The Majestic Trillionaire Heir, Dave Wayne

chapter 2

Dave wandered upstairs to the master bedroom, his footsteps light and hesitant. He entered quietly and stood at the corner of the large king-sized bed where Eva lay sound asleep, her expression calm—almost innocent—compared to the storm she often became when awake.

He glanced at the clock again.

5:58 AM.

Hmm… I had better wake her up now, he thought nervously, his voice barely a whisper in his mind.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment, uncertain. He didn't want to startle her—that never ended well. Swallowing hard, he leaned in slightly, his voice trembling.

"Eva… it's six a.m wake up."

He reached out his hand and lightly touched her shoulder. "Eva… it's six already, wake up," he said quietly.

Her eyes opened slowly, her lashes fluttering. For a second, she looked at him with her sleepy eyes as she opened them fully, and the first thing she saw was Dave's face—his expression blank, almost lifeless. Her eyes narrowed instantly.

"Is breakfast ready?" she asked, her tone sharp despite just waking up.

"Yes… downstairs," Davia replied quickly, standing stiffly at the edge of the bed.

She stared at him for a long second, her gaze cold and calculating, as if looking for a flaw, a mistake, anything she could use.

Then she sat up slowly, brushing her hair over her shoulder, and walked out of the room without another word. Dave followed a few steps behind her, their footsteps sounding beneath their feet as they descended from the stairs.

She entered the dining room, the table was already set: eggs perfectly cooked, toast stacked neatly, juice poured, coffee steaming in her favorite mug.

Eva sat down with an air of grace and entitlement, crossing one leg over the other. She looked over the meal without touching it, her eyes scanning every inch of the table.

Finally, she picked up her fork and took a bite of the eggs, chewing slowly and silently.

Dave stood by the wall, hands clasped tightly in front of him, holding his breath like a ghost trying not to be seen. The air in the room was heavy with silence, broken only by the quiet clink of Eva's fork against her plate.

Suddenly, she glanced up at him, a look of irritation spreading across her face as if his very presence offended her.

"What are you doing just standing there?" she snapped, her voice sharp and biting. "Don't you have something else to do?"

Dave flinched. I was just waiting in case you needed anything.

"In case I need what?" she repeated, rolling her eyes. "God, just looking at you, give me the Ick." Go! Before you ruin my appetite.

"Eva couldn't stand having him around. The only reason she married to this excuse of a man was because, after her dad died, she had to get married in order to inherit his company. Her mom began pressuring her to marry an old wealthy man, which she didn't want. So, to ease the pressure and secure the company, she married Dava—at least until she finds the right man for her."

Dave nodded, backing away with his eyes cast to the floor.

Once he was out of the dining room, he walked down the hallway and into the seating room. He sat down, letting out a breath of relief due to the early morning stress he had just gone through, without knowing his eyes went shot as he drifted away on the coach.

"What are you doing, you hopeless specimen!"

Dave jolted awake in fear. That loud, harsh voice belonged to none other than his mother-in-law.

He realized he had fallen asleep on the couch without even noticing. Groggy, he glanced at the clock—7:30 a.m. And then it hit him: he had forgotten to wash Mrs. Samantha's car, just like she'd asked.

"I told you to clean my car and here you are, sleeping like a lazy fool!" she barked in a shrill, grating voice.

Dave sat up slowly on the couch. "I'm sorry, I must've forgotten. I'll go do it now—"

SLAP!

Before he could finish, a brutal slap landed across the same spot on his face where Eva had struck him earlier. This one stung even more.

"Why... why did you do that?" Dave's voice trembled with a mix of pain and rising anger. His eyes reddened, on the brink of tears. "Why is everyone always hitting me? It's becoming... normal."

What? "What did you just say to me, you worthless piece of trash?" she snapped. I don't even know why Eva married a loser like you. Look at yourself! You can't even complete the simplest task. You're an idiot. You think I don't know—you only married my daughter for her money. You're nothing but garbage!

She stepped closer, her voice venomous.

"Now move it! Go clean my car before I give you something worse than a slap!"

Dave didn't say a word. He just went silently, holding the spot where he'd just been slapped, his head bowed as he made his way outside. He knew that if he didn't do what she asked, she wouldn't let him have even a speck of peace in the house.

He felt so embarrassed—even the housemaids seemed to have more status than he did in the Lapis family. Despite all the maids they had, he was always the one doing all the house chores. Sometimes Dave wondered why the Lapis family even bothered hiring maids when they dumped everything on him.

He stepped outside to get ready to wash Samantha's car when his cheap Nokia phone buzzed in his pocket. It was almost laughable—being the husband of a wealthy woman, yet he couldn't even afford a proper cellphone. That wasn't all. He couldn't afford decent clothes either. He only owned three shirts and a single pair of jeans. He always looked unkempt, more like a beggar than a member of the household.

Everyone in the Lapis family seemed to look down on him—as if his entire existence screamed low-class, loser, worthless.

Still feeling the sting from the slap on his cheek, Dava pulled the phone from his pocket and looked at the screen. It was an unknown number. He didn't bother answering. It was probably another spam call, maybe even from one of the loan companies bothering him about the 5 bucks he had borrowed from them years ago. With a sigh, he declined the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Dave rinsed the car with water, preparing to start scrubbing it clean. When he was distracted again, the buzzing in his pocket returned. His phone was ringing. He pulled it out and checked the screen: the same unknown number.

Frustrated and tired of the repeated calls, he finally decided to answer, curious to know who was behind them.

"Hello…?" he said, his voice cautious.

From the other end, a voice replied, "Hello, am I speaking with Mrs. Madam Victoria ?"

Dava furrowed his brow. "No, this is Diava Wayne. Who's this?"

There was a sudden pause, followed by an audible sigh of relief. Then the voice exclaimed, almost breathlessly, "Oh my goodness—Master Dave! Where have you two been? We've been searching for the both of you!".

As Dave stood on the phone, trying to make sense of what the unknown caller was saying about "looking for us and how he knew his mother's name," a sudden thud behind him made him turn around. A pile of clothes had been dropped on the ground.

 

He looked up—it was Vivian, his sister-in-law and Eva's younger sister.

 

Startled, Dave ended the call, losing focus on the conversation entirely.

 

Hey, my clothes are dirty. "I need you to wash them, she said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. And I'm hungry. Come make me some breakfast."

 

She spoke with the entitled tone of a spoiled brat, showing not even the slightest respect for Dave, despite him being older than her. 

 

Dave forced a strained smile. "Okay, Vivian, I will. Just let me finish washing your mom's car first, then I'll go inside and make breakfast."

 

Vivian rolled her eyes and said with a smirk, "You know what will happen if you don't. So be quick about it." With that, she turned and strutted back inside.

 

Dave stood there, sitting behind his fake smile. There was something especially irritating—abusive—about Vivian. She had no shame. She'd even dropped her underwear in that pile, expecting him to wash them.

 

It was humiliating. Deeply disrespectful.

 

Even Eva had barely asked him to do something like that. And now this brat had the audacity to throw her underwear at him to wash.

 

Dave clenched his jaw. The weight of humiliation pressed heavily on his chest.

But Dave had no choice—he had to do what Vivian asked.

 

She was more like a little witch in the house, manipulative and cruel. There had been a time when he refused one of her demands. In retaliation, she'd lied and told the family that Dave had scratched Eva's car. They believed her without question.

 

They tied him up like an animal and beat him for over half an hour. As if that wasn't enough, they refused to let him eat for two days afterward.

 

Dave never forgot that day—the pain, the humiliation, the sheer helplessness. It left a scar deeper than any bruise.

 

He couldn't go through that kind of torture again, so he had to be careful around Vivian. That's why he put on a fake smile when talking to her. 

 

Dave looked down at the clothes Vivian had carelessly tossed on the ground. With a quiet sigh, he picked them up and set them aside, pushing down the wave of irritation rising in his chest. Then, without a word, he returned to washing Samantha's car, trying to focus and pretend the humiliation didn't sting.

 

He noticed Eva's car wasn't parked in front of Samantha's—she must have already left for work. Maybe she had an important meeting, which is why she asked me to wake her up early. Or was it her who woke me up with a splash of cold water? Either way, she usually doesn't leave for the office this early. Most of the time, she barely goes in at all. She has a personal assistant, and her manager can handle everything without her even being there. All she really does is call the office to give permission or issue orders.

 

Distracting thoughts raced through Dave's mind as he hurriedly scrubbed the car tires. Time slipped by, he finished washing the car, and went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast—just as Vivian had asked.

 

When Dave got to the kitchen, there was a pile of dirty dishes from last night's dinner. He had been too tired yesterday to do them because of all the heavy chores he'd done. He had cooked, cleaned, and gone out with Eva to help her carry things, and on top of that, he was asked to clear and rake all the grass from the lawn. Now, feeling exhausted and with a hint of regret, Dave thought to himself that he should've just done the dishes yesterday—now he was stuck doing them on top of everything else.

 

He washed the dishes as he hurriedly prepared breakfast for Vivian. And speaking of the devil, she stepped in.

 

"Hey, loser. What's with the hold-up? I'm starving over here."

 

Davia turned to her, forcing a smile. "Don't worry, it'll be ready in a bit."

 

It had better be. "Don't keep me waiting," she said as she walked off to wherever she came from. As soon as she was out of sight, Dave's smile quickly faded.

 

"Damn, I hate that bitch," he muttered under his breath. He couldn't stand her—not just because of how she treated him, but because of how terrible a person she was in general.

 

He continued with what he was doing. Not long after, Samantha walked in. She opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a sip—her eyes fixed on Dave with an irritated, almost mocking look. But Dave couldn't care less. He kept on with his task, acting as if she wasn't even there in the first place. She scoffed under her breath before walking out, muttering something that sounded like "rubbish."

 

Samantha had hated Dave from the very beginning. The mere sight of him made her skin crawl. She had always wanted Eva to marry someone wealthy—like Edward Savior, a filthy rich old man in his fifties. She couldn't understand why Eva would stoop so low and end up with someone like Dave—a poor, worthless loser like him. 

 

 She had even gone as far as having divorce papers drawn up by her lawyers, trying to pressure Eva into signing them and marrying someone as wealthy as Edward. But Eva refused. Now, Samantha was doing everything in her power to frustrate the idiot, hoping that one day he'd finally have enough and walk away for good.

 

Dave finished preparing breakfast for Vivian and brought it to her.

 

"Hey, here's your food," he said, placing the plate down.

 

Just as he was about to leave, her voice stopped him in his tracks.

 

Hey, loser. "Did you wash the clothes like I asked?"

 

Diava turned to her, trying to mask his frustration with a forced smile. "Not yet. I'm about to wash them now."

 

"You had better," she snapped. "I'm going to my friend's birthday party tomorrow, and I need something nice to wear." So get it done.

 

Dave didn't say anything else—he just walked away, heading to the laundry room to wash the clothes. After finishing the laundry, he began sweeping the entire house, then mopping it. Even though the housemaids no longer performed household chores and spent most of their time playing chess, Dave quietly took over the work.

 

As he morphed past them, they gave him looks of disdain, the kind reserved for someone beneath them. In the Lapis household, even the maids held a higher rank than him. He wasn't even sure if he could call them maids anymore—because if they were, then what did that make him? A real servant? Or even worse... a slave.