THE HEIR'S VENDETTA

CHAPTER 007

In the dimly lit boutique, Alphonse dedicated himself to his work, the soft swish of his mop a constant in the quiet store. He had taken the job out of sheer necessity, the weight of his mother's medical bills and his own survival pressing down on him. 

Each stroke of the mop was a silent vow to overcome the hardships that had befallen him, to rise above the scorn and betrayal of those he once called family.

As he moved with a quiet intensity, lost in his thoughts and the monotony of his task, he failed to notice the entrance of a couple. The boutique, known for its exclusive clientele, was the perfect shopping ground for those draped in wealth and arrogance. Alphonse, absorbed in his work, inadvertently pushed his mop bucket into the woman's path.

The collision was minor, but the woman's reaction was anything but.

"Argh!" 

She let out a shriek that pierced the calm atmosphere of the boutique, drawing the attention of everyone present. Alphonse's head snapped up at the sound, his eyes widening in shock as he registered the source of the commotion; It was none other than Vivian.

Vivian's face contorted in anger as she stared down at the water splashed onto her expensive shoes,

 "You clumsy fool!" she spat, her lips curling in disgust.

 Geoffrey stood beside her, a smirk playing on his lips, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

Alphonse's heart hammered in his chest, a mix of surprise, pain, and humiliation swirling within him. Seeing Vivian, the woman he had loved, now openly flaunting her disdain for him alongside another man, was a blow he hadn't been prepared for.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't see—" Alphonse began, his voice barely above a whisper, but Vivian cut him off.

"Of course, you didn't see, you never see anything beyond your own failures," she sneered, her words slicing through the air like a knife. 

The other customers, drawn by the commotion, watched with a mix of curiosity and amusement,

"Wow, she's harsh," someone muttered from the back, shaking his head.

Geoffrey leaned in, his voice dripping with condescension,

"It seems you've found your true calling, Alphonse. Cleaning floors suits you better than trying to be part of a family that was always out of your league."

Alphonse clenched his fists at his sides, the knuckles turning white. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and rage,

 The urge to lash out was strong, but he knew any outburst would only cost him his job, the only lifeline he had left.

"I'm sorry, Vivian," 

Alphonse repeated, his voice low but firm, attempting to diffuse the situation with dignity.

Vivian's eyes flashed with fury, her voice rising,

 "Your apologies mean nothing. Clean my feet!" she demanded, extending a foot clad in an expensive shoe towards him, expecting him to bow down in front of the gathering crowd.

Alphonse felt a surge of anger. The humiliation of her request was more than he could bear.

 He stood up straight, locking eyes with Vivian, his resolve hardening,

 "I am here to clean the floors, not to serve at your feet," he declared, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

The boutique fell even quieter, if possible, as customers and staff alike absorbed the defiance in Alphonse's stance. 

For a moment, Vivian seemed taken aback, her face reddening further, a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

Geoffrey stepped forward, his smirk replaced by a scowl,

"Look at you, standing up for yourself. How quaint," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. 

"Seems you've forgotten your place, Alphonse."

Alphonse's fists clenched at his sides, the urge to lash outgrowing. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within him,

“My place is no longer at Vivian's feet, nor at the mercy of any of you," he retorted, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

Vivian's eyes widened in shock at his audacity. She stepped forward, her hand raised, and before Alphonse could react, she slapped him across the face,

The sound echoed in the boutique, drawing gasps from the onlookers,

"You will regret speaking to me like that," she hissed, her eyes blazing.

Alphonse touched his cheek, feeling the sting of the slap. Anger and humiliation warred within him, but he stood his ground, refusing to give Vivian the satisfaction of seeing him crumble.

Embarrassed and infuriated by Alphonse's defiance, Vivian spun around, her eyes scanning the boutique for the manager. Geoffrey, sensing an opportunity for revenge, placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, though his eyes gleamed with malice. 

"Where is your manager? This incompetence cannot stand," Vivian demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. The staff, who had been trying to pretend they weren't watching the scene unfold, suddenly became very interested in the floor.

Geoffrey, enjoying the drama, added fuel to the fire,

 "Yes, we must speak to the manager immediately. This is unacceptable behavior from an employee."

A hush fell over the boutique as the manager, a middle-aged man with a perpetually worried look, hurried over. His eyes darted between the angry couple and Alphonse, sensing the tension in the air. 

"What seems to be the problem here?" the manager asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the anxiety clawing at his stomach.

Vivian, her voice dripping with disdain, wasted no time. "Your employee," she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Alphonse, "has been incredibly rude and even threatened us. We demand action."

Geoffrey nodded in agreement, his smirk now a grim line. "Yes, he was very aggressive. It's unacceptable. We're loyal customers, and if you don't fire him, we'll make sure everyone knows about this. Your reputation will be ruined."

The manager's forehead beaded with sweat as he processed their words. His gaze flickered to Alphonse, who stood firm, though his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. 

Alphonse tried to interject, 

"That's not what happened—"

But Vivian cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand,

 "Are you calling us liars?" she challenged, her eyes flashing dangerously.

The manager, caught between a rock and a hard place, hesitated.

 The thought of losing customers, especially ones as influential as Vivian and Geoffrey, sent a chill down his spine,

He swallowed hard, his decision made under the weight of fear and pressure.

"I'm sorry, Alphonse," 

The manager began, his voice betraying the conflict within him. He avoided Alphonse's gaze, focusing instead on a spot just over his shoulder,

 "You're fired, effective immediately. We cannot afford to upset our cusotmers."

Alphonse's heart sank. The words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily breathless.