THE JANITOR HUSBAND IS NOW A CENTIMILLIONAIRE KING

CHAPTER 2

Alexander slipped the ancient ring onto his finger.

The dark stone caught the dim morning light, and the carved runes seemed to move when he stared at them.

Shaking off the unease, Alexander grabbed his jacket and headed out.

The bank wasn’t far—a tall building of glass and steel, its name, Dominion Trust, written in gold above the entrance.

A place for the elite, not for a janitor like him. But he wasn’t here to belong.

He was here to prove Vanessa wrong.

Alexander’s old boots scraped the pavement, and his flannel shirt drew stares from people who seemed to notice his poverty.

He ignored them, his mind stuck on Lila’s face—her hesitation, the brief look before she left with Victor.

Three years of love, reduced to a manila envelope. His chest hurt, but he pushed the feeling aside. There was no time for that now.

Alexander stopped at the entrance as the rotating doors let out men in suits and women in heels, all walking with the confidence of the rich.

Just get it over with, he stepped inside.

The lobby was stunning with crystal chandeliers, floors polished like mirrors, tellers in neat uniforms staring at him as if he didn’t belong.

Before he could reach the counter, a familiar voice broke through the quiet hum of the lobby.

“Well, look who’s slumming it where he doesn’t belong.” Margaret, Lila’s mother, stood by a velvet rope, her fur-trimmed coat out of place in the morning heat.

Her daughter Clara was beside her, lips curled in a sneer that matched her expensive dress.

Their eyes scanned Alexander’s worn clothes, their judgment cutting like broken glass.

“Margaret, Clara,” Alexander said, his voice flat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” He moved to step past, but Margaret blocked his path, her perfume choking him.

“Don’t play coy,” she snapped.

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face after yesterday. Signing those papers doesn’t mean you get to linger like a cockroach. Pack your things and get out of Lila’s house, or I’ll have your junk thrown into the street.”

Clara laughed, a high, grating sound.

“Honestly, Alexander, what are you even doing here? This is Dominion Trust, not some pawn shop. You think you can just waltz in like you belong?”

Alexander’s jaw tightened. “I’m here for business. Leave it alone.”

“Business?” Margaret scoffed, loud enough to draw eyes from nearby clients.

“You? A janitor? Don’t make me laugh. You’re nothing, Alexander. Lila’s finally free of you, moving up to someone like Victor Holt, who actually has a future.”

Hearing Victor’s name stung, bringing back his smug grin from yesterday. Alexander’s hand twitched.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, stepping toward the teller line again.

Margaret’s eyes locked on the ring, narrowing.

“What’s that?” She lunged forward, her manicured nails reaching for his hand.

“Where did you get that? Did you steal it from Lila? You think you can take anything from our family?”

Alexander yanked his hand back, his heart pounding.

“It’s mine. Back off.” Margaret grabbed again, her fingers grazing his wrist. He dodged, but she overreached, her heel catching on the slick floor.

She stumbled, crashing to her knees with a yelp, her purse spilling lipsticks and keys across the marble.

Clara screamed and dropped to her mother’s side.

“You pushed her! You attacked my mother!” Bank clients looked up, whispering while the security guards started moving from their posts. Margaret clutched her ankle, her face twisted in exaggerated pain.

“Security! This man assaulted me! Arrest him!”

Two guards in black uniforms approached, their faces hard.

“Sir, step back,” one barked, hand on his radio. Alexander raised his hands.

“I didn’t touch her,” he said, his voice steady despite the crowd’s stares. “I’m here to check an account. That’s all.”

Clara laughed, venomously. “An account? At Dominion Trust? You’re delusional. This is the most prestigious bank in the country. You need a million just for a bronze card. Platinum’s ten million, diamond’s a hundred.And the supreme black?” She smirked, flashing a bronze card from her purse.

“That’s a billion and up. Victor got us one of these, but you? You’re nothing but a broke nobody.”

Margaret, still on the floor, nodded smugly. “Get him out of here. He’s wasting everyone’s time.”

Alexander’s blood boiled, their words stabbing more than Lila’s divorce papers.

He was tired—tired of being dismissed, tired of being less.

Vanessa’s voice echoed again: “It’s your truth.”

He reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around the black card.

“Fine,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see about that.”

He held up the card. The crowd went quiet. Clara’s smirk disappeared, her eyes widening. Margaret’s jaw dropped, her fake pain forgotten.

“That’s… impossible,” she stammered. “A supreme black card? You?”

A teller gasped, alerting a manager who hurried over, his polished shoes clicking frantically.

The manager, a wiry man with a name tag reading “Mr. Ellison,” took the card with trembling hands.

“Sir, may I…?” He scanned it at a terminal, his face draining of color as the screen flickered. Numbers scrolled, too many zeros to count.

He stared at Alexander, then back at the screen, his voice barely a whisper. “Mr. Warrick… this account… it’s beyond our highest tier.”

The lobby fell silent, everyone seemed stunned. Clara’s bronze card slipped from her fingers, and it hit the floor with a clatter.

Margaret scrambled to her feet, ignoring her “injury,” her eyes locked on Alexander like he’d grown horns.

The guards froze, unsure what to do. The clients whispered and pointed, their looks no longer full of scorn but of amazement.

Alexander’s heart raced, the card’s weight now a reality, not a delusion.

One billion? More? Who was he before? And why did that ring feel… alive?

The ring felt warm on his finger, and the runes seemed to hum, as if coming to life after a long sleep.

Vanessa’s story wasn’t a lie.

He wasn’t just Alexander, the janitor. 

But who was Alexanderiel Warrick? And what had he left behind?