The God of War Comeback

Chapter 5

Angela looked at him after they had left the hall. Although she felt a pang of doubt in his words about the money, she couldn't hide the excitement in her heart that she wouldn't be getting married to the Clinton heir.

She brought him straight to the house where she lived. After what happened years back, her family considered her a shame and took everything from her, including her position in the company.

The only thing left for her was her son, whom she had prayed would be alright.

And at that moment her phone buzzed, another call from the hospital. She immediately answered.

"Please, tell me he is alright."

The doctor who had been rude earlier spoke with fear and respect in his voice. "Hello, ma'am.”

Angela wasn't interested because she wanted to know the condition of her son. "How is my son? Please say something."

"Your son is fine. As we speak, he has been taken to a private ward where he is being taken care of by the best nurses."

A notification popped on her screen the moment the call ended, and it was a video of her son in the hospital bed. Tears of joy rolled down her eyes.

Alfred stared at her at that moment and didn't say anything.

She then raised her head to look at Alfred. "Thank you so much. " She whispered, although she still wondered how he did that.

"I didn't know we had a son!"

She sighed deeply. "I was a week pregnant before the wedding. I wanted to tell you after the wedding, but everything didn't go as planned."

Alfred bit the side of his lips. "I'm sorry you have to go through all this pain after I left. You don't have to worry anymore; I will take care of you and our son."

She sighed deeply, but then asked, "Are you going to ask your adopted family for assistance? I mean the hundred million dollars."

He looked at her and laughed; she had no idea who he was.

"I won't; I have my way. Don't worry, we are going to get through this."

"I'm worried; you don't have a job. How would you raise a hundred million dollars to cancel the contract?" She asked with worry.

"I will call a few contacts that owe me a favour and ask them to help me with the money." He repeated.

He knew he couldn't tell her the truth that he wasn't in prison all those years, and that he was not broke the way everyone thought he was...

~~~

The following day they arrived at the bank; it rose in front of them like a wall of glass and gold, catching the morning sun and throwing it back in blinding streaks across the pavement.

Angela clutched her purse tighter against her chest as they stepped through the revolving doors, her heart still racing from everything that had happened the night before and a hundred million dollars. The number kept echoing in her head, refusing to feel real. She still couldn't wrap her mind around how a man who had walked out of prison with nothing could speak about that kind of money so calmly, but something about the steadiness in his eyes made her want to believe him anyway.

"You said you have a friend here," she said softly, glancing sideways at him as they crossed the marble lobby. "Are you sure he'll help us? We don't have much time left."

Alfred said simply, his voice low. "He'll help."

She studied him as they walked, the way he moved through the building like he had built it himself. Nothing about him matched the broken man the newspapers had written about four years ago. Nothing about him matched a man who had spent years locked behind bars either. She wanted to ask him a hundred questions: how he survived, how he got out, and how he was able to make the call that saved their son, but something told her now wasn't the time.

They were led up to the executive floor, past rows of glass-walled offices where junior bankers glanced up from their desks and quickly looked away again, sensing something in the air they couldn't name. A receptionist stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and knocked twice.

"Mr. Hughes, Mr. Hastings will see you now."

The door swung open. A man in his forties rose from behind a wide mahogany desk, a grin breaking across his face the instant he saw Alfred standing in the doorway.

"I don't believe it." Julius came around the desk fast and shook hands with Alfred. "Alfred Hughes, back from prison, six years, and not one word from you. I thought I'd lost you for good, my friend."

"I'm hard to kill, Julius." A faint smile tugged at the corner of Alfred's mouth, the first real one Angela had seen since he'd set foot to save her.

"Sit, please, both of you." Julius gestured toward the chairs across from his desk, his eyes flicking to Angela with open curiosity before returning to Alfred. "Tell me what you need. Whatever it is, I'll do my best."

"I have land," Alfred said, sliding a thick folder across the polished desk. "Property I held under a different name while I was away. I need it liquidated, or used as collateral. I need a hundred million dollars within two days."

The truth was, he could have had the money within a few minutes with one phone call. But he wanted it to look like a struggle; he wanted Angela to believe he had fought for it, sold pieces of himself to get it, so she wouldn't start asking questions he wasn't ready to answer yet.

Julius's eyebrows lifted as he flipped through the documents, his expression sliding from surprise into something closer to disbelief. "This is," He stopped mid-sentence, running a finger down a column of numbers, then flipping back a page to check it again. "Alfred, I could have this processed by tomorrow morning. I just need to run it through valuation first, confirm the figures, and" he paused.

"Also, you should know," he added, closing the folder slowly, "we don't usually release funds this large so quickly. Even for old friends, normally it would take a week, maybe longer."

"We're asking because it's urgent," Alfred said, his voice steady.

Julius's gaze drifted from the folder to Angela, and he stopped listening to whatever Alfred said next. His eyes travelled over her slowly, without shame, the way a man looks at something he thinks he already owns.

"Hello, beautiful." He leaned forward slightly. "What's your name?"

Alfred's jaw locked, a muscle jumping beneath his skin, but Angela squeezed his hand under the desk before he could speak.

"Angela," she answered, keeping her voice even, though her stomach had already begun to turn.

"You're pretty, sweetheart. Got a nice body on you too." Julius's hand stretched toward her across the desk, but she didn't move an inch.

She only glanced at Alfred.

"She's my wife, Julius." Alfred's voice dropped, sharp as a blade wrapped in velvet. "We're here for business; let's keep it there."

Julius leaned back in his chair, his easy smile fading into something colder. "Your wife." He nodded slowly, almost mockingly.

"I see. Well, Alfred, things have changed since you've been gone. Your property alone isn't enough to justify a loan this size. You just walked out of prison after years inside, forgive me for saying it, but I don't think you have the means to pay this back. However." He tapped his fingers against the desk. "I do have another option for you."

"Which is?" Alfred's brow lifted, his voice low.

"Your wife. I'll approve the loan if you agree to let her stay with me for two months."

Angela's whole body went cold; the colour drained from her face. She couldn't believe the words that had just left his mouth, couldn't believe he'd said them so casually, like he was offering a discount on interest rates.

Alfred slammed his fist against the desk so hard the folder jumped, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot.

"Are you out of your mind?"