time. The inscription read: Margaret Benson, Beloved Mother.

Jeff crouched down, brushing away the leaves that had gathered along the base. His fingers lingered on the carved letters. “Mom,” he whispered. The word trembled in the air. “It’s been a while.”

He sank to his knees, head bowed. “You told me once that pride can destroy a man faster than failure. I didn’t listen. I thought if I gave everything, my company, my name, my dignity, it would make her love me more. But all I did was disappear from her eyes.”

The wind sighed through the grass. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Sorry for letting you see me like this, even from wherever you are. I wanted to make you proud.”

He drew in a shaky breath, eyes blurring with the weight of years. “You were right. Love built on pity isn’t love. It’s a debt… and I’ve finally paid mine.”

His voice cracked on the last word. Silence pressed in, heavy and deep, then, a sound. A faint rustle, almost too soft to notice, coming from deeper within the trees. And then, a sharp, terrified cry. “Help! Someone, please!”

Jeff’s head snapped up. The voice was young, feminine, trembling with fear. Another scream tore through the quiet, followed by rough laughter and the dull thud of boots against the ground.

Something ancient stirred inside him. The instinct that used to keep him alive when business rivalries turned bloody, the one he thought he’d buried beneath suits and silence.

His pulse quickened, not from panic, but from purpose. For the first time in months, maybe years, his mind was clear. He was already moving before thought could catch up with motion.

The path wound downward into the trees. Moonlight fractured through the branches, painting ghostly shapes on the dirt.

There, beneath an old stone archway, three men loomed over a woman. She struggled weakly, her arms pinned, her dress torn at the shoulder.

Her face was streaked with tears, her breaths ragged. The wild fear in her eyes flickered between defiance and despair, like a candle fighting the wind. “Let me go!” she cried, her voice breaking.

The leader, thickset and sneering, gripped her chin harshly. “Scream all you want, sweetheart. No one comes here at night.”

His buddies laughed, one waving a glinting blade. “Yeah, save your energy. Be good and we might even let you live till morning.”

“Stop.”

The word cut through the darkness like steel. The three men turned, startled. Jeff stepped out from the shadows, his eyes cold and steady. 

The dim light caught on the faint scar along his jawline, a trace of the life he no longer showed anyone.

The leader squinted, then barked out a laugh. “You lost, old man? This isn’t your business.”

Jeff’s expression didn’t change, but inside, something burned, quiet, steady, dangerous. ‘Once, I built empires. Once, I fought to protect everything I loved. Now all I have left are my hands, and I remember how to use them.’

“It became my business,” he said evenly, “the moment you drew that knife.”

The second thug tilted his head, grinning. “Oh? You wanna play hero? Might end up full of holes.”

Jeff’s gaze hardened. “Try me.”

They lunged. The first swung the blade. Jeff sidestepped, his body moving with the reflex of muscle memory honed long before boardrooms and contracts.

His hand shot out, grabbing the man’s wrist. A sharp twist, bone cracked. The knife clattered to the ground.

Before the thug could scream, Jeff’s elbow drove into his chest. The man wheezed and flew backward, slamming into his companions.

The second charged blindly, swinging a broken bottle. Jeff ducked low, pivoted, swept his leg out. The man hit the dirt hard, gasping.

The third froze, eyes wide. “Who the hell are you?”

Jeff’s voice was quiet, almost calm. “Someone you shouldn’t have met tonight.”

He stepped forward, grabbed the leader by the collar, and lifted him effortlessly off the ground. “Apologize.”

The man choked, clutching at Jeff’s wrist. “W-we’re sorry! We… we didn’t mean to!”

Jeff released him with a shove that sent all three stumbling backward. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds, the sound of running footsteps faded into the trees.

Silence returned, broken only by the uneven sound of the woman’s breathing. Jeff turned back.

She had collapsed to her knees, trembling, her face pale except for the feverish flush spreading across her skin. “Hey,” he said, crouching beside her. “You’re safe now.”

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. Fear still lingered there, but beneath it, disbelief. “S-safe?”

“Yeah,” he said gently. “They’re gone.”

But as he reached out to steady her, his hand brushed her wrist, and he froze. Her pulse was racing, far too fast. Her skin burned like fire. His expression darkened. “You’ve been drugged.”

She blinked slowly, confusion clouding her gaze. “D-drugged?”

Her lips trembled as tears welled, sliding silently down her cheeks. “Please… help me.”

The words fractured something inside him. ‘Help me.’ It had been years since anyone had said that without wanting something in return.

He felt the old ache stir, his failure to save what mattered before. ‘Not this time.’

“If it’s what I think it is,” he murmured, more to himself than her, “you’ll need help soon. If the effects aren’t neutralized within twelve hours, your body won’t hold up.”

Her lashes fluttered once, then she went limp. Jeff caught her just before she hit the ground. Her head rested against his shoulder, her hair brushing against his neck.

The faint scent of gardenia lingered in the air, a delicate fragrance that didn’t belong to this cruel night.

He looked down at her face, soft features twisted in pain, lips parted as she struggled to breathe even in unconsciousness. Something in him shifted, an echo of the man he used to be.

For years, he’d been surrounded by people who only took, his effort, his loyalty, his silence. But in his arms now was someone utterly defenseless, trusting him without even knowing his name.

His jaw tightened. “Hang on,” he murmured. “You’re not dying here.”

He lifted her easily, cradling her against his chest. The moonlight glinted off the tear still clinging to her lashes. 

As he walked back toward the car, the wind carried the faint scent of lilies from the grave behind him, his mother’s grave.

And for the first time in years, Jeff whispered into the night, not a confession this time, but a vow. “Maybe this time… I can save someone right.”