Rowland remained rooted to the spot in the doctor’s office, his mind reeling from the unexpected news. Mrs. Patricia's surgery was paid for, and someone had referred to him as "master"? It didn't make any sense.He was just a poor orphan that was on the street before Grandpa Jones helped him out of his misery. Even though things are getting hard for him at the moment, at least he was not on the street anymore.“Doctor, did the person leave a name?” Rowland asked, his voice barely above a whisper.The doctor shook his head. “No, Mr. Rowland, they didn’t leave a name. But they did leave this card.” “What card is that doctor?” Rowland was absolutely curious, looking eager to see the card.The doctor reached into his desk and handed Rowland a small, white card with an embossed gold number on it. “They said you should call this number and that someone will come to pick you up.”Pick him up to where? At this point, Rowland was completely confused. First, he was being referred to as “Master

“You animal, get off the road!” A driver nearly brought Rowland down while traveling at a high speed.As Rowland walked on the wet sidewalk, the last words of Mr. Jones continued to echo in his mind. He had been thrown back into the streets, just as Grandpa Jones had discovered him years before, abandoned, hopeless, and with nowhere to turn. The city drenched in rain appeared to ridicule his suffering, with the lights illuminating the tall buildings above him like icy, heartless eyes."I am sorry, I did not see your car approaching." Rowland responded.However, the driver was less concerned with his explanation. "If you want to die, go somewhere else."With hopelessness weighing every step he took, his mind raced. Now, where could he go? The moment his luck changed, the people he had once considered friends abandoned him.In an attempt to track down an old friend, he went up to a small corner store, but the owner just gave him a scowl and shook his head."Rowland, we do not wish for

"Amaya, you have to file for divorce right away because that thing is a thief; you can not stay as his wife forever!" "Clinton is too rich to embarrass you, unlike that thing you call your husband. He would never steal." Mr. and Mrs. Jones sat at the dining table with Amaya and other members inside the lavish walls of the Jones mansion, increasing the pressure on Amaya. In order to obtain the contract they so desperately want from Clinton, they must ensure that Amaya follows through with her marriage to her. But Amaya was still proving to be a barrier. "I disagree with you guys. Rowland would never steal," Amaya said as she left for her room. "I wish I was in her shoes, I would immediately accept to marry Clinton. Who would not?" Healey thought to herself, feeling both frustrated and ashamed of Amaya at the moment. Mrs. Jones went straight to her husband and whispered, "We have to do whatever it takes to secure the other half of the contract. Amaya is stubborn, but she will come

In the large room of his parents, Rowland sat in silence, his head spinning from what had happened over the last few hours. He could not stop the dialogue with Amaya from replaying itself in his mind like a shattered record. Her harsh remarks, Clinton's chuckles, and the Jones family's laughter were all too real and raw. Mrs. Fence, his mother, sat opposite him, trying not to show her rage with her piercing eyes as she studied his face. Mr. Fence was visibly furious at what their son had been through as he paced the room in a deliberate and agitated manner. "They made fun of you in front of their family? That little Jones girl dared to treat you in that manner?" Mrs. Fence spoke in a tight, barely controlled rage. With his fingers tapping lightly on the chair's arm, Rowland maintained his composure despite having just lost someone he loved to Clinton. "I want to deal with them in my own way," he stated, his tone firm. "I do not want them to discover who I truly am. Not just yet.

A new day dawned at Fence Emerald Company, one unlike any other. The sun was high in the sky, casting a soft golden hue across the modern building's glass facade. Inside, there was a palpable sense of anticipation, particularly among upper management. The unveiling of their most recent jewelry project, which they had been working on for months. A crowd of investors had gathered from all over the city to see what they thought would be a historic occasion for the company."Hey, fetch those files from my office and hand them over to the secretary right away." Amaya spoke while seated at the sizable mahogany conference table, her fingers tapping tensely on its glossy surface. She was the company's general manager, so she was well aware of the importance of this presentation. This was a critical day; success could propel the business to unprecedented heights, and failure? Well, the alternative was not failure. She looked over at Vice President Clinton, who was standing by the projector,