The Man She Called A Nobody

Chapter 4: Shock Absorber

"Sir, your food is ready."

The maid moved gracefully across the room, balancing a silver tray. She was stunning —soft curves, radiant skin, and a quiet elegance that seemed to brighten the dim room.

As she set the plates down, Nelson caught a glimpse of her profile. He froze. He couldn’t place the exact memory, but an overwhelming sense of familiarity washed over him. He knew her from somewhere. The feeling lingered, stubbornly refusing to fade.

Standing near the door, John cleared his throat, trying to pull Nelson’s attention away from the girl.

"Uh-hmm. Sir, as I was saying, the Kingston family has planned a private gala. Since we recently finalized that massive deal with them, they are extremely eager to meet the man behind the success. They would be honored if you attended."

Nelson didn't reply. His eyes remained locked on the maid as she meticulously arranged his silverware, acting as if John hadn't spoken at all.

As she turned to leave, Nelson reached out instinctively, his hand gently catching her wrist. The sudden contact made her jump.

"I know you from somewhere," Nelson said, his voice quiet but searching. "Please, remind me."

She quickly pulled her arm away and bowed deeply, avoiding his gaze as if she had been expecting this exact confrontation. "You must be mistaken, sir. I am afraid you have me confused with someone else."

Without waiting for a response, she practically fled the room.

Nelson stared at the empty doorway. His instincts were rarely wrong. There was a reason she was hiding her face.

He turned slowly to his assistant. "John. Who was that?"

"We've cycled through quite a lot of staff recently, sir," John replied, looking a bit confused. "She only started working here two weeks ago. I can look into her file if you'd like?"

Nelson’s mind was still spinning like a locked puzzle he couldn't solve. "Get me everything you can find on her. Background, previous employers, everything. And report back to me."

"Understood," John nodded. He paused, raising an eyebrow. "But sir, did you hear a single word I said before that?"

Nelson blinked, snapping back to reality. "Sorry. Run that by me again?"

John let out a heavy, patient breath. "The Kingston family, sir. They are throwing a high-profile party to show their appreciation for the recent deals. They want to meet the mastermind behind it all."

Nelson rubbed his forehead, suddenly exhausted at the thought of wealthy crowds and forced smiles. "Is it really necessary?"

"Yes, sir. It is," John insisted respectfully. "They are vital partners. They’ve been waiting to put a face to the Reeds name for months."

"Fine," Nelson relented. "But I don’t want a target on my back. Tell them to keep my identity low-profile. No grand announcements. And get me a simple black suit. Nothing flashy. I just want to blend in."

"Right away, sir."

Later that evening, as Nelson ate his dinner in silence, every bite felt like ash. It was gourmet food, prepared by world-class chefs, yet he found himself missing the cheap, simple meals he used to cook for Lisa. She had made terrible mistakes tonight, but he still remembered the good woman she used to be before ambition and influence poisoned her.

******

The party was already in full swing when Nelson stepped into the grand hall.

Smooth jazz floated through the air, perfectly masking the low hum of million-dollar conversations and the clinking of crystal champagne flutes. Everywhere he looked, the city's elite mingled in custom-tailored suits and breathtaking gowns. The entire room smelled of expensive cologne and old money.

Nelson adjusted his cuffs, feeling like an imposter in his own world. His suit was sharp, but intentionally understated. Next to the diamond-draped guests around him, he looked completely ordinary. No one in the room would ever guess he was the VIP they were all hoping to impress.

He walked over to the grand mahogany bar, taking a steadying breath.

"Good evening, sir. What can I get for you?" a well-dressed bartender asked with a polite smile.

"Good evening. I’ll take a glass of Macallan 1926, please."

The bartender’s jaw practically hit the floor. The smile vanished, replaced by sheer shock. A single pour of that specific vintage could buy a luxury sports car. And this man—dressed so simply —was ordering it like it was tap water.

"I… I am so sorry, sir," the bartender stammered, recovering his composure. "We don’t carry anything quite that exclusive here tonight."

Nelson offered a relaxed, apologetic smile. "My mistake. What’s your best alternative?"

"We have Dom Pérignon, or perhaps a Glenfiddich 21-Year?"

"I’ll go with the Glenfiddich. Neat."

"Right away, sir."

As Nelson took the heavy crystal glass, a light, melodic voice drifted over his shoulder.

"Mmm. You certainly have expensive taste when it comes to scotch."

Nelson turned to see a stunning woman in an elegant emerald dress. Her eyes were bright, and her hand was already outstretched toward him.

"I’m Emily," she said confidently. "Director of FAS Agro."

Nelson accepted her handshake, a little caught off guard by her directness. "Nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Nelson."

Emily leaned casually against the bar, swirling the wine in her glass. "You’ve been standing here alone since you walked through the doors. Why don't you mingle? Have a little fun, meet some people."

Nelson gave her a faint, knowing smile. "You speak like you’ve been watching me."

Emily laughed, a completely unpretentious sound. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just bored out of my mind, saw you brooding over here, and figured I'd come rescue you." She extended her hand again, offering a playful smirk. "If you don't mind, of course?"

Nelson took a deep breath, his defenses lowering just a fraction. He accepted her hand. As she pulled him gently toward the center of the bustling room, a strange, warm feeling settled in his chest. It had been a very long time since someone had looked at him with genuine, uncomplicated interest.

"So," Emily asked, glancing up at him as they navigated the crowd. "Why the brooding?"

Before Nelson could answer, a woman stepped abruptly into their path. Emily bumped right into her.

"Oh, shit! I am so, so sorry!" Emily gasped, realizing a splash of her red wine had just landed squarely on the woman's pristine white dress.

But before Emily could grab a napkin, the woman whipped around, her face twisted in pure, unadulterated fury.

"Are you blind? You useless girl!" she shrieked, her voice slicing through the jazz music. "Can’t you watch where you’re going?"

"I said I was sorry," Emily replied, her friendly demeanor hardening to match the hostility. "It was an accident, but you stepped right into our path.."

The woman's anger exploded. "Sorry? Is that all your empty brain can manage? Do you have any idea how much this dress costs? You look like you couldn't afford the zipper on it!"

Heads began to turn. The music seemed to fade into the background as the woman’s voice grew louder and more venomous.

"Look at you, walking around here like you belong! You look cheap. You’re a low-class nuisance!"

Blinded by rage, the woman raised her hand, aiming a vicious slap directly at Emily’s face.

Before her palm could connect, Nelson stepped forward in a blur of motion. His hand shot out, catching the woman’s wrist in an iron grip, stopping the slap dead in its tracks.

The woman gasped, violently jerking her head up to glare at whoever dared to touch her.

Nelson froze.

The anger in the woman's eyes instantly vanished, replaced by sheer, paralyzed shock.

It was Lisa.

Her eyes locked with Nelson’s. The heavy, suffocating tension sucked the air right out of the room. The entire hall around them seemed to go dead silent.

"Nelson...?"