Ultimately Rich Commoner: Path To Supremacy

Chapter 2 Sacked and Fallen

Wincing in pain, Warren forced himself up to the Baritone Resort, he got to the manager. "Warren, you look terrible, what happened to you?"

"Don't worry, I have come to you for half payment of my salary."

The manager gave him pitiful eyes, Warren had worked for him for almost a year now and within that period he was punctual, getting home deliveries done as extra while serving the people that came and went into the resort.

Giving him half of his salary for treatment was not a big deal; he expected the man to understand he had no money.

The man sighed. "My hands are tied, I can't help you."

Warren hit his hand on the table wincing from the pain in his rib. "I need it for treatment! Can't you fucking see?"

The man went flat for moments.

"Loser! Do you think I need you? You can die if you want, this is not a charity organisation!" He screams.

Warren hit his hand on the table again. "What! I worked for it, it's my sweat."

The man tore out a paper and slammed it on the table. "Get out, you're fired! I'm not giving you a dim! Fool."

He hissed.

Warren closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He knew the manager had never been kind to him. Why did bad things have to befall him at the same time? If he doesn't get his broken rib treated he won't be able to walk properly his whole life again. He desperately needed cash.

He takes the sack letter glancing through it. "I don't work for crumbs or beg from filth like you, it's my fucking sweat."

Warren shredded everything into pieces, he recalled the hefty amount he spent to order that ring from Saffaron for Kaylani, his heart ached as he walked out of the suite.

He got to the small bar by the side of the road. Expired drinks are going for a cheap price, his heart needs something to quench the thirst.

He grabbed the last coin in his pocket and paid for a drink over the counter.

He was given far more than the pence could afford, he gulped down a whole bottle every thought leading back to his bad life, the glimpse of hope that was temporary, his background, he remembers nothing no matter how hard he tried.

He stood up and jerked back. Everyone glanced down at him, his trousers ripped to pieces, and the colour faded. He looked like a madman, out of place.

"Get out of my way drunkard!" They looked down on him. "Who gave a peasant a drink! he can't hold his liquor."

He simply smiled, and a lady walked up to him with a scrutiny. "She broke my heart, she left me for a wealthy man." Warren scoffed, tears crumbled down his face.

"You're fucking laughing stock that can't offer anything. Just die!" A feminine voice cuts across the room.

Warren chuckled bitterly at the knots twisting in his stomach.

"Warren." The lady called, he stilled for a moment, scrutinizing her, her designer gown reeks of thousands of dollars, he didn't know her but she had guts. People who have come up to him have one interest in common.

"Are you here to mock me? Don't worry I'll cut you some slack. I'm useless, throw your garbage at me."

She sighed and removed her hat, Warren drew his face together like Mona Lisa. "Even a trash can is recyclable. You're useless. It's useful to me." Warren's eyes light up. He is sober. Who is standing before him and what kind of liquor is she high on, if she's sane she won't say something as ridiculous as this after all she exudes a luxurious aura.

Warren was shocked by this insensitive talk.

He knew he had nothing and he's been living a hard life, but he didn't think it would get to the level that strangers would approach him to set deals with him just to mock him.

Right now he wants the woman to admit to what is going through her head.

"How will I be useful? You've got a breadbasket for me, what? I'm not any better."

Warren chuckled bitterly, rubbing his hand across the bridge of his nose.

"I will pay you any amount, just for tomorrow night, pretend to be my husband." Warren walked away from her gibs,

Could he be dreaming? Such an eloquent woman demanding he should follow her to her house to be humiliated.

"You've met the wrong person." He stomped and staggered away from her, she followed him and pulled him close to her, their mouths breadth apart, Warren pushed her away, "Hey! What is going on? Get your hand off me! I'm poor, that doesn't mean you can take advantage of me."

Warren vanished into the shadows before he collapsed along the boulevard. Close to the bridge. He leaned his head on the beacon. He starts after some hours forward and finds pairs of shoes surfing beside him.

"Fuck!" He yelled, his head heating back furiously.

Maybe it's the best thing to do right now, crumbs of crazy thoughts smell through his lazy mind like a rotten fish.

A good for nobody like him, nobody will notice he's gone missing or he committed suicide to end his frustrating life.

Thirty minutes passed by, and Warren got up still staggering as he walked closer to the deck, his hands on the railing. Warren closed his hand instantly when he realized he was close to drowning, finally, he would become the fallen lord of Atlantis, he knew from the feeling he was getting he was broken.

Pitiful, there is no course to live for anymore!

He released his grip on the railing his leg steadfast on the deck in a few seconds he would be lost. Lost in the deep sea. Suddenly he was not feeling pain as he was, his feelings were healing up, he felt as if the pain coming from his body was gone, he was feeling numb.

Vroom. Vroom.

He slid, turning his head to look at who would come to the deserted bridge at such an hour.

"Young master!"

He tilted forward and back, he was certain there was no other person aside from on the bridge, this is all a dream he cleaned his ear with the ball of his hand.

"Young Master Warren, don't go over the bridge." The man dressed in an extravagant suit worth over a hundred thousand dollars rushed out of the Mercedes Maybach Exelero 2023 model and now down to Warren. "Young master, take my life instead, should that give you an outlet."