The Super-rich Gerald Arnold

Chapter 5

“Don’t you dare,” he warned.

Her eyes widened, she'd not expected resistance.

Alex stepped forward. “Let go of her.”

Gerald released her hand and stepped back, glaring at both of them.

“You both had better apologize now.”

Susan narrowed her eyes. “Who do you think you are now?”

The noise drew attention faster than flames drew moths. The head of security came striding toward the scene, eyes scanning the tension in the air like a general assessing a battlefield. As soon as he recognized Alex Lambert and Susan, his posture shifted. He softened his approach, gave a quick salute of acknowledgement, and immediately began apologizing for the "unfortunate incident."

“We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience,” he said, bowing slightly. “Please don’t worry, sir. The store will take full responsibility for the damage done to your car.”

Susan looked smug, arms folded like a queen expecting her tribute. Alex gave a curt nod, soaking up the attention like it was his birthright. But before they could bask in the spotlight for too long, Gerald stepped forward, his voice slicing through the false sense of justice.

“That won't happen at all,” Gerald stated, his tone sharp but calm. “They hit me. And they damaged my bike. They owe me an apology.”

The head of security blinked, taken off guard by the audacity. His gaze landed on Gerald for the first time, scanning him from head to toe. Tattered jeans, worn sneakers, a faded T-shirt clinging to his sweat-dampened torso. The man didn’t look like he belonged anywhere near Crimson & Crown. He looked like the kind of guy who should be outside sweeping the parking lot, not standing inside it demanding apologies from the elite.

“And who might you be?” The man demanded, lifting a skeptical brow, disdain covering his face. “Delivery?”

“I came to get a few things,” Gerald replied.

The man scoffed. “Here? To get things from here?”

He laughed under his breath and waved a dismissive hand, already turning away. “When you're done deluding yourself, move your bike and whatever else you’re delivering out of here, this is private property.”

Gerald stood tall. “I’m not a delivery man. And I’m not leaving.”

Everyone was awed by his audacity. It was chilling. Could he possibly be high on something? Susan thought to herself.

“Look here, young man, you’re not fooling anyone. I’m trying to be nice now, but don’t push it. Move the bike. Leave the compound. Or we’ll move you.”

Alex and Susan chuckled from the side, like children watching a classmate get scolded. “Let him go in,” Alex said, smirking. “He’ll only embarrass himself further. But not until he apologizes to us.”

“Exactly,” Susan added, stepping forward. “You want to act like a big man, but you don’t even have manners.”

Gerald’s eyes narrowed. “You ran into me. You disrespected me. And now you want an apology?”

“You’ll either apologize,” the head of security snapped, “or you’ll be escorted out.”

The air was thick with tension. Susan leaned toward Gerald and said in a lower voice, “Just say sorry. Let them think it’s your fault. I’ll handle the rest.”

But Gerald didn’t move. Didn’t budge. He stilled himself because what he really wanted was to slap this Susan girl halfway across the parking lot. What had he seen in her before?

“I did nothing wrong. You both should be the ones apologizing.”

More arguments followed, voices rising, threats exchanged. But no matter what they said, Gerald didn’t back down. That’s when Alex, with a fed-up sigh, pulled out his phone and made a call.

“We’ll see who’s laughing in five minutes,” he muttered.

He contacted the deputy manager of the store, Mike Sorenson— Uncle Mike. Alex's family had been the reason he got the job as the deputy manager here, and he was greatly indebted to them. Alex knew that it would all be over the minute he arrived 

A few minutes later, a tall man in a sleek black suit, polished loafers, and a face full of fake courtesy stepped out of the building. He was in his mid-thirties, his hair gelled back, his ego walking two steps ahead of him. The second he saw Alex, he broke into a wide grin.

“Alex,” Uncle Mike greeted. “Susan. I’m so sorry. I heard there was an incident.”

He threw a brief, disgusted glance at Gerald. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this. This riffraff will regret disrespecting you. I’ll make sure he pays for the scratch on your car and then some.”

He turned toward Gerald, smirked, and took a threatening step forward.

Gerald smiled.

Alex, now satisfied, nodded. “You hear that, Gerald? Enjoy your last few minutes here. Susan, let’s go. We’re already late for the party.”

They drove off, smug as ever, but just as they reached the gate, a sleek black Range Rover rolled into the compound like royalty arriving at the palace.

“That’s Miss Steph,” Alex said, pointing to the car. “Store manager. She’s a real piece of work. Gerald’s day is about to get a whole lot worse.”

Susan’s grin returned. “Good. He deserves it.”

Meanwhile, back near the entrance, Uncle Mike barked orders to the security guards. “Arrest him. He needs to be taught a serious lesson, lock him up in the guard room!”

The guards approached Gerald like a pack ready to pounce— until the Range Rover screeched to a halt beside them.

Uncle Mike raised a hand. “Hold on. Let me report this to the manager. I'm sure she'll have a more fitting punishment.”

The door opened. Out stepped a woman in her late twenties, elegant and commanding, dressed in a crisp business suit and heels that clicked like a countdown to judgment. She carried herself like royalty— cool, confident, in complete control.

Miss Stephanine Vacker.

Uncle Mike practically jogged to her, already rehearsing his speech. “Miss Steph, thank goodness. We’ve got a situation. Some lowlife—”

But she brushed past him like he was invisible.

Her eyes locked onto Gerald.

“Mr. Gerald Arnold?” she asked.

“Yes, please.”

And then—to everyone’s shock—she bowed. A full, respectful, ninety-degree bow.

“I was instructed by Uncle Sam to receive you personally, sir; I apologize for my late arrival,” she said. “Welcome to Crimson & Crown. As the new owner, your presence is our honor.”

Gasps filled the air. Eyes widened. The guards froze.

Miss Steph turned toward the gathering, her face hardening. “What exactly is going on here?”

Gerald didn’t hold back. “Well, in simple terms, your deputy manager was just about to make me beg for mercy.”

Steph’s jaw clenched. She turned to Mike, whose complexion drained instantly. “You were about to do what?”

Mike stuttered, eyes wild. “N-No, that’s not true, I can explain!!”

Miss Steph was no small woman, she worked directly with the Arnolds, and her family, the Vackers, were subordinates to the Arnolds, as most families in the country were, including the Lamberts, who owe their empire and fortune to the Arnolds. The Vackers also controlled the underground mafia operations of the Arnold, and they were dreaded in the country. If the Arnolds wanted to do dirty work, the Vackers were their emissaries. 

It was only natural for Uncle Mike to be consumed with fear, having realized he had just offended the Arnolds and, as a consequence, would have to face the retribution of the Vackers, all because of Alex and Susan. Same Alex and Susan were already gone and enjoying their lives with no knowledge of what fate he was about to meet right now.

Miss Steph’s stare darkened. Mike’s denial only made her more furious. “Are you calling Mr. Arnold a liar? A young master of the only first-class family in the country?”

Mike collapsed to his knees. “Please… Miss Steph, please. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know!”

She kicked his hand off her leg. “You didn’t care to know.”

Desperate, he crawled to Gerald instead, groveling. “I’m sorry, sir. I had no idea! Please! Please! Forgive me.”

The head of security, seeing that the deputy manager himself was on his knees, blanched. He was finished. He quickly followed suit, begging just as pitifully. “Sir… please… we didn’t know who you were…”

Miss Steph looked down at them, her voice like thunder in silk. “This is what happens when you judge by appearances.”

She pulled out her phone and walked a few steps away. “Rico, send a team to Crimson & Crown immediately. There’s a problem that needs resolving.”

When she returned, she looked at the men groveling on the ground. “You’ll both learn respect—one way or another.”

She turned to Gerald and smiled. “Shall we go to the office, Mr. Arnold?”

Gerald nodded, glancing one last time at the trembling men on the ground.

Then, turning to the guards, she gave her final instruction. “Alex Lambert and his girlfriend are hereby banned from Crimson & Crown. Permanently. If I ever hear about or see them within this establishment, you'll regret you ever crossed paths with me.”

And with that, she led Gerald inside, Gerald almost couldn't believe it. He definitely could get used to this kind of treatment.