2025-10-18 18:25:13The air around the parking lot was thick with tension as Salvatore approached Charlie, his men flanking him on both sides like a pack of wolves closing in on prey. The afternoon sun burned down, glinting off the metal chains around their necks and the smirks on their faces.
“Charlie,” Salvatore growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve been avoiding us. Your debt was due twenty-four hours ago. We’ve been searching for you.”
Charlie looked calm, almost amused. “I’m aware,” he said. “I wasn’t on campus for a while.”
Salvatore’s expression darkened. “You dare to default on my loan and talk back? Do you want me to squash you right here unless you pay up—with interest?”
Charlie’s lips curved into a faint smile. ‘How funny.’ Twenty-four hours ago, he had been the one kneeling and begging. But now? He could buy Salvatore—and his entire bloodline—with a single swipe of his card and it won’t even make a dent.
Before Salvatore could reply, a mocking laugh echoed across the lot.
Mr. Wonderful, still lounging proudly against the Lamborghini, folded his arms with arrogant confidence. “Did I hear that right?” he said loudly. “This clown owes money? How shameless can one man be?”
He eyed Salvatore with mild curiosity. “How much does this loser owe you?”
Salvatore glanced at the luxury car, realizing instantly that anyone with a Lamborghini that sleek had power. His tone softened out of respect. “He owes me three thousand dollars, sir. But since he defaulted, it’s now ten thousand.”
Charlie chuckled. “That’s a lie. Our agreement was clear—I still have two hours left before the 24-hour mark is over. Then the 20% daily interest begins.”
Salvatore’s patience snapped. “Shut the hell up! Men of power are talking!”
Gory snorted, stepping beside him. “Charlie, just drop that shameless pride for once. Maybe Mr. Wonderful will help you out.”
Charlie’s gaze flicked to Gory, unimpressed. “I don’t need help paying my debts.”
Mr. Wonderful smirked, sensing an opportunity to humiliate him further. “Tell you what,” he said, his tone dripping with mock generosity. “I’ll help clear your debt. All you have to do is apologize for pretending this car is yours and walk away quietly.”
Charlie’s laughter rolled out soft and deadly. “Apologize? For claiming my car? No. Because it is mine.”
That earned a roar of laughter from everyone present.
Salvatore slapped his thigh, nearly doubling over. “Yours? You borrowed three grand from me two days ago, and now you own a supercar? Did you win the lottery or something?”
Even Vera giggled mockingly. “Charlie, you must be living in some fantasy world—like those Meganovel characters. What’s next? You’re secretly the Charismatic Charlie Wade?”
Charlie smiled faintly. “I’m better than Charlie Wade. I’m the Incredible Charlie Maxwell. But I’ll let the story prove that soon enough.”
The group burst into fresh laughter.
Mr. Wonderful, bored of the talk, waved his hand. “Enough of this nonsense.” He pulled out a stack of cash and handed it to Salvatore. “Here’s ten thousand. His debt’s paid. Now, Charlie, you should thank me. You’ve just witnessed what it means to be a rich man.”
He tilted his head, daring Charlie to speak. “If you don’t, Salvatore and his boys will help you understand gratitude.”
The ladies gasped, clearly impressed. Ten thousand dollars—just like that? If he could throw that kind of money away for someone who insulted him, what could he spend on them?
Salvatore’s eyes glimmered. “Boss, if you ever need men like us—we’re yours.”
Mr. Wonderful laughed. “You’re already employed.”
The group cheered, turning to Charlie with smug faces. “Apologize to our boss!”
Gory ordered. “Now!”
Charlie only smiled. “I pity you all.”
Mr. Wonderful wrapped his arms around the ladies’ waists and grinned wide, the picture of triumph. “You should. Now, crawl away, Charlie.”
Charlie sighed. “Ladies,” he called calmly, “bring my bags.”
Everyone turned as two elegant store attendants appeared, each holding several designer shopping bags and jewelry boxes. They walked straight to Charlie.
The crowd went silent.
Charlie nodded at valet beside him. “Bill the parking ticket to Mr. Wonderful. Since he claims the car’s his, it’s only right.”
The valet who had received the key earlier smiled professionally. “Of course, sir. The parking f*e for the VVIP section is one hundred thousand dollars.”
“What?” Mr. Wonderful blurted, his smile freezing. “A hundred thousand—for parking?”
The guy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Everyone’s jaws dropped. Gory’s eyes widened. Salvatore whistled. Even Vera blinked in disbelief.
Mr. Wonderful’s throat went dry. “This… this is absurd.”
Charlie’s expression didn’t change. “You said the car’s yours. Pay up.”
The crowd started murmuring, enjoying the unfolding humiliation.
Gory snatched the ticket from the valet. “Our boss can handle it. He’s rich.”
Salvatore and his men began cheering again. “Pay it, Boss! Show him real money!”
But Mr. Wonderful’s face was pale now. He couldn’t admit the truth—that the car wasn’t his. Not after bragging this long. He hesitated, but the stares from his new ‘employees’ and the watching crowd burned into his pride.
Finally, sweating bullets, he handed his card to the valet. “Fine. Charge it.”
Beep.
The transaction went through—$100,000 debited in one go.
Charlie chuckled softly. “Thank you, Mr. Wonderful. You’ve now paid $110,000 on my behalf.”
“What do you mean?” Vera demanded. “How—”
“You’ll see,” Charlie interrupted coolly. “Ladies, load the bags into the car.”
The attendants obeyed immediately. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Charlie gave the Lamborghini a simple voice command.
“Open, Maxwell.”
Beep!
The Lamborghini chirped in response, doors unlocking automatically as it said,
“Welcome back, Mr. Maxwell.”
Gasps rippled through the spectators. The car spoke to him.
Mr. Wonderful froze. “T–that’s impossible!”
The car’s console screen lit up with Charlie’s profile photo, confirming ownership.
Charlie turned his gaze on Mr. Wonderful. “You said this car was yours. Then explain this.”
Mr. Wonderful stammered. “Y-you must have hacked it—”
Charlie ignored him and gave another command. “Car, take photos of these people and report an attempted theft to the police.”
The car’s cameras flashed rapidly, taking photos of Mr. Wonderful, Salvatore, Gory, Vera, and the others. Their faces appeared on the car’s display with the label ‘Suspects Identified.’
Mr. Wonderful dropped to his knees instantly. “Please, no! Cancel that order, Charlie! I—I just got out of jail last month—for fraud! I didn’t mean to steal your car. I was just—showing off!”
The crowd burst into murmurs, some laughing, some recording with their phones.
Charlie tilted his head. “That’s not my problem.”
But after letting him sweat for a moment, Charlie said coldly, “Car, abort the report.”
The lights on the dashboard dimmed.
Charlie got into the driver’s seat. The ladies placed the last of his bags in the trunk, then stepped aside. He looked once at the trembling group and smirked.
“Next time you see me,” he said, “remember this feeling.”
The engine roared to life, and the Lamborghini sped away, leaving behind the scent of burnt rubber and broken pride.
Mr. Wonderful watched helplessly as his ‘prestige’ dissolved with the dust trail. He wanted to beg for the $110,000 back—but the shame was already punishment enough.
Salvatore, Gory, and Vera stood frozen, speechless.
After a long silence, Vera fumbled for her phone and called Angela. “You won’t believe this—Charlie’s super rich! I just saw him drive off in a fifty-million-dollar Lamborghini!”
Angela laughed mockingly. “Vera, stop the jokes. Charlie? Rich? That’s impossible.”
“I’m serious! He—”
“Forget him!” Angela snapped. “I’ve got real news. The Grants are about to close a deal with Claire Corporation. Tonight’s party is everything. Their net worth’s about to hit ten billion. And guess what? A representative of the Claire Corporation will be attending!”
Vera frowned. “Claire Corporation? You mean—”
“Yes, the Maxwells. Apparently, their new heir’s running Claire Corporation now.” Angela’s voice dropped into an excited whisper. “Be at the party. This is our chance. Jey told me he’s giving me a million dollars after the deal’s signed.”
Vera tried again, desperate to make her believe. “Angela, I think—”
Angela cut her off. “Stop wasting time on that broke Charlie. He’ll never amount to anything.”
The call ended.
Vera stood there in silence, phone trembling in her hand. The irony was almost cruel.
Because the man Angela had just called “stupid Charlie”…
…was the very heir running Claire Corporation.
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CHAPTER 361
It was Hale.Hale spoke for twenty minutes while Charlie listened with iron discipline and enough patience to get everything out. . Outside, New York blurred past—huge, indifferent, and entirely unaware of the conversation occurring within the black car.When Hale finally finished, Charlie let the silence hang. "Say the last part again," he said.Hale repeated it."You're certain," Charlie said."George told me himself in 2018," Hale replied. "The year he terminated our arrangement. I didn't understand why then. I thought he was just marking the boundaries of what I knew. Now I realize he was telling me because he knew I might eventually need to use it.""He was preparing you," Charlie said."He was preparing everyone," Hale said quietly. "I just didn't know I was one of them."Charlie looked at his hands, thinking of George in 2018—the year he had ended Hale's employment, the year he’d written the letters, the year he’d hidden a thread of truth in a place he knew would hold until the
CHAPTER 360
Charlie flew back the next morning, the jet hanging suspended between the grey clouds and the weight of what he had left behind in London. He thought about his father’s face across the fire—the specific quality of eighteen months and the bitter realization of what it didn't change. It didn't undo the years of betrayal, it didn't bring back Claire, and it didn't ease the new burden Jacy was carrying in New York.What it changed was the geometry of the fight. Bethany Maxwell had found a dying man and built a legal assault on his diminishment. It told Charlie everything he needed to know about her ruthlessness—and what she was willing to burn to win.Marcus sat beside him, spreading out the documents: the name filing, Catherine Holt’s response in London, and the New York counsel’s brief.The filing was a masterpiece of legal architecture. Bethany’s team had built it on three pillars: the Victorian estate records, Arthur Maxwell’s original will, and George’s own confession. The confession
CHAPTER 359
Jacy didn't speak for a long time, and Charlie let the silence run. Outside, the London streets were oblivious to the wreckage sitting inside the car."How long?" Jacy asked finally."Six weeks."Another silence, shorter this time. "Medical grounds," she said. It wasn't a question."Yes.""And Bethany's lawyer filed the release documentation."Charlie went still. "How do you know that?""Because I've spent the last hour pulling everything I can find on Bethany’s New York filings," Jacy said, her voice sharp with a familiar, clinical precision. "I found the Grant connection twenty minutes ago. I was waiting to see if you’d tell me.""You were testing me.""I was giving you the chance to be honest," she corrected. "There’s a difference.""He wants to meet," Charlie said. "Tonight.""And you're going."The silence that followed shifted from professional to deeply personal. "Charlie," Jacy said, "he’s going to try to use you. Whatever arrangement he has with Bethany, he’s going to sit acr
CHAPTER 358
Charlie stared at the name on the screen until the light timed out and the cabin of the car plunged back into shadows. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he tapped the screen to wake it and dialed Joseph."I need you to run a name," he said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. He read the name out—each syllable feeling like a shard of glass in his throat.On the other end of the line, Joseph was silent for three long seconds. For a man who lived and breathed data, three seconds was an eternity. "Where did you get that name, Charlie?" Joseph asked, his tone unusually sharp, stripped of its usual professional distance."A message," Charlie said, watching his own reflection in the darkened window. "Just now. Unknown number."Another silence followed, thicker and more suffocating than the first. "Give me ten minutes," Joseph said, and the line went dead.Charlie leaned forward and spoke to the driver. "Wait here."He sat in the stationa
CHAPTER 357
Ashby came because the guilty always show up. The message Joseph had delivered—*Mr. Maxwell knows everything*—had been the specific kind of bait that a clean man would have questioned and a compromised man would have feared.They met in a private room at a hotel near the Strand. Ashby arrived at three o'clock sharp, sixty-seven years old and carrying more weight than in his foundation portraits. He sat across from Charlie with the rigid, fragile posture of someone who had been holding a secret so long that the secret had begun to consume the man."I want you to know," Ashby began, "that I never intended—""Mr. Ashby," Charlie said, his voice level and quiet. "Don't tell me what you intended. Tell me what you did."Ashby’s hands folded on the table, a picture of forced stillness. He spoke of 2021, of a meeting with Bethany Maxwell three months before he left the board. She hadn’t used money. She hadn’t used threats. She had used the one thing more dangerous: acknowledgment. She knew ab
CHAPTER 356
The small third-floor room near Paddington felt smaller than it was. When Amara Vicker opened the door to Charlie’s knock, her face carried the hollowed-out exhaustion of someone who had been living on adrenaline for seventy-two hours and had finally run out of fuel.She looked younger than her file photo, yet far older than any twenty-year-old should."Come in," she said.Charlie took the chair by the window; Amara sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on her hands."I didn't know what I was doing," she whispered. "When I withdrew, I thought I was protecting my father. Mr. Ashby said if I left quietly, nothing would surface. It would just... go away.""What exactly did he tell you?"She laid it out. Ashby had approached her three weeks ago under the guise of a "governance consultant." He told her an internal review had flagged her scholarship as a conflict of interest due to her father’s ministry position. It was a lie, but it was a surgical one—precise enough to feel like
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