The Sovereign's Fury

Chapter 7

“And you, why are you still standing there? I told you to get the gear. Seems like you’ve forgotten who signs your checks!” Japheth thundered, the veins on his neck bulging like thick web lines under his skin.

The supervisor broke into a stutter as a cold shiver raced down his spine. He could sense the heavy, dangerous pressure radiating from the "beggar" in front of him, but he feared Japheth more.

“I’m sorry, sir! I’ll get the equipment right away,” he promised, scurrying off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Japheth turned back to Leo, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “I can assure you, by the time I’m done, you’re going to wish you had just stayed on the streets. You’re going to pay for that attitude—several times over.”

Leo didn't flinch. He watched the man with a clinical detachment. He could tolerate many things, but a bully with a tiny bit of power was the one thing that made him want to cast aside his peaceful upbringing.

“You have no idea what you’re paying for,” Leo whispered under his breath, too low for the manager to hear.

Soon, the supervisor returned, clutching a rough, grey worker’s uniform and a heavy mop bucket. Leo felt a dark, calculated plan forming in his mind, and for the first time in hours, a small, dangerous smile touched his lips.

“Here, sir.” The supervisor handed the gear to Japheth, who shoved it into Leo’s chest.

“Get changed. And don’t worry about the pay,” Japheth mocked. “By the end of today, you might be touching more money than a rat like you has ever seen in his life.”

Leo went to the staff locker room, changed into the oversized uniform, and returned to the lobby. He began to mop the floor slowly, placing a silent timer on his smartwatch.

“Hey, trash! Stop staring at the tiles and move those lazy arms!” Japheth’s voice pierced the air, grating even worse than his mother-in-law's shrill insults.

Leo ignored him, his eyes fixed on the timer. Suddenly, his phone—which he had kept in his pocket—vibrated with a beeping sound. He pulled it out and saw an unknown contact.

“The welcoming party is finally calling,” Leo muttered to himself.

He answered, and a voice came through the other end, trembling with a level of reverence that bordered on fear.

“Good day, Master Vane,” the voice said, sounding like a man who had practiced the sentence a thousand times.

“Speaking. Who is this?”

“I am Thomas, the Head of Department Directors. We’ve been expecting you, sir. We are all in the boardroom, but if you’re delayed, we can reschedule for another day. Whatever fits your supreme schedule.”

“Reschedule?” Leo looked at the dirty mop in his hand. “No need. I’m already at the venue.”

“You are?” Leo could hear the audible gasp of panic through the receiver. It made him smirk. “I’ve been checking the entrance, but I couldn't see your convoy. I’m so sorry for my lack of foresight, sir! Just give me your exact location and I’ll come to escort you personally.”

“First floor. Left reception wing,” Leo said, his voice flat. “But fair warning—I’ve been caught up in an... unpleasant situation.”

Thomas’s voice broke into a terrified stutter. “I—I’ll be there in ten seconds!”

Leo hung up and took a breath of the lemon-scented floor cleaner. Suddenly, a roar came from behind him.

“LEO THE STINKER!”

Japheth was stomping toward him, face flushed red with rage. He looked like he was about to explode.

“You fool!” Japheth screamed, hitting Leo’s shoulder. “How dare you take personal calls on the clock?”

“Nobody told me the owner of this building wasn't allowed to use his phone,” Leo replied nonchalantly.

The response sent Japheth over the edge. With a growl of pure hate, he reached out, snatched Leo’s phone from his hand, and hurled it into the soapy mop bucket.

Splash.

Leo stared at the bucket, watching his high-end phone sink into the grey, dirty water. Then he slowly looked back at Japheth.

“At least now you’ll focus on the filth, which is where you belong!” Japheth thundered.

He was about to turn and walk away when the sound of frantic, pounding footsteps echoed through the lobby. A group of men in bespoke Italian suits were sprinting toward them, led by a man whose face was pale with terror.

“Where is he?” Thomas shouted, his eyes darting around the lobby. “The Young Master said he was right here!”

Japheth’s confusion was visible. He didn't recognize Thomas immediately until he saw the gold director's badge. He quickly tried to put on his best professional face.

“Director Thomas! I think you must be mistaken. There’s no Young Master here. Just this bum who’s been giving me trouble all morning.”

Thomas ignored him, turning toward the figure standing by the mop bucket.

“Excuse me, have you seen—” Thomas stopped mid-sentence. His lungs seemed to seize up, and he nearly collapsed. His eyes bulged as he recognized the face of the man in the janitor’s rags.

“Young Master?” Thomas shivered to his marrow. “Why... why are you in a worker's uniform? And why are you holding a mop?”

“You should ask the man standing over there,” Leo replied, gesturing toward the bucket. “He just threw my phone into that dirty water.”

Thomas’s head felt like it was splitting into a million pieces. The pressure was so intense he could barely breathe. He turned his head slowly, like a rusted hinge, toward Japheth.

“Mr. Japheth,” Thomas’s voice was a low, vibrating growl of pure panic. “What have you done?”

Japheth, still completely oblivious, let out a dark chuckle. “Are you referring to this freeloader, Director? You must be confused. Did he beg for money from you on the street? This is getting interesting. Did he try to scam you too?”

Thomas’s eyes turned bloodshot. “Freeloader?” He repeated the word, his voice rising into a scream. “You called the Sovereign Heir of the Vane Empire a ‘freeloader’?!”