Once A Servant, Now A Legend

Chapter Two

The laughter and clinking of porcelain upstairs slowly faded into silence. Only faint murmurs lingered through the ceiling, ghostly traces of the gathering that had once pierced Jeff Benson’s heart like needles. Now, they barely grazed him.

He retreated to his refuge downstairs, a cool, spotless basement filled with his laptop, phone, and the quiet hum of control. 

This was his world, hidden behind the façade of servitude, where none of his in-laws could reach.

Wiping his hands clean, Jeff picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number. “Boss,” came the crisp, professional voice on the other end, a tone unimaginable to anyone in the Smith household, who saw him merely as the quiet, obedient husband.

“Tonight,” Jeff’s voice was calm and low, “take care of the officials who facilitated Genevieve’s company listing. Ensure everything proceeds flawlessly. Treat them with utmost respect.”

“Yes, sir. Understood.”

Jeff paused. His eyes drifted to the glowing laptop screen, where a folder of documents lay open, contracts stamped with his name and years of sweat. 

Bezos Holdings, his life’s work. “One more thing,” he continued quietly. “Transfer full management rights of Bezos Holdings to Genevieve. Effective immediately.”

The subordinate hesitated, just for a breath. “...Yes, sir.”

The call ended. Jeff exhaled, a long, heavy breath that seemed to draw out every remaining thread of resistance within him. 

He could have kept it all, his company, his power, his pride. But he chose her instead. He always chose her.

He rose and went upstairs, the faint scent of cleaning products giving way to the aroma of freshly cooked food. 

The dining table glowed under the soft shimmer of candlelight. He had spent the day preparing.

The finest seafood, beef marinated to perfection, napkins folded just the way Genevieve liked them back when she cared about such things. 

A vase of lilies stood at the center, their fragrance delicate and pure, an echo of what he once believed their love to be.

He glanced at his watch. Almost seven. Her flight should have landed hours ago. She would be home soon. But the minutes stretched thin. Seven-thirty. Eight. Still no sound from the door.

He readjusted the plates, refolded the napkins, wiped the already spotless table again. Then he poured himself a glass of wine. Then another.

Finally, unable to bear the silence, he picked up his phone and dialed her number. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

On the fourth try, the call connected, but it wasn’t Genevieve’s voice that answered. “Hello?” A man’s tone, lazy and mocking, faintly slurred with drink.

Jeff froze. “Who are you? Isn’t this Genevieve’s number?”

The man chuckled, a cruel lilt in his voice. “Hey, babe, your husband’s calling.”

There was a shuffle, then Genevieve’s voice, sharp and irritated. “Why are you calling now?”

“Genevieve,” Jeff breathed, a fragile mixture of relief and confusion. “I’ve been waiting. I made dinner for us.”

“Dinner?” Her tone was icy. “Didn’t I tell you not to disturb me during work hours? Can’t you understand something that simple?”

He swallowed hard. “I thought we could celebrate. Just the two of us. Mother’s gone out, and, ”

“Enough,” she snapped, cutting him off. “I’m attending a company banquet. I won’t be home tonight. Don’t wait up.”

The line went dead. Jeff sat there for a moment, the silence pressing against his chest. Then his phone buzzed again, a new message. A video file. He tapped it open.

Under bright lights and the roar of a cheering crowd, a man had his arms around Genevieve, kissing her deeply. 

Cameras flashed. The man dropped to one knee, a diamond ring glinting between his fingers.

 “Marry me!” he shouted.

Genevieve smiled, radiant, unguarded, happy, and nodded. The ring slid onto her finger as applause erupted around them. The phone slipped from Jeff’s hand. His throat worked soundlessly. “No!”

 He picked up the device again with trembling fingers, calling her number once more. Straight to voicemail. Again, and again. Her phone was off.

Across the city, the celebration raged on in a luxury hotel suite. Champagne glasses littered the floor, and laughter spilled through the room.

Genevieve lay against silken sheets, her cheeks flushed from wine and euphoria. Beside her, Fred Clinton, her first love returned after years abroad, traced his fingers lazily along her arm.

“You accepted the ring,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “But you’re not wearing it.”

Genevieve’s gaze flicked to the bedside table, where the ring gleamed faintly in the low light. A flicker of guilt shadowed her face. “It’s not time yet. I haven’t finalized the divorce. I can’t let anyone see.”

Fred smiled and tilted her chin up. “When will you, then?”

Her lips parted, hesitation flashing before resolve returned. “The agreement’s ready. I’ll hand it over soon… when the moment’s right.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice smooth and coaxing. “You’ve done so well, Genevieve. Everything you’ve achieved, you’ve earned it. Through us.”

Her eyes softened, her trust deepening. She believed him, believed that he had been the one who made her company’s success possible, and Fred, knowing the truth, said nothing.