The Shamanic Billionaire

EIGHT: Sidelined

Cai’s words caused a collective gasp to ripple through the living room. He could swear that if looks could kill, the relatives in their tailored suits would have stabbed him right where he stood.

He didn't care. He remained unapologetic, his posture relaxed as he watched the indignation redden their faces.

“What?” He scoffed, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. “Are you shocked I have the nerve to talk when I'm nothing but a local boy?”

Of course, they weren't shocked by his defiance, the memories of the stubborn five-year-old were still fresh in their minds.

But he was almost twenty now. In their world of rigid hierarchy and corporate manners, he was supposed to be more conscious of the way he behaved.

He was supposed to be intimidated by the wealth surrounding him.

Cyril Arrows took a sharp breath, his face twisting with genuine disbelief. “How dare you talk to the elders like that?!”

Before Cai could reply, a cold, emotionless voice rang out from the grand stairs.

“The Patriarch is awake! He said you all should make sure to contain yourselves before he appears.”

The room went dead silent. The speaker was the Head Butler, a man whose lack of a smile was as famous as his efficiency.

Everyone in the Arrows family knew that disrespecting the butler was equivalent to disrespecting the Patriarch himself.

Cyril took an unwilling step back, his bravado instantly cooling. The elders, who had been on the verge of an outburst, forced themselves to look composed.

The heavy tension of the room shifted from outrage to a frantic, nervous anticipation.

The silence held for a few seconds, long enough for everyone to settle into their roles as obedient family members. Then, Cai broke it.

Cai shrugged casually, his tone as relaxed as if he were discussing the weather.

“Well,” he said, looking around the room. “At least the house is quiet now. I was starting to think I’d walked into a bird sanctuary by mistake.”

Before Cyril could snap back, a metallic sound vibrated from the top of the grand staircase. It wasn’t the butler’s voice this time. It was a raspy, commanding tone.

“That’s enough.”

Silas Arrows appeared, seated in a high-tech, black wheelchair that navigated the stairs with seamless precision.

Grant was behind him, his hands resting on the handles in a show of filial piety, though the chair’s internal drive was doing the heavy lifting.

Following closely behind were Amelia and Dr. Thane. Both wore practiced, triumphant smiles.

Amelia looked radiant, her hand resting affectionately on her brother’s arm as if they had just personally conquered death.

“Look at him,” one of the aunts whispered, her voice full of awe. “The color in his face... it’s a miracle.”

Amelia stepped forward as the wheelchair reached the floor, her voice projecting to every corner of the room. “It wasn't a miracle, Auntie. It was science. My brother, Dr. Thane, managed to secure a shipment of the latest neuro-regenerative compound from overseas. It’s a breakthrough drug, the only one of its kind. If it weren't for his quick thinking and his connections, we would be mourning today.”

Dr. Thane nodded modestly, though his eyes gleamed with arrogance. “I only did my duty as a physician and a member of this family. I hope my nephew, Cyril, follows in these footsteps, using his intellect to protect the Arrows legacy.”

Cai watched them, a slow, cold realization dawning on him. Did they just dismiss his efforts and claimed it as their victory?

He looked at Grant, expecting his father to say something, anything, about what he had done in the room yesterday. But Grant remained silent, his eyes fixed on the floor, complicit in the lie.

Cai let out a short, sharp breath that was almost a laugh. “What drug did you say it was, exactly?”

The question hit the room like a stone in a pond. Amelia’s smile didn't falter, but her eyes hardened.

Before she could answer, Grant stepped in, his voice hurried. “That’s not important right now, Cai. What matters is that the Patriarch is back. We have more pressing family matters to discuss.”

“Is that so?” Cai muttered, but the room was already moving on.

Silas gestured for the family to gather in the massive central lounge. As they settled into the plush velvet chairs, the atmosphere shifted.

Silas sat at the head, his expression unreadable, but he didn't even glance at Cai. The boy who had pulled his soul back from the brink of death was, for all intents and purposes, invisible to him.

“I called this meeting because an Arrows should be with the Arrows,” Silas began, his voice cold. “But let us be clear about why there is a gap in our ranks.”

The shift was instantaneous. One of the elder cousins, a man with a face like pinched parchment, looked directly at Cai. “It’s hard to ignore the stain, Patriarch. Having Chereen’s son back in this house... it brings back memories none of us wanted to revisit.”

“Exactly,” a woman added, her voice dripping with venom. “That woman nearly ruined us years ago. Her history with this family is a scar. If it weren't for the intervention of our outside partners and our unending connections, the Sylvan woman would have dragged the Arrows name into the mud.”

“And the boy isn't any better,” another voice chimed in. “Even as a child, his existence brought nothing but disaster. Stubborn, ill-omened, and talentless. To have him here now, after the luck we've finally regained..."

Cai felt an uncomfortable feeling arise in his heart. He had expected the arrogance, but the systematic tearing down of his mother, a woman they had collectively erased, hit him in a way he hadn't prepared for.

It felt like a heavy weight in his chest. He looked at the faces of his 'kin,' seeing the casual cruelty they used to justify their actions.

Silas finally raised a hand, silencing the vitriol. He still didn't look at Cai.

“The past is the past,” Silas said tonelessly. “I want the family back under one roof. But do not mistake my leniency for weakness. Lume City is a battlefield. Only those who prove themselves worthy in the end will truly inherit the Arrows name. The rest... are just guests.”

Cai could see exactly where he stood and seriously, his mind started running with various thoughts.

The room was a calculated theater of exclusion, and the logic was starting to feel warped.

If his mother had truly been the disaster they claimed, and if his very existence was a 'stain,' then why had the Patriarch reached into the mountains to drag him back? To bring Family together? Tha is something he believed isn't true.

Nothing in the Arrows family was done out of the goodness of anyone’s heart.

Before Cai could voice the question burning in his throat, a sudden, deafening blast of brassy music erupted in the hall.

A man in a suit of violently bright colors practically lunged into the center of the living room.

He was moving with an energy that bordered on manic, dancing to a rhythm only he seemed to fully grasp while an assistant followed behind him, lugging a heavy portable speaker.

Cai braced for the family to explode in outrage, but the reaction was the opposite. The elders and the cousins simply wore bored, weary expressions, the kind people reserve for a recurring joke that stopped being funny years ago.

The music cut out with a piercing screech. The man froze in a dramatic pose, a wide, gleaming smile breaking across his face. “Lo and behold!” he shouted, throwing his arms wide. “The Patriarch of the Arrows Family has survived! He is alive! He is well! And what does this call for? A celebration!”

Cai watched in genuine shock as Silas, the same cold, unmoving man who had just looked at Cai like he was a piece of dirt, let out a dry, genuine laugh.

It was a jarring sound. Following the Patriarch's lead, the rest of the room let out a chorus of awkward, practiced chuckles, like a well-rehearsed background track.

The man who had pulled Silas back from death's door was ignored, while this performer was welcomed with open arms.

“Andrew,” Silas said, his voice warmer than Cai had ever heard it.

The man in the colorful suit rushed to the wheelchair and threw his arms around the old man. “I’m glad you survived, Father. The city was getting far too quiet without you.”

Andrew finally pulled back, his eyes scanning the room with the same frantic energy.

His gaze skipped over the elders, ignored the seething Cyril, and landed squarely on Cai. He froze, a look of pure, unadulterated surprise washing over his face.

“Is that him?” Andrew breathed, his smile fading into a look of wonder. “Is that Cai?”

Before Cai could even process the name, Andrew was moving. He sprinted across the polished floor, closing the gap in seconds.

He didn’t hesitate; he threw his arms around Cai in a crushing, genuine hug.

“You’re actually here!” Andrew cried, squeezing Cai’s shoulders as he pulled back to look him in the eye. “Look at you! I haven’t seen that stubborn face in over a decade! I thought they’d turned you into a monk by now!”