The Outcast: Michael Grey's Rise to the Top

Chapter Four: A Hateful Grudge

Michael stayed by his sister’s side for a while longer, watching her sleep. The helplessness in his chest slowly hardened into something else—something darker. A cold, bitter rage. It sat heavy in his gut, aimed squarely at the Grey family that had abandoned them when they needed help the most.

With a quiet exhale, he placed the medicine bottle on the bedside table and crossed the room in a few long strides. At the door, he glanced back at Ariana one last time, his features softening for just a second before he closed it gently behind him.

His father was waiting in the hallway. William stood tall despite the weariness carved into his posture, his eyes meeting Michael’s with calm but steady resolve. Michael’s face flattened into a subtle frown.

'Here we go again.'

“Where did you get that medicine?” William asked, his voice low but firm.

Michael held his father’s gaze, unblinking. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

William sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. Let me rephrase. How did you get the money to pay for it?”

“I got a job,” Michael said, already turning toward his room.

“I know where you work,” William replied, his tone quiet but unyielding. “Vito’s is a restaurant. They’re not paying you eight grand a month.”

Michael gave a slight shrug and rested his hand on his doorknob. “I picked up another job.”

Before he could go any further, his father reached out and gently closed his hand around Michael’s. There was no anger in his grip, only exhaustion and concern. Michael turned, expecting frustration or disappointment—but what he saw in his father’s eyes stopped him cold.

There was no lecture waiting. Just quiet pain, and the kind of fatigue that didn’t come from a long day’s work, but from a lifetime of holding everything together with both hands. William looked like a man who had been knocked down by life more times than he could count and still chose to stand back up—because someone had to.

Something in Michael’s expression shifted. Not much. Just enough to betray the flicker of admiration he always kept buried. He placed his other hand over his father’s and gave the smallest of smiles.

“I’ll be fine, Dad,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Then he turned the knob and stepped into the quiet of his room, closing the door behind him.

Inside, he stood still for a few seconds, waiting until his father’s footsteps faded down the hallway. Once he was sure he was alone, he let out a long breath and walked over to his desk. The screen blinked with a new email—one from a college classmate—but he didn’t even bother checking who it was from. He archived it with a click. There weren’t many people at school who knew him, and even fewer who cared.

He dropped into his chair and stared at the wall, mind flashing back to the encounter from earlier. Victor’s face floated into focus—smug, confident, perfectly groomed. Michael clenched his jaw.

He hated how he’d reacted. He’d let his emotions take control, and Victor had read him like a book. He should have known better. A member of the Grey family would be trained, conditioned, probably even enhanced. There were rumors about rich heirs using body modifications to increase strength, stamina, reflexes. Victor had seemed almost too powerful during their short fight. Maybe the rumors weren’t so far-fetched after all.

Then something clicked.

Victor had said he was in the area for “business.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. A member of the Grey family walking around the southern district of Whitewood without a visible escort? That didn’t sit right. The only reason he’d be flying under the radar like that would be if he didn’t want the family—especially their grandfather—to know what he was doing.

The southern sector was the least developed part of the city. Infrastructure was crumbling, and most of the province’s underground dealings happened there. If Victor was doing something here, then it was either illegal, dangerous, or both.

Michael stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket. From the wall, he pulled down a compact video recorder he’d modified himself, one of the few tools he trusted. Crossing to the window, he slid open the glass and climbed onto the narrow ledge. A hidden retractable ladder extended downward, a small addition he’d installed years ago for nights exactly like this.

Whatever Victor was involved in, Michael was going to find out.

The Grey family lived untouchable lives—shielded by money, power, and the kind of influence most people couldn’t even dream of. But that kind of prestige also meant their reputation was everything. Even a whisper of scandal could cause ripples they’d struggle to contain.

And if he could catch Victor doing something that would tarnish that pristine image?

Then maybe—just maybe—he could finally make his grandfather look at him and realize what he’d thrown away.

He would show them all just how much of a Grey he really was.