The Mysterious Chairman Keith

Who The Hell Is This?

The room felt suddenly colder.

The silence that followed was sharp, stretched thin between Manuel and the two women sneering at him.

The clerk swallowed, glancing nervously from the sleek black card to Mrs. Stones’ jeweled hand resting imperiously on the counter. Her rings glittered under the warm lights, but her smile was colder than metal.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk said at last, voice uncertain. “But this is a reputable establishment. If there’s any question about the payment method, we can’t—”

Mrs. Stones cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Exactly. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Men like him talk big but can’t even afford proper rent. He probably found that fake card in a dumpster.”

Her daughter smirked beside her. “Mother, don’t be so harsh. Maybe he just wants to look rich in front of people who’ll never see him again.”

Manuel’s jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t waver. “You should honor your word,” he said, his voice low, even. “First come, first served. That’s how business is supposed to work.”

The clerk bristled. “Sir, we have standards. If there’s any suspicion—”

“Suspicion?” Manuel interrupted, eyes narrowing. “Because of how I look?”

The clerk faltered, but Mrs. Stones stepped in smoothly, her tone dripping false pity. “Don’t take it personally. Some people simply… don’t belong in certain places. You’re clearly out of your depth, dear.”

Her daughter snickered. “Lisa used to say he always dreamed too big. Guess she was right.”

At that, Manuel’s gaze hardened. “Lisa,” he said quietly. “So this is what she learned from you.”

Mrs. Stones arched a brow. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. My daughter was far too good for you from the beginning. I warned her, again and again, not to waste her time with someone beneath her. Thankfully, she listened… eventually.”

Her tone turned cutting. “If she hadn’t, imagine how ashamed I’d be seeing her future husband buying herbs he couldn’t afford. It would’ve been tragic.”

Her daughter chimed in sweetly, “Honestly, Mother, you were right to stop her. Look at him, not even fit to be our driver, and yet she dated him. I doubt she ever really loved him. Probably just used him until she got bored.”

The mother chuckled. “Hehe… she used him for what he had. Then she moved on and I guess he's yet to move on. Who knows, maybe he came to get this on credit even though places like this usually don't do credit purchases.”

“I doubt he even has a decent credit score as it is. He probably maxed it out already." Lisa's sister grinned.

The words struck like knives, each one deliberate.

Manuel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the faint glow of the Dragon Vein flickering deep within him. He wanted to crush their arrogance, to let them see the mistake of mocking him, but he forced it down.

Now wasn’t the time.

He inhaled slowly, his tone deceptively calm. “Are you two done?”

Mrs. Stones gave a sharp, mocking laugh. “We’re only stating facts, darling. You should be grateful we’re reminding you of your place.”

The clerk, emboldened by her words, cleared his throat. “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to return the herb. The manager will handle the refund—”

Manuel’s gaze flicked to him, icy and unblinking. “You should think carefully before you embarrass your employer.”

But the clerk, too caught up in the moment, didn’t back down. “It’s standard procedure, sir. Please wait while I call the manager.”

Moments later, a man in a crisp vest and gold-rimmed glasses entered — the kind of manager who measured people by brand labels and posture. He took one look at Manuel’s simple attire and frowned.

“What seems to be the issue?” he asked the clerk.

Mrs. Stones was quick to speak. “This man’s pretending to buy Bloodroot Herb with a fake card. I’d like you to sell it to me instead. I’ll pay cash.”

The manager gave Manuel a dismissive glance. “Sir, may I see your ID and card authorization?”

Manuel’s patience was slipping. “You can run the card right now. It will go through.”

“Or it won’t,” Mrs. Stones said smoothly. “And when it doesn’t, I expect an apology from him for wasting our time.”

The manager crossed his arms. “Let’s not make a scene. If you can’t verify your account, please return the product. We’ll handle this professionally.”

Manuel’s eyes darkened. Professionally. The word tasted like poison.

“I’ve dealt with unprofessional people before,” he said slowly. “You might want to be careful with your tone.” He might only have become the son of a wealthy man just yesterday but before that, he'd experienced encounters with such people.

The manager scoffed. “And you might want to be careful pretending you belong in high-end stores. This isn’t a street market.”

Mrs. Stones let out a delighted laugh. “Well said. Some people don’t understand boundaries.”

Her daughter whispered loudly, “Maybe we should take a picture. It’ll be a funny story for Lisa later.”

Manuel’s breathing was steady, but a storm churned beneath the surface. He wanted to end this charade, to let the name Keith roll through the room like thunder — but no.

Not yet.

His fingers twitched near his phone. If they wanted proof, he would give it to them.

He dialed quickly. “Laura,” he said quietly when she answered. “Can you come inside for a moment? They need to verify something.”

“Understood,” came her calm voice through the receiver.

The manager frowned. “Calling for help now? What’s next, a story about being secretly important?”

Mrs. Stones smirked. “Oh, please. Who are you calling, your girlfriend? Maybe she can buy it for you.”

Her daughter giggled. “Assuming she exists.”

Manuel said nothing. He just slid his phone back into his pocket, gaze distant and unreadable.

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor broke the tension. The door opened.

Every head turned.

A woman stepped in — tall, poised, radiating an aura that silenced the room. Her tailored suit fit perfectly, her platinum-blonde hair gleaming under the soft light. Her gaze swept across the room with quiet dominance before landing on Manuel.

“Sorry for the delay,” she said smoothly, walking to his side without hesitation. Her hand brushed lightly against his arm.

To her, she'd simply dusted off a piece of dirt that was on his clothing but to the others, it was a casual, intimate, and unmistakable touch.

“Who the hell is this?" Mrs. Stones asked with a furious pitch.