2025-09-18 23:41:25
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CHAPTER FORTY
“You can call me Clarice but what's your name?” she asked him suddenly.“Marco, ma.”“Do away with the formality please. And wait a little.” she insisted and flashed him an encouraging smile.“Clarice it is,” he said.Just as he stood watching her and waiting for her response, the little bell above the door jingled as another customer stepped out of the grocery store with a paper bag pressed against her chest. The faint scent of fresh bread and ground spices drifted through the small building, mixing with the sharper scent of cleaning chemicals. Behind the counter, Clarice moved with quick efficiency, her fingers dancing across the register keys as she handed out change with a polite smile to the next customer. Her posture was upright and firm, yet there was a softness to her voice that spoke of years of discipline learned from dealing with the daily grind of early mornings and long afternoons.Marco stood just a few steps away, waiting. He had been asked to by Clarice herself afte
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Elena slammed the front door harder than was necessary and let out a breath that was more of a hiss than a word. She could have taken a role as a dragon now and would not need 3D effects to look like she was overheated and could cough out fire.The house hummed with the polite, careful quietness of a place that still pretended everything was well.Margaret, her mother looked up from the papers on the mahogany table as if sensing a storm in the doorway. She weighed in her daughter's reaction and sighed.“What is it?” Margaret asked without rising. Her voice was cool and practiced. She had the patience of a woman who knew how to turn crises into profit.“It’s Marco.” Elena’s words came clipped, hot with anger. She tossed her handbag on the nearest chair and paced one short step, then another. “He refuses to hand over the million dollars he made me lose the other day.”Margaret’s eyes narrowed, the sharpness of her breeding appearing in the set of her mouth. “Refuses? That slimy thief!”
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Marco pressed the phone closer to his ear, pacing slowly across the small room. Elena’s voice poured out, sharp as broken glass, every word dipped in venom.“There is no way I am owing you five hundred million dollars,” Marco said firmly, struggling to keep his tone steady. “I worked while I stayed at your house. I contributed in every way I could. I did chores!”Elena’s laugh was harsh and humorless. “Tell that to the birds, Marco. You were nothing but dead weight. I carried you all those years. You stayed under my roof, rent free. Ate my food. Used my money. And now you want to argue?”“You know that’s not true,” Marco countered, his hand tightening around the edge of the table. “I never sat idle. I hustled. I helped. Don’t twist it. And I never took your money. David took everything!”“Don’t bring my brother into this, you liar. I don’t care how you dress it up,” she snapped. “You’ll drop my money or I’ll drag you to court. And don’t think I won’t win. I’ll bury you under debts and
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Marco sat across from Don Lugard, the faint scent of cigar smoke clinging to the air of the office. The ink on the contract shined black faintly under the dim blue lights of his office, and his signature lay neatly at the bottom. His eyes swept over the figures again, unable to shake the sense of disbelief. He had never been paid that much before and seeing this one was like he needed someone to come pinch him back to reality.A thousand dollars for every night he worked and five thousand more for every cheat he exposed. It sounded surreal, almost like some exaggerated fantasy. Yet here it was, stamped with Don Lugard’s seal and bound by his word. Perhaps, his fortune was indeed beginning to unfold into something really good for him and he probably had Antonio to thank for all this“Now don't get too excited now, Marco. Beneath every smooth plant is a seed that is either rough or sharp or smooth.”The Don’s voice cut into his thoughts before he could answer Antonio for measure.“Good
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Marco tugged the apron into place, feeling the unfamiliar rough fabric against his chest. At least this was better than the lacy one he had been forced to wear during his humiliation at the laundry shop.He glanced briefly at the mirror-like panel behind the counter and barely recognized himself. He could not tell what felt off but regardless, he had to work. Just a black apron with stains from old coffee spills was enough to force him to start.He started trying to do what he had been shown by the manager but he could not quite fathom or focus. His mind was clearly scattered across the coffee shop and he started panicking.Diane, the manager, wasted no time noticing him in his confused state.“Come here,” she said, motioning him toward the steaming machines. Her voice was brisk, clipped, and the tone of someone who had no patience for mistakes. It was a shift from the one that had spoken to him earlier explaining things out and he started wondering if the guy who had quit earlier ha
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
The morning sun streamed gently through the thin curtains of Marco’s small room, tracing pale golden ray lines across the old scratched up floorboards. He stirred slowly, stretching until his back popped and the haziness of sleep lifted from his mind. This bed had indeed been better than the previous one but still uncomfortable.For a moment, he lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds of people moving around and the clerk laughing down the hall. It was an ordinary day at least so it seemed on the surface. But Marco had a strange stirring in his chest, the kind that hinted at change.After a quick shower, he dressed neatly, combed back his dark hair, and sat down to a simple breakfast given to him of bread and eggs. He ate slowly, thoughtful, while replaying yesterday’s conversation with Antonio in his head. His fork paused in midair as he remembered the business card slipped into his pocket.Don Lugard. He had finally given it enough thought and now had his
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