RUTHLESS MAGNATE'S SUPREMACY

Chapter 8

The backseat of the luxury car offered a profound, suffocating silence. Jarren sat perfectly still, utterly bewildered as to why a legendary figure like Luciana Harolds had taken any interest in him at all. After what felt like an eternity, the heavy glass doors of the Joans Group company building finally slid open, and Luciana emerged. Even from a distance, her presence commanded absolute attention, prompting her two personal security guards to sprint ahead and respectfully pull open the heavy rear door of the vehicle.

Jarren watched closely, taking in the unmistakable deference with which the heavily built guards treated Luciana Harolds. She slipped gracefully into the leather interior, sliding across the spacious seat until she came to rest right beside him.

"Your life after this will become hell, Mr. Corpuz," Luciana said to him.

He swallowed hard, the dry lump in his throat catching him off guard as he scrambled for a response. Her words carried a strange dual weight, stinging his pride with the force of an insult while simultaneously vibrating with the undeniable gravity of a genuine warning.

"Your almost-in-laws will not leave you alone because of what happened," she added, her tone carrying an effortless, chilling certainty.

The heavy air pressing down on his chest finally afforded Jarren a fleeting opportunity to draw in a deep, shuddering breath, and he seized it. He turned his head to study Luciana in the dim cabin light. Up until this moment, he had only ever heard whispers of her phenomenal corporate triumphs, legendary tales of a ruthless strategist who systematically dismantled and crushed her competitors without breaking a sweat. Yet, experiencing her terrifying proximity was entirely different; the sheer aura of power radiating from the stunning woman beside him reminded him of nothing less than a magnificent, untamed tiger.

"I did nothing to them," Jarren began, his voice tight with lingering frustration. "To be completely honest, Miss Harolds, the Joans family are the ones indebted to me. They broke our contract. What they are doing is manipulating Nerissa! They are fabricating stories about me just to ruin my reputation in front of Nerissa."

"You are intelligent, and I know you are well aware of what I mean. No matter what you do, they will play the victim," she replied smoothly, her expression remaining entirely unreadable. She sighed softly, shifting her weight as she crossed her right leg elegantly over her left. "As for me, I recognize opportunistic and manipulative people when I see them," she continued. Without waiting for his input, she tapped the glass partition. "Take us to my mansion," she commanded the driver.

"Wait?!" Jarren blurted out, panic flashing in his eyes.

"Yes, Miss Lucy," the driver responded immediately, the partition sliding shut before Jarren could voice another protest.

Left with zero options, he slumped back against the plush upholstery, resigning himself to the strange whim as the driver and Luciana's trailing bodyguard convoy seamlessly followed the woman's absolute orders.

Hours melted away as the vehicle finally swept through towering wrought iron gates and glided up a sprawling private drive. While Jarren certainly considered his own estate impressive, the sprawling sanctuary of Luciana Harolds belonged to an entirely different realm, resembling a divine palace plucked straight from the clouds. Standing in the grand foyer, he felt like an awestruck child, his gaze wandering helplessly across the soaring architectural pillars, the immaculate interior gardens, the larger-than-life classical statues of Poseidon, Zeus, and a hauntingly detailed Medusa, and the breathtaking modern artistry woven into every corner. Pristine white paint coated the vast interior and exterior walls, complemented by eccentric, ultra-luxury furniture that defied conventional design.

"Sit down. Wait for me here," she instructed Jarren, her footsteps echoing sharply against the polished stone. Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Corpuz, I will be back."

Before he could process the command, a pair of impeccably dressed housemaids appeared quietly at his side, offering polite, welcoming bows before instantly melting away to resume their silent duties.

As the hours dragged on, an overwhelming wave of boredom washed over Jarren. The diligent maids had ensured he was well taken care of, serving him an exquisite, multi-course lunch at midday followed by an elaborate spread of afternoon pastries and tea. Yet, despite the passing of the hours, Luciana had not descended from the cavernous expanse of the second-floor living quarters.

Night eventually fell, painting the towering windows in deep, inky shades of navy and black. Jarren found himself repeatedly glancing up toward the peak of the spiraling mahogany staircase, searching in vain for even a fleeting shadow of the enigmatic woman who had brought him here.

He lowered his gaze to check his wristwatch, a low hiss escaping his lips as he realized the advanced hour. The night was growing far too deep, and he still needed to find a way to return home.

"Damn it," he whispered to the empty, cavernous room.

The sudden, piercing chime of his phone shattered the quiet. He swiftly fished the device from the deep pocket of his wool coat, his heart skipping a beat when the screen illuminated Caller ID to reveal Nerissa’s name flashing insistently. Without hesitation, he pressed accept.

"Jarren, you owe me a complete explanation right now!" she demanded, the shrill edge of her voice cutting straight through the receiver.

"An explanation about what, Nerissa?!" he countered, the fragile remnants of excitement he usually felt when hearing her voice instantly evaporating. In that bitter instant, a harsh realization settled deep into his bones. There was no longer any reason to feel a single flutter of anticipation when Neri called, knowing full well the conversation would simply devolve into another vicious scolding orchestrated by her influential family.

"About why you had the absolute audacity to slap my brother yesterday, shove him around earlier today, and treat him like dirt!"

"Yes, Nerissa, I slapped him. But..."

"You are a truly despicable human being, Jarren Corpuz! You need to drive over to our house or wherever Niro is right this instant and beg for his forgiveness!"

Jarren swallowed hard, a sharp, heavy ache blooming in his chest as Nerissa’s harsh reprimand echoed directly into his ear. She hadn't even given him a single second to defend himself, casting judgment with absolute, unyielding prejudice.

"Wait, Nerissa, you asked me if I hit him, but did you even bother to ask why any of this happened in the first place?!" he pleaded, desperately trying to pierce through her wall of stubborn fury.

"A reason?! There is no valid reason that could ever justify physical violence!" She let out an exasperated sigh that hissed through the speaker. "Just apologize to Niro!"

"Listen to me, Neri. I have nothing to apologize for, not to him, and certainly not to anyone else," Jarren retorted firmly, refusing to let his ex-girlfriend continue walking all over his dignity and character.

"Are you seriously going to dig your heels in like this? Is this your pathetic way of coping with our breakup?! Are you trying to exact petty revenge on me and my entire family?!"

Upon hearing those devastating words, Jarren let out a harsh, bitter laugh that echoed sharply off the towering white walls around him. The last remaining threads of illusion shattered, leaving him entirely disillusioned with the woman on the other end of the line. This cold, callous stranger bore no resemblance to the warm, joyful Neri he used to know—the woman who once lit up just hearing his voice, now actively stripping away every cherished memory they had ever built together.

"Just say you are sorry to Niro," she demanded once more, her patience wearing paper thin. "Or else..."

"Or else what? Are you going to run to your new boyfriend, ask him for cash, and hire a hitman to wipe me off the map? Look, Neri, I hurt your brother, and you can do whatever your heart desires in response. But my apology is not something I hand out to people who refuse to see the truth."

Jarren’s grip tightened around the sleek metal casing of his phone until his knuckles turned stark white, the strain so intense he feared the device might snap in half.

Through the trembling silence of the line, he could practically hear the sharp intake of Nerissa’s breath. "You are truly..."

Before she could finish her scathing sentence, Jarren abruptly severed the connection, plunging the room back into sudden, heavy silence as he tossed the phone down onto the oblong obsidian coffee table.

He dropped his head into his hands, burying his face as he planted his heavy elbows firmly against his knees, dragging his trembling palms downward in a desperate, dry wash over his face.

If this were his own home, the overwhelming frustration would have undoubtedly driven him to destruction, shattering decorative vases and flinging expensive ornaments across the floor in a blind rage. But this was not his house. He sat trapped within the fortified walls of Luciana Harolds, the formidable billionaire who had plucked him straight out of the crosshairs of Niro’s security guards earlier that morning and spirited him away into her magnificent fortress.

"You seem incredibly stressed out, Mr. Corpuz," a calm, melodic voice drifted down from the upper landing.

He swallowed hard, an uncomfortable flush of heat rising up his neck as embarrassment washed over him. There was no escaping the harsh reality. Luciana had clearly witnessed, and likely heard every single agonizing syllable of, his explosive phone conversation with Nerissa.