THE REJECTED STONE IS A BILLIONAIRE

1

“Mr. Nathan, we're here by the Authority of the bank from which you took a loan.”

“And since you've been unable to repay your loan, we're ordered to seize your car and properties!”

The words landed like a bombshell. Nathan Wood froze, heart, sinking like a stone in deep water.

“I’m working on it. Just give me a little more time.”

The bank official looked at him with disdain, as if he were a sacrificial offering.

“Orders are orders. The bank’s already waited longer than most. We can’t delay any further.”

Across the sitting room, his wife, Jessica, snapped with sarcasm and impatience.

“See? I told you this would happen!” She stepped into view, arms folded, eyes lit with the cold flame of contempt. “Nothing but debt and excuses. You’re a disgrace, Nathan.”

Nathan turned to the official. “The bank should give me some more time, I'll repay.”

“You've never kept to your words, ever!”

Jessica cut in. “Always excuses upon excuses. You can’t provide, you can’t manage money… You can’t even keep a roof over our heads. What good are you to me?”

The bank official shifted uncomfortably as shame wore Nathan like a garment.

“I’m trying,” he said quietly. “I’ll fix this. I swear.”

Jessica let out a humourless laugh. “Well, it seems to me you're doing otherwise. Thanks to my father, who gave me a job, I wonder how bad it could've gotten.”

Her father, Lord Graymon, was torn in his flesh. The man was a business mogul and a highly connected titan in politics. To Nathan, he was the fuel which had set his marriage aflame; his constant humiliation and insults had given his daughter wings. And the painful part, daily, he keeps reminding himself of how his daughter had settled for less.

The bank officials packed away their documents, their expressions unreadable. “We’re sorry, Mr. Nathan,” one said, though his voice carried no warmth. “We have to follow orders.”

The bank officials went to where his Mercedes was parked, detached a tow rope from their tow-truck, and wheeled the Mercedes away like a prized possession as Nathan watched on, his asset rolling away into the streets of London.

When they left, the silence in the apartment hung like a dark mass. Jessica stood at a corner, too shocked to say anything, and when she finally turned, her verdict was delivered without hesitation. “You’re a shame to me. Just imagine this!”

Nathan was silent; the weight of debt hung over his head like a curse, and his wife was making life difficult, too complicated. On the other hand, his father-in-law, Lord Graymon, as if adding salt to injury, had made him one of the Food tasters — a job that involved tasting any food before being given to Lord Graymon.

Since he became involved in a political web, he had been scared for his life and had taken measures to ensure his safety, including having a Food Taster — and he had chosen Nathan.

Morning after morning, Nathan swallowed bite after bite of Graymon’s meals, each mouthful tinged with suspicion. Evenings brought little relief, Jessica’s absence, or worse, her presence.

Just then, a message buzzed his phone. It was his father-in-law whowas needed at the estate right away.

Nathan slipped into something comfortable and, in no time, was at the estate. He wasn't ready for one of Lord Graymon’s tantrums, and as he walked through the hallway, he could feel the stares before he heard the whispers.

“Look who’s here,” a voice murmured from the hall.

“The family failure,” another replied, just loud enough to carry.

The kitchen was already steaming with thick vapour of assorted meals, from grilled chicken to spiced sauces to mouth-watering appetisers. Itade Nathan's stomach churned, not from hunger, but from the knowledge of what was coming next.

The proud patriarch was already seated at the dining table like some demigod who had lost his way to earth. Also sitting around the table in grandeur were men, senators, politicians and lawmakers who had come to have dinner and talk about industry-specific politics.

His gaze, like a sniper, was locked on Nathan.

“Bring the platter,” Graymon ordered, voice clipped.

Graymon’s gaze was sharp. “Test everything. If there’s poison, you’ll know it before I do. Fail… and you’ll be buried with the evidence.”

As the Chief Taster, Nathan carried the platter, already steaming with food. He took a bite here, a sip there and a munch, forcing himself to chew slowly. The taste was rich but heavy, the weight of expectation making it feel like swallowing stones.

Graymon watched him the entire time, curiosity written on his face.

When he was finally done, Graymon gave a slight, curt nod. “You did well. But don’t confuse survival with success.”

A message notification dropped in his phone. It was his wife, Jessica.

"Don't bother contacting me, Silas and I have plans for the day."

Silas? He wished it was not true…but. That name had been ringing a bell for some days now, and he had chosen to debunk the rumour that his wife had begun seeing another man. He hoped it was just a rumour.

Nathan’s steps slowed.

The apartment was cold and empty when he arrived. Jessica wasn’t there; she had left, certainly to spend time with her new lover.

On the kitchen table was pinned a note, written in hurried scrawl. He unfolded the note slowly and read:

I’m done, Nathan. This is not the quality of life I had wished for myself. I’m moving in with Silas. Don’t try to contact me.

For some minutes, everything stood still, and even his breath was on hold. He was slowly losing his marriage and his properties, then this?

He was jolted to reality by a notification ping on his phone. A message from his bank:

"In line with New York Bank Collateral policy, due to your outstanding loan, we will be forced to seize your house anytime soon."

Nathan froze. Everything was happening at once, and he was overwhelmed.

God.