The Lost Heir: Trials of an Empire Reclaimed

Chapter 007

Damien smirked, leaning casually against the counter like this was just another show for his amusement.

"He's lying," Damien said as the policeman was about to give Silas the phone to call, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Whatever sob story he’s cooking up, it’s pathetic. Probably stole that card off someone who actually matters."

Silas glared but stayed silent. It was obvious his words didn’t seem to matter here.

The double doors to the lobby swung open. A man in a sharp suit strode in, exuding authority. His presence alone silenced the murmurs in the room.

“What’s going on here?” His baritone voice was calm but carried weight. The kind of voice that didn’t need to yell to command attention.

The receptionist perked up, straightening her posture. “Mr. Whitman! Thank goodness you’re here.”

“Explain,” Whitman said, his eyes scanning the scene.

The receptionist gestured at Silas, her tone laced with disdain.

“This man tried to book a room using a stolen card. We called security, and they caught him before he could cause more trouble.”

Silas scoffed, the sound bitter. “Stolen? I didn’t steal anything, that card is mine! This isn’t security—it’s bullying.”

Whitman turned his gaze to Silas, studying him for a moment. “Your card, you say?” He asked him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes,” Silas said firmly. “And if this is how your staff treats guests, I regret ever stepping foot in here.”

Whitman’s face remained neutral as he shifted his attention back to the receptionist. “Do you have any proof of this accusation?”

The receptionist blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Well, he-he-he doesn’t look like someone who would have a card like that.” She stammered already under pressure.

“And Damien here—he vouched for the fact that this man’s a known thief.” The receptionist quickly added trying to redeem herself.

Whitman raised an eyebrow. “Damien?”

Damien stepped forward, his smirk unwavering. “That’s right. I know Silas. He’s nothing but a low-life who’s been leeching off others for years. Trust me, I’ve seen it firsthand. There’s no way on earth that he can own such a card.”

Silas’s fists clenched tighter. “You don’t know anything about me, Damien.”

Whitman held up a hand, silencing them both. “Let’s stick to the facts. What concrete evidence do you have that this card doesn’t belong to him?”

The receptionist stammered, looking between Whitman and Damien for support. “I—I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Just look at him!”

Whitman’s gaze hardened. “So, none. You have no proof, no evidence whatsoever, only assumptions?”

The receptionist faltered, her confidence crumbling. “Well, no, but—”

“No buts,” Whitman interrupted. He turned to the guards. “And you? You’ve pinned this man to the ground based on baseless accusations? Without making investigations and due diligence?”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.

Whitman’s tone grew sharper. “You’re officers of the law. Your job is to uphold justice, and make sure the rights of citizens are protected, not do the opposite and participate in mob behavior. Do better.”

Damien let out a low chuckle. “With all due respect, Mr. Whitman, you’re being too kind. Silas is playing you. He’s good at it. Probably got a sob story ready to go if you’d like to hear it.”

Whitman ignored him. He turned to the receptionist. “You’re fired. Effective immediately. The next time I see you set foot here will land you in jail.”

Her eyes widened. “Sir, please—”

“Leave,” Whitman said coldly.

Damien stepped forward, indignation flashing across his face. “You’re seriously going to take his side? Over me? Do you even know who I am?”

“I do,” Whitman said with a demeaning look on his face. “And you’re no longer welcome in my hotel. Leave, or I’ll have security escort you out.”

Damien opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Whitman’s icy gaze landed on him.

He sneered, muttered something under his breath, and stormed out.

Whitman then addressed the officers. “Your services are no longer required here. I suggest you reconsider how you handle similar situations in the future. A call from me to your boss can permanently relieve you of your duties.”

The officers released Silas and left without another word, clearly embarrassed.

Whitman adjusted his cuffs, his calm demeanor returning. “Mr. Silas, I apologize for this unfortunate incident.”

Silas blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. “You believe me?”

“I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt,” Whitman said. “And I don’t tolerate injustice in my establishment.”

Silas hesitated. “Thank you.”

Whitman nodded. “As an apology, I’d like to offer you a stay in our best suite. It’s on the house.”

Silas’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist,” Whitman said with a small smile. “Consider it our way of making amends.”

“Also you can have this back.” He handed the green card back to Silas. Silas exhaled slowly, the weight on his chest finally lifting. “Alright. Thank you.”

As Whitman gestured for another staff member to assist Silas, the lobby slowly returned to its usual calm.

But for Silas, this was more than a simple resolution. It was a reminder that even in the darkest moments, justice could prevail.

Maybe not everything was rigged against him