The Castaway Supreme

Chapter 9: The Arrogant Young Master

Julian walked forward with a slow, proud step. He tapped his expensive leather cane against the concrete with a sharp click after every pace. His eyes looked around the small, old diner porch with total disgust, as if he were walking through a pile of rotting garbage.

When he reached the bottom of the wooden steps, he stopped. He looked at Christian’s dirty shirt and torn jeans, and a cruel, mocking laugh came out of his mouth.

What a filthy place, Julian said, his voice high and annoying. And what a filthy person standing here.

Christian stayed perfectly still. He kept his head lowered just a little bit so that his long, messy hair covered the top of his face. He wanted to see what this fool would do.

Vance stood in the shadows near the black SUV, his hands tightening into hard fists. He knew exactly who Julian was. Julian was not part of the Sterling family, but he was a spoiled young master from the prominent Vance family branch that had allied with Christian's corrupt relatives. Julian was a lazy, rich kid who used his family's massive name to bully anyone he wanted.

Julian turned his eyes away from Christian and looked directly at Clara. His arrogant smirk grew much wider, and his eyes filled with an unpleasant, greedy light.

Clara, my sweet girl, Julian said, stepping closer to the porch railing. I told you that you could not run away from me. Look at this pathetic shack. Your father is almost bankrupt, and you are still hiding in this dirty slum. Why are you acting so stubborn.

Get away from here, Master Julian, Clara said, her voice shaking with an intense mix of anger and fear. She moved back, stepping closer to Christian's broad back for protection. I already told you my answer last week. I will never become your mistress. I would rather starve in this diner than take a single dollar from a monster like you.

Julian’s face turned sour for a second, his pride hurt by her words. He slammed his leather cane hard against the wooden railing.

Don't be stupid, girl, Julian snapped, his voice turning angry. You think you have a choice. The Vance family controls all the businesses in this district. If I say you belong to me, then you belong to me. 

Your father’s diner is about to be leveled to the ground anyway. If you don't come to my luxury villa tonight, I will ensure your old father spends the rest of his miserable days begging for scraps on the road.

Peter let out a soft groan, his heart sinking. He had tried so hard to protect his daughter from this rich predator, but the Vance family's name was too massive for a poor diner owner to fight.

Christian listened to every single word. His blood began to boil with a slow, dangerous heat. He remembered Julian now. Before the accident two years ago, Julian was nothing but a low-level manager who used to cry and bow his head to the floor whenever Christian entered the room. 

Now, because Christian was gone, this small rat thought he was the king of the world.

Julian noticed that the quiet beggar in front of him was not moving or shaking with fear. He felt insulted by Christian's calm posture. He pointed his shiny leather cane directly at Christian's nose.

Hey, you dirty bum, Julian shouted, glaring at Christian with pure disgust. Who gave you permission to stand so close to my woman. Look at your clothes. You smell like old dishwater and grease. A piece of trash like you should be crawling in the gutter, not standing on a porch like a man. Get out of this district immediately before I have my driver break your legs and throw you into the river.

Christian raised his head slowly. The coldness in his eyes was so sharp that Julian actually took half a step back without realizing it.

This district does not belong to you, Julian, Christian said. His voice was deep and steady, like a low roll of thunder before a terrible storm.

Julian blinked in surprise. He felt a sudden spike of anger because a common slum beggar dared to speak his name so casually. He did not recognize his former boss at all, because Christian's face was covered in a mix of dark mud, dried blood, and rough scars from the accident.

You dare to speak my name, you worthless pig, Julian roared, his face turning red with anger. You think because you are big, you can talk back to a master of the Vance family. You are nothing. I can buy your entire life with the change in my pocket. You bums only care about one thing anyway, and that is money.

Julian reached into the inside pocket of his expensive white designer suit. He pulled out a sleek, leather checkbook and a heavy gold pen. He opened the book with a loud snap, using his pen to write a number on the clean white paper with quick, aggressive strokes.

He ripped the piece of paper out of the book. It was a check from the biggest bank in the city, and the amount written on it was exactly one million dollars. To a poor person in the slums, that amount of money was like a dream from heaven. It was enough to buy a hundred diners.

Julian held the check between his fingers, a smug, evil smile returning to his face.

See this, beggar. This is one million dollars, Julian said, his voice full of supreme arrogance. This is more money than your entire family lineage will see in ten lifetimes. Take this money and disappear from this city forever. Leave Clara to me, and never let me see your ugly face in this neighborhood again.

Christian did not reach out his hand to touch the paper. He just stared at the check with a look of pure amusement, as if he were looking at a worthless piece of scrap paper.

Julian's anger exploded because Christian was still ignoring his wealth. 

He stepped up the first two wooden stairs, lifted his right hand high, and slapped the wet, white check directly against Christian’s chest like a piece of useless trash.