Too Rich to Beg

Chapter 003

Liam peered over Serena’s shoulder into the open box. Inside lay a dazzling platinum necklace, its fluid chain leading to a three-carat teardrop diamond that cast rainbows across Serena’s stunned face.

To the untrained eye, it was a masterpiece. To Liam, it was familiar territory. The Livingston Dynasty empire included luxury mining; Liam had grown up surrounded by diamonds, tutored by gemologists before algebra.

He recognized the design instantly: the "L'Amant de Rêve," the magnum opus of the legendary Tiffany. The authentic version featured exactly one hundred and eighty flawless diamonds centering on a pure Type IIa stone. Only ten existed worldwide, reserved exclusively for royalty and industry titans.

The necklace sitting in Warren West’s hand was a very convincing, high-quality fabrication. But to Liam, the lack of absolute fire in the center stone was as obvious as a neon sign. It was a fake.

"Serena," Warren West said, his voice dropping to a register of practiced intimacy. "I remember you mentioning once, years ago at a gala, that the Tiffany 'Dream Lover' was your ultimate desire. I spent months pulling strings. I called every contact I have in Europe."

He paused for effect, letting a shadow of regret cross his handsome features.

"But I have to be honest with you. I couldn't secure one of the original ten. They are simply not for sale." Warren sighed, shaking his head. "So, I did the next best thing. I commissioned a master jeweler to create a perfect replica using high-grade materials. It cost me one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It’s not the original, but I wanted you to have the beauty of the design, even if I couldn't give you the history. But trust me... give me a little more time, and I will find a way to put the real one around your neck."

Serena Montgomery looked at the sparkling jewels, her expression softening. The tension in her shoulders released.

"Warren, you didn't have to," she said, her voice breathy. She gently closed the lid, shielding her eyes from the glare. "I know how impossible the real ones are to find. The last time a 'Dream Lover' appeared at auction, it hammered for twenty-eight million dollars. It’s a myth, not a product. You shouldn't have spent so much on a replica, but... it is beautiful. Thank you."

Warren’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Twenty-eight million? His stomach gave a small, uncomfortable lurch. His liquid assets were hovering around three million. His entire net worth was perhaps thirty million on a good day. Buying a single necklace for twenty-eight million was a fantasy far beyond his reach.

He covered his shock with a smooth, self-deprecating chuckle. "Well, it seems the 'Dream Lover' really is a prize for kings. But for you, Serena, I'd say it's worth the hunt."

He moved to place the box in her hand, a gesture of ownership.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from the side.

Liam Livingston moved with a speed that belied his usual lethargy. He snatched the velvet box from Serena’s grasp before her fingers could even close around it.

"Liam?" Serena gasped.

"We don't want it," Liam said coldly.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the box. It spun through the air, the velvet catching the light, before crashing violently onto the dirty concrete sidewalk. The sound of the impact—a sharp crack followed by the skittering of expensive metal—echoed like a gunshot in the morning silence.

"It’s a fake," Liam declared, his voice cutting through the air. "My wife doesn't wear other men’s gifts, and she certainly doesn't wear knock-offs. If you like the 'Dream Lover,' Serena, I will buy you the real one. I won't have you insulted by this trash."

Without waiting for a response, Liam grabbed Serena’s wrist. His grip was firm, authoritative, a tactile contradiction to the passive man she thought she knew. He turned and began dragging her toward the glass revolving doors of Aegis Corp.

The scene had caused a stir. It was rush hour in Manhattan. The sidewalk was teeming with junior analysts, secretaries, and executives clutching their coffees. The sight of a man throwing a jewelry box and manhandling the beautiful CEO of Aegis Corp drew immediate attention. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through dry grass.

Serena stumbled, her high heels clacking unevenly on the pavement as she tried to keep up with Liam’s long strides. Her face burned with a mixture of shock and mortification. She was a public figure, a leader of industry, and here she was being part of a soap opera on the doorstep of her own building.

"Liam! What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, trying to wrench her arm free without causing a bigger scene. "You have no right! You have no right to throw away my things!"

Liam didn't stop. He didn't look back.

Behind them, the shock had worn off for Warren West, replaced by a volcanic surge of rage.

"You son of a bitch!" Warren roared, abandoning his gentlemanly facade entirely. "Stop right there!"

One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Lying in the dirt.

Warren felt the blood rush to his face. He sprinted after them, his expensive Italian loafers slapping against the pavement, and cut in front of Liam, blocking their path to the entrance. His chest heaved, and his finger jabbed aggressively toward Liam’s nose.

"Did you not hear me, you deaf moron?" Warren screamed, spitting slightly. "I told you to stop! That is a hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar custom piece! You threw it on the ground like garbage? If there is even a scratch on it—just one scratch—you will sell every organ in your body and still not be able to pay me back! Do you understand me?"

Liam stopped. He released Serena’s hand slowly. He looked at the finger pointing in his face, then raised his eyes to meet Warren's furious gaze. Liam’s expression was terrifyingly blank. He reached up and calmly swatted Warren's hand away, as if brushing off a fly.

"Listen closely," Liam said, his voice low but projected with absolute clarity. "I have three things to say to you."

He held up one finger.

"One. Serena Montgomery is my wife. You will keep your distance. You will learn your place."

He held up a second finger.

"Two. What my wife desires, I will provide. Tonight, I will put the authentic Tiffany 'Dream Lover' around her neck. Your cheap imitation is an insult to her beauty. It belongs in the gutter."

Liam paused. A corner of his mouth quirked upward into a smile that didn't reach his eyes—a smile of pure, aristocratic disdain.

He held up a third finger.

"And three. Good dogs know better than to block the path."

The insult hung in the air, heavier than the humidity.

Liam didn't wait for a reaction. He placed a hand on the small of Serena’s back—who was too stunned to resist—and guided her past the frozen Warren West, pushing through the revolving doors and into the cool, air-conditioned sanctuary of the Aegis Corp lobby.

Outside, Warren West stood trembling, his face a mask of purple rage. He watched the doors spin, watching the back of the man he considered a pathetic insect.

"You... you delusional piece of trash!" Warren screamed at the glass, oblivious to the staring crowd. "Riding a broken scooter and pretending you can buy a twenty-eight million dollar necklace? You are living in a fantasy world! I will crush you!"

His eyes darted around, looking for something to destroy, something to vent the chaotic energy surging through his limbs. His gaze landed on the Rusted Moped parked near the curb. The pathetic little electric scooter that Liam had arrived on.

With a primal growl, Warren lunged at it. He kicked the side panel with all the force of his frustration.

CRACK!

The cheap plastic bodywork shattered. Warren didn't stop. He kicked it again, and again, knocking it over, stomping on the handlebars, shattering the side mirrors. He destroyed the vehicle until it was nothing but a pile of metal and plastic scrap.

Breathing heavily, he adjusted his suit jacket, slicked back his hair, and walked back to retrieve the velvet box. He inspected the necklace frantically. Finding no damage, he let out a shaky breath, glared one last time at the office building, and climbed back into his McLaren Artura. The engine roared to life, and he peeled away, leaving tire marks on the asphalt.

Inside the executive suite of Aegis Corp, the atmosphere was frigid.

Serena Montgomery sat behind her massive mahogany desk. She was not looking at files. She was staring at Liam, her eyes brimming with tears of frustration and anger.

Liam stood by the water cooler, calmly filling a paper cup as if he hadn't just declared war on a millionaire in the street.

"Are you insane?" Serena finally whispered, her voice trembling. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

Liam took a sip of water. "I defended your honor."

"Honor?" Serena stood up, slamming her hands on the desk. "You destroyed a bridge! Warren West is a major player in construction. Rumor has it his backers are connected to The Livingston Dynasty! Aegis Corp is bleeding money. We need four million dollars by next week or we go under. Warren was my best lead for an investment! And you... you provoked him! You humiliated him!"

She paced behind her desk, running her hands through her hair.

"I knew it. I knew I shouldn't have let you come. Every time you are around, disaster follows. You make me look like a joke. How am I supposed to call him now? How am I supposed to ask for money after you threw his gift in the dirt?"

Liam crushed the paper cup in his hand and tossed it into the recycling bin. "You won't need his money. I told you, I’ll handle it."

"Get out," Serena said, pointing to the door. She couldn't stand to hear his delusions anymore. "Just get out of my office. I can't look at you."

"Fine," Liam said. "I'll see you tonight."

He turned and walked out, his stride measured and calm.

Serena collapsed into her chair, burying her face in her hands. Why was her life like this? All her friends from university had married bankers, doctors, heirs. They vacationed in The Hamptons and drove Porsches. And she was stuck with a man who rode a scooter and picked fights he couldn't win. She thought about the upcoming quarterly gathering at The Family Office. It was going to be a nightmare. Another evening of sneers and whispered insults.

Liam took the elevator down to the ground floor. He walked out of the building, the cool air of the lobby giving way to the heat of the city streets.

He headed toward the spot where he had parked. He stopped dead.

His Rusted Moped—his faithful companion through two years of poverty, the machine that had carried him through rain and snow when he couldn't afford a bus ticket—was a wreck. The frame was bent, the plastic casing was shattered into hundreds of shards, and the handlebars were twisted at an impossible angle.

"Son of a..." Liam’s voice trailed off. A deep, cold anger settled in his gut.

"Who did this?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the glass facade of the building. "Who touched my bike?"

Near the entrance, a group of Aegis Corp employees were on their smoke break. They looked over, snickering.

"Look, it's the Chairman's husband," a woman in a pencil skirt whispered loudly to her colleague.

"God, he looks pathetic," the other replied, blowing a plume of smoke. "Standing there crying over a pile of junk. I saw him earlier. He looks like a delivery boy. I honestly don't know what Serena was thinking. It’s embarrassing just to look at him."

"Typical loser behavior," a man in the group added, laughing. "A scooter? In this neighborhood? He should be fined for littering."

They laughed together, their voices dripping with the cruelty of the comfortable class.

Liam ignored them. He crouched down next to the wreckage of the moped. He ran his hand over the broken speedometer. This machine had cost him five hundred dollars—money he had scraped together by skipping meals. It represented his resilience. And Warren West had crushed it like it was nothing.

"You really are ruthless, aren't you?" Liam murmured to the broken machine. "Don't worry. I’ll make them pay for this. I’ll make them pay for everything."

He stood up. His posture changed. The slump of the defeated son-in-law vanished. He rolled his shoulders back, standing to his full height of six-foot-two.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He didn't hesitate this time. He dialed the number ending in six sixes.

The call connected instantly.

"Young Master?" a tremulous, elderly voice answered. It was Sloane, the personal secretary to The Chairman. "The Chairman has been waiting by the phone. Is it... is it good news?"

"Put him on," Liam said.

A moment later, the gravelly, powerful voice of The Chairman came on the line. "Liam. My boy. Have you made a decision?"

"I'm in," Liam said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I will step in. I will save The Livingston Dynasty and I will stabilize the markets. But I have conditions. And they are non-negotiable."

"Anything," The Chairman breathed. "Name it."

"First," Liam said, looking at the reflection of the sun in the glass tower above him. "I need a specific item. The Tiffany 'Dream Lover' necklace. The authentic one. I don't care who owns it, I don't care where it is. Buy it, steal it, I don't give a damn. Have it delivered to my hand before six o'clock tonight."

"Consider it done," The Chairman replied instantly. "And the second?"

Liam looked down at the twisted metal of his moped.

"The family has a construction subsidiary operating in Manhattan, correct? There is a man named Warren West associated with it."

"I can find him," The Chairman said.

"Good," Liam said, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "I want him erased. Not physically—that’s too easy. I want his assets frozen. I want his credit lines severed. I want his reputation incinerated. By the time the sun sets today, I want Warren West to be destitute. I want him to know what it feels like to be trash."

"Understood," The Chairman said. "Welcome home, Liam."

Liam hung up the phone. He looked at the shattered scooter one last time, then turned his back on the wreckage. He began to walk down the street, no longer the servant, but the master of the game. The dragon had not just awakened; it was hungry.