The Monarch Crown System

4. The Family Scam

The other staffs in the crew began to murmur amongst themselves, wondering what had suddenly come over Elias.

“Did you say something, Elias?” The director walked up to him.

And it was as if the thing that possessed Elias for a second left him.

“Ah….”He said brushing his hand through his hair.

Elias had been delusional for a second. He had felt trapped for a second and wanted out.

“I am sorry about that. I spoke out of turns and…..”

The director slammed his hand on the table, causing Elias to shook.

“Now, I’ll make you shoot the most humiliating video that has been ever made.”

He hurried back to his position as Elias swallowed hard and rubbed the head of sweat on his forehead. He had just dug his grave untimely.

“Alright. Cameras rolling.”

He raised his hand again.

“Three… two… one… go.”

“I want to use this opportunity to give my family a break. My wife, Celeste, is the sweetest person I have ever met in my life… and my in-laws, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Park, have always been the nicest…” Elias continued, until—

He suddenly lurched forward, coughing violently. Each spasm shook his entire body.

His eyes squeezed shut, face twisted in pain.

A harsh, wet gurgle escaped his throat—like water struggling through a clogged drain.

Then a faint pink tinge splattered onto his palm.

Blood.

He was coughing up blood.

His trembling hands gripped his chest as he gasped for air.

“Get him water!” a sharp female voice commanded—piercing, authoritative.

No one needed to look to know who it was.

Mrs. Susan.

A fearsome woman. Ruthless. Dominant. Elias always believed it was poetic that she and Henry Halston married—two storms that deserved each other. If Henry could drive a calm woman to madness, Mrs. Susan was the madness that matched him perfectly.

A young assistant dropped her pen and hurriedly fetched water for Elias.

After drinking, the coughing eased, but his strength didn’t return. He needed to go inside and take his routine medication. He was already late—too late, judging by the blood.

He stood, grabbed his blazer, and began walking toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Mrs. Susan’s cold voice slashed through the air, her face twisted in disdain.

“I’m going back to my room, ma’am. I’ll continue the video tomorrow,” Elias said, breath trembling. “I shouldn’t stay outside in the cold… and I need to take my medication. I’ll resume filming once I’m done.”

His voice was thin—frayed at the edges from exhaustion, shame, and the sharp ache in his ribs. His fingers shook as he held the camera, and he could feel every second draining what little strength he had left.

“No. That’s not going to happen,” Mrs. Susan replied flatly.

Her tone sliced through him.

“Henry instructed that you must finish the video before you go anywhere.”

She leaned forward, her eyes hard and unblinking—like she was inspecting something worthless that she wished she didn’t have to touch.

“And so you will follow his instructions. Even if you’re dying right here, you will finish this video first. Understood?”

The words hit him like a slap. A coldness spread through his chest—one that had nothing to do with the evening air.

“But I—”

“There are no excuses, Elias. You’re already enough of a disgrace to this family. Can you at least get this one thing right?”

The insult stung more than his injuries. Shame pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. He lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, sinking back into his seat. His pride had been chipped away so many times, he wondered if there was anything left.

“Maybe if you hadn’t fought Damien at the office, you wouldn’t be doing this video now,” Mrs. Susan muttered, her voice dripping with judgment—just loud enough for him to hear.

Anger surged through him, sharp and bitter.

“But he started it. He wanted to have my wife!” Elias shot back before he could stop himself.

Mrs. Susan’s head snapped toward him, her expression turning ice-cold.

“Did I hear you say something?”

The fleeting burst of courage evaporated. His stomach dropped.

“…No, ma’am.”

“I thought as much. Now finish the video.”

He nodded stiffly, swallowing the burn in his throat as he lifted the camera again.

The next morning

Celeste burst into the sitting room where her parents—Henry Halston and Mrs. Susan—relaxed with their morning tea.

“Mom! Dad! The video is up on all our social media accounts—and the responses are overwhelming! People are already asking how they can donate money to help Elias!”

Henry’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“That’s excellent!” he exclaimed, grabbing her phone to scan the comments. Each message praising their “kindness” made him grin wider.

“So… does that mean you’ll give Elias the money now?” Celeste asked, hope flickering in her voice.

Henry scoffed, the amusement on his face turning sharp.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

He tapped her forehead lightly, as if correcting a naïve child.

“I raised you to be smart, Celeste. This is exactly what we planned. That’s why we created a NEW bank account in Elias’s name. All the donations go there—we collect the money, while everyone thinks it’s for him.”

His smile widened, proud of their scheme.

Celeste’s heart sank.

She suddenly understood just how little Elias meant to them—and how much they stood to gain from his suffering.

He laughed in delight.

“This will make our family ten times richer!”

They didn’t notice the shadow at the door.

Elias.

“Wait… what?” His voice was stunned.

“I already have a bank account. Why would you create another one in my name? And what do you mean you’ll collect all the money?”

Henry and Mrs. Susan turned toward him slowly.

Mrs. Susan smirked.

“Oh, Elias… you’re really that naive, aren’t you? You think we’d let you touch that money?”

Henry didn’t even bother to hide his amusement.

Elias’s stomach churned in fear.