The Kingmaker Ex-Husband: Trillionaire in the Shadows

Items Discarded from the Emerald Hills Villa

At eight o’clock sharp that morning in the upmarket Emerald Hills housing estate, Block A-12, the cool mountain air was still shrouded in a thin mist. However, the tranquillity of the magnificent European-classical-style villa complex was suddenly shattered by a commotion coming from the front garden of the Caldwell family’s residence.

Two domestic staff members in grey uniforms were seen throwing an old, dull brown leather suitcase and two plastic bags containing simple clothing from the main marble terrace. The items tumbled down the concrete steps, then scattered across the lawn still damp with morning dew near the wrought-iron gate.

On the first-floor marble terrace, Margaret Caldwell was sitting comfortably in a luxurious rattan chair, sipping a cup of hot coffee. To her right stood the Caldwells’ second son, thirty-year-old Logan Caldwell, his silk shirt collar open as he smoked an expensive cigar. Logan’s wife, Brenda Caldwell, was also sitting there, her legs crossed, wearing fur-lined sandals from a foreign brand.

“Throw all that useless rubbish out onto the kerb!” Margaret ordered her two servants in a sharp tone.

“Make sure not a single item belonging to that jinxed courier is left inside this house! I don’t want the fresh air in our family villa tainted by the stench of poverty from that former tramp of a courier!” Margaret continued with a scornful snort.

Logan Caldwell exhaled the smoke from his cigar into the air with a condescending laugh. As Director of the Caldwell Group’s Property Division, Logan had always looked down on Damian Cross from the very first day the young man set foot in this house.

“Don’t worry, Mum, last night I had someone check every room at the back where he sleeps,” said Logan with a smug smile.

“Apart from that rickety suitcase and those cheap clothes from the flea market, he doesn’t own a single valuable item. It’s absolutely ridiculous to think that a man like that was once part of our family for three years,” Logan added, glancing at the bundle of clothes by the fence.

“Darling, don’t waste your time talking about a lowlife like him,” Brenda interjected, stroking the gold bracelet on her wrist.

“Today is a historic day for our extended family! Caldwell Bio-Tech shares are set to soar at the stock market opening in an hour’s time. And this afternoon, Young Master Julian Kingsley will be inviting us all to celebrate our success at the Starlight Diamond Auction Hall!” continued Brenda, a proud smile spreading across her face.

Shortly afterwards, the roar of a black saloon car’s engine could be heard approaching from the estate’s main road. A modest Toyota saloon came to a halt in front of the iron gate, which was half-open. The car was a company vehicle driven by Kaelen Mercer, who had been specifically instructed by Damian to park it a little way off, round the bend, so as not to attract undue attention.

The passenger door opened slowly. Damian Cross stepped out of the car wearing a black long-sleeved cotton shirt, the sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows, and crisp dark trousers. His face looked fresh and utterly calm, radiating an inner tranquillity that stood in stark contrast to the chaotic atmosphere in the courtyard of the Caldwell residence.

Damian stepped onto the grassy grounds. His purpose in returning to this villa that morning was not to beg for mercy or to fight over the division of the estate, but simply to retrieve the only valuable item left behind: an old, carved mahogany box that had belonged to the late Arthur Caldwell.

Seeing Damian arrive, Margaret and Brenda simultaneously set their coffee cups down on the glass table with a harsh clatter. Tyler Caldwell, who had just come down from the second floor with a wobbly gait whilst clutching his head still reeling from the hangover after last night’s party immediately leaned over the terrace balcony railing.

“Look who’s come crawling back!” shouted Tyler, laughing derisively from the balcony.

“Has the ten-thousand-dollar severance pay you tore up last night made you so desperately regretful that you’ve had to come back begging for your old clothes, Damian?!” taunted Tyler in a loud voice.

Damian did not even glance towards the balcony where Tyler was leaning. His gaze was fixed straight ahead on a medium-sized mahogany box lying next to his old suitcase on the grass. That box, with its brass fastenings, was a keepsake given directly to Damian by the Great Lord Arthur Caldwell just before his grandfather breathed his last in hospital three years ago.

Damian slowly bent down, picked up the mahogany box, then carefully wiped away the dewdrops and dirt clinging to its surface with the palm of his hand.

Logan Caldwell strode down the porch steps with a firm gait, followed by Brenda and Margaret, who were staring at Damian with looks of utter disgust. In Logan’s right hand was a light blue folder sealed with the family solicitor’s stamp.

“Damian Cross!” Logan snapped, coming to a halt two metres in front of Damian.

“You think you can come and go as you please from the Caldwell family residence, do you?!” exclaimed Logan, waving the folder in his hand.

Damian straightened his posture once more, clutching the mahogany box to his left arm. His cold eyes fixed on Logan without a trace of fear.

“I’m simply taking what belongs to me the belongings of the late Lord Arthur. My business in this house ended the moment I signed those divorce papers last night,” Damian replied in a very calm tone.

“Belongs to you?! How dare you speak of ‘belonging’!” Margaret interjected, stepping forward with a fierce glare.

“Even a single thread that leaves the gates of this house belongs to the Caldwell family! For three years you’ve been living off us for free, without a shred of shame! Now that my company is worth three hundred million dollars, don’t ever dream of claiming a single penny of the fortune!” Margaret ranted in a shrill voice.

Logan gave a sly grin as he opened the blue folder of documents in his hand and thrust it right in front of Damian’s chest.

“Our family solicitor has drawn up this absolute asset release agreement,” Logan said in a threatening tone.

“This document clearly states that you are relinquishing all rights to shares, dividends and property assets belonging to the Caldwell Group. Furthermore, there is a compensation clause for fifty thousand US dollars that you must pay to our family to cover the cost of your board and lodging during the three years you’ve been staying here, should you dare to leak any internal company secrets!” Logan declared firmly, holding out a pen towards Damian.

“Sign this letter right now if you don’t want me to drag you to the police station on charges of embezzling family documents!” snapped Logan.

Damian glanced briefly at the sheet of paper demanding fifty thousand dollars in compensation, then a very cold, faint smile played at the corner of his lips.

“Demanding fifty thousand dollars from me?” muttered Damian as he looked Logan up and down.

“Logan, three years ago, when your apartment project in the Western District was threatened with repossession by the bank because you’d defrauded the buyers, who was it who secretly injected a bailout through a consortium of guarantors so you wouldn’t end up in prison?” asked Damian in a soft tone that nevertheless cut straight to Logan’s heart.

Logan’s face suddenly froze for a moment upon hearing Damian’s words. However, his pride and arrogance quickly masked his shock.

“What utter nonsense are you on about, you tramp?!” retorted Logan, raising his voice to mask his panic.

“It’s all down to my own hard work and capital loans from my banking partners! You’re just a lowly courier who knows nothing about high-level business!” snapped Logan, his eyes reddening.

Just then, the sound of graceful footsteps could be heard descending the terrace stairs. Clarissa Caldwell stepped out of the villa’s main door wearing an ivory-coloured women’s business suit that fit her perfectly, paired with matching high heels and a limited-edition leather handbag. Her beautiful face was flawlessly made up, radiating the aura of a top-tier career woman at the height of her success.

“What on earth is this now, Logan? Why are you still entertaining this man in our garden?” asked Clarissa, coming to a halt beside her mother.

Clarissa’s eyes glanced briefly towards the mahogany box Damian was clutching. Deep down in her heart, Clarissa knew full well that the wooden box was a memento of her grandfather, which Damian cherished most. However, the pride and ambition for elite status that now clouded her mind made her choose to act as cold as ice.

“Clarissa, look at your ex-husband! He’s refusing to sign the asset release agreement and is even rambling on, claiming he once saved my project!” Logan complained, trying to stir up trouble.

Clarissa took a deep breath as she looked at Damian with a gaze filled with embarrassment and feigned pity.

“Damian, I told you last night, our standing is now worlds apart,” said Clarissa in a measured, flat tone.

“This morning at nine o’clock sharp, Caldwell Bio-Tech’s initial public offering will be launched on the Wallcrest Stock Exchange. My company’s value will soar to hundreds of millions of dollars. And this afternoon, Julian Kingsley and I have been specially invited to sign a strategic partnership agreement and the licence extension for the Nano-Cell V7 formula in the presence of the board of directors of Apex Sovereign Holdings,” Clarissa continued with a tone brimming with pride.

“Once the contract formalities are complete, Julian will take me to attend the most prestigious diamond auction at the Starlight Diamond Auction Hall. The world I walk in today is not a place where someone like you could ever dream of reaching, Damian,” Clarissa added.

“So take that wooden box left by my grandfather and get as far away from my life as possible. Never show your face to me again, nor anywhere near my company’s offices, so that neither of us has to embarrass ourselves in front of my business associates,” concluded Clarissa, straightening the collar of her white jacket.

Hearing every haughty word that came from his ex-wife’s lips, Damian was neither angry nor offended. In his eyes, Clarissa and her family were now no different from a group of children dancing joyfully on a pile of dry straw that was about to be engulfed by a raging fire.

Damian’s right hand rose slowly, rolling up the sleeve of his black shirt slightly to glance at the watch on his wrist.

A mechanical watch with a white gold case, an intricate sapphire dial and a black crocodile leather strap sat perfectly on Damian’s wrist. The watch was a limited-edition Patek Philippe Grandmaster Chime masterpiece, valued at three and a half million US dollars ($3,500,000 USD).

Tyler, still leaning against the second-floor balcony, glanced at the watch, then laughed derisively, his voice ringing out loudly.

“Hahaha! Look at the fake watch he’s wearing! The hands move like a cheap twenty-dollar fairground trinket! He’s absolutely desperate to look rich after being divorced by my sister!” exclaimed Tyler, laughing at Damian’s watch alongside Brenda.

Damian paid no heed to Tyler’s taunts. The long hand of the luxury watch on his wrist moved calmly, indicating 8.55 am.

Exactly five minutes to go until nine o’clock, the time when the Wallcrest stock exchange opened and his absolute orders to Central Bank Director Raymond Holt and the Apex Bio-Labs central laboratory would come into effect.

Damian pulled the sleeve of his black shirt back down as he gazed straight into Clarissa’s eyes with a faint smile that was both icy and mysterious.

“Three years ago, your grandfather told me to teach you how to appreciate the foundations of life before enjoying the splendour of its pinnacle,” said Damian in a voice so calm yet resonant that it echoed throughout the villa’s grounds.

“It’s a great pity, Clarissa… you’d rather be dazzled by the reflection in someone else’s window than see who has all this time been propping up the pillars of your house to keep it from collapsing,” Damian continued.

“Savour the last five minutes of all the illusory glory you’ve been boasting about today. For once that time is up, not even your tears of blood will ever be able to undo what you’ve cast aside,” Damian stated firmly as he turned away calmly.

Clarissa stood frozen on her terrace, her chest suddenly feeling tight as she heard Damian’s words so cold and piercing to the heart.

Damian strode resolutely away from the marble terrace, clutching tightly the mahogany box that had belonged to the late Arthur Caldwell, and walked leisurely towards the iron gate of the courtyard.

At the very moment the hands of the Patek Philippe watch on Damian’s wrist reached 9.00 am, as he stepped through the outer gate, the silence of the Emerald Hills housing estate was suddenly shattered by the piercing ring of a mobile phone.

‘Trrrriiing! Trrrriiing! Trrrriiing!’

It was not just one mobile phone ringing, but two at once. Clarissa Caldwell’s executive work mobile, inside her handbag, and Logan Caldwell’s personal mobile, on the terrace table, rang out loudly in unison, carrying an emergency call with the highest priority code from their head office in the Financial District.