The Rise of Alexander Black (the Errand Boy)!

Chapter 9

The chancellor’s residence was aglow with opulence. Hidden beneath the pretense of celebration, the party was less about champagne and music and more about silent power plays and whispered alliances. As Dustin had warned, this wasn’t just a party—it was a decoy. A gathering of power brokers masked as a social event. Politics in pearls. Deals in tuxedos.

Alex stood by the grand entrance, eyes scanning the crowd. Dressed in a deep navy three-piece suit tailored to perfection, he looked nothing like the boy who woke up that morning being called “Errand Boy.” His hair was slicked back, his posture confident, and his aura undeniable. He wasn’t just attending this event. He was owning it.

He tugged slightly at his lapel and exhaled.

This morning, he was invisible.

This afternoon, he was humiliated.

By night, he was a multimillionaire, the largest shareholder of one of the most powerful banks in the city, and the proud owner of a suit most people in this room couldn’t afford without selling a car or two.

And now—here he was, among the city’s elites. ‘Let’s see if Dustin or Emily notice,’ he mused. ‘Let them see what they threw away.’

The hall was drenched in gold hues, with waiters moving swiftly between guests holding vintage wine and hors d’oeuvres that cost more than Alex’s former rent. The room buzzed, not with laughter, but with the kinds of low murmurs only old money and newer threats bring. Every handshake carried weight. Every eye contact meant something.

But Alex wasn’t just here to dazzle. He had a mission: Find Godwin Taylor, and Gwen. Especially Gwen.

As he took a slow step forward, absorbing the room and the rising tension in his own chest, fate played a funny trick.

He turned too quickly—and bumped into a couple. Crystal flutes of champagne splashed onto his sleeve.

“Oh damn—” Alex staggered, instantly reaching for the mess. “I’m so sorry.”

The couple—elegantly dressed, mid-60s and 50s respectively—pulled back instinctively. Though their clothes were untouched, their pride had clearly been splashed.

The man looked down at Alex with eyes cold and judgmental. His wife followed, her lips twisted slightly.

“Who are your parents?” the man asked bluntly, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.

Alex blinked. “I’m… an orphan, sir.”

Their brows raised in unison. The wife stepped forward. “What were your parents’ names in society? Surely, they must’ve held some standing—business owners? Politicians? What legacy did they leave behind?”

Alex could practically taste the disdain in her tone. ‘Here it is,’ he thought. ‘They’re scanning me like investors vetting a failing startup.’

But this wasn’t the Alex of yesterday.

He straightened up slowly, calmly. His hand went to the drink-stained part of his suit, brushing it off deliberately with a slow flick of a pristine white handkerchief—Simonnot-Godard, limited edition. The kind that screamed class to those who knew what to look for.

The couple certainly noticed. Their squinting eyes widened.

The woman leaned toward her husband. “Is that… is that the $50,000 Armani suit you refused to buy for Dustin last week?”

Her husband gave a tight nod, eyes locked on Alex. “It is.”

“And that handkerchief—”

“Simonnot-Godard. Limited run. Worth nearly five thousand.”

They watched, transfixed, as Alex casually shook his left wrist and began to dab at the rim of his gold watch. The movement was intentional—revealing the shimmering, limited-edition Rolex Daytona, custom set with a rare ice-blue dial and platinum casing. Price tag? Over $200,000.

Gasps. Literal gasps.

The husband subtly rolled his sleeve down to conceal his $75,000 Rolex—suddenly a mere trinket. His wife pinched his arm, whispering through gritted teeth, “I told you to wear your expensive one!”

He hissed back, “Wouldn’t have mattered. Mine’s $150k at best. This kid’s rocking two-fifty minimum.”

As they bickered in whispered panic, Alex let a small smile curl his lips. He asked gently, “Is everything okay?”

They turned to him, startled. The shift in energy was immediate.

“Oh yes, yes! Just a little couple’s… discussion,” the woman said, her tone now sweet as syrup.

The man forced a laugh. “Nothing serious. Just admiring your… taste.”

Alex leaned slightly forward, voice smooth. “You asked me a question earlier. About my parents?”

The couple looked at each other nervously.

“Well… we didn’t mean to pry—” the woman stammered.

“Actually, we were just curious,” her husband jumped in. “You carry yourself with such… presence. It’s only natural to wonder.”

Alex gave a small nod. “I understand. But it’s fine. They were wonderful people. Very private, though.”

That was all he gave them. Just enough mystery to keep them guessing.

The woman’s demeanor flipped entirely. “You know, young man, you are quite impressive. Your parents must be very proud—from wherever they’re watching.”

“Young people like you are rare,” she added quickly. “Polite, respectful, cultured. Not like the loud, rude, social media-obsessed kids these days.”

Her eyes darted toward her husband. “Like Dustin, for instance. He could learn a thing or two from you.”

Alex chuckled softly. “You’re too kind, ma’am.”

“You must meet our son,” she insisted. “Dustin’s your age. In finance too. You two would get along famously.”

The husband grunted. “He’s more into gaming than banking.”

“Nonsense!” she snapped back, pinching his arm again. “The boy needs better influences.”

Alex nodded slowly. ‘Allies,’ he thought. ‘That’s what this game is about. Reputation opens doors before names do.’

The woman leaned in, voice low. “I must say, your presence tonight… it’s refreshing. You’ll do well in this world. Mark my words.”

Alex gave her a modest smile, then looked around the room once more. The elites who had ignored him at first were now glancing at him twice, some even pointing subtly, whispering.