Beaten by my ex, now I'm a Trillionaire Heir

Ch-4

The clerk aze flickered between the expensive designer clothes draped over Margaret Miller and the simple attire Nathan wore.

Margaret noticed the hesitation and immediately pounced. "You see? Even the clerk knows something is off. A street racoons like him could never afford such an expensive herb. He probably scammed someone for that card."

Jessica folded her arms, sneering. "Or maybe he found it in a trash can like the rat he is."

The clerk furrowed his brows, clearly uncertain. Then, in a bold move, he reached forward and placed his hand over the herb, blocking Nathan from taking it.

"I’m sorry, sir," the clerk said, forcing a polite smile. "But given the circumstances, I believe it’s best to let Madam Miller purchase the herb instead."

Nathan’s eyes darkened. "Given the circumstances?"

The clerk nodded. "Madam Miller is a well-known figure in the city, and you… well, you don’t exactly look like someone who can afford this."

Margaret smirked. "You hear that, Nathan? Even random nobodies can see what a joke you are."

Jessica covered her mouth mockingly. "I almost feel bad for him. He’s like a stray cat begging for scraps, but when someone throws him a bone, he actually thinks he belongs at the table."

Nathan’s grip tightened around the receipt. He could feel his patience slipping, the heat of his anger rising.

He exhaled slowly, his voice turning sharp. "Are you saying you’re refusing to sell me?"

The clerk shifted uncomfortably. "It’s just… Madam Miller is a loyal customer, and you… you’re an—"

"An orphan?" Jessica interrupted, grinning. "A broke, homeless reject?"

Margaret chuckled. "A nobody who had to crawl after my daughter like a starving dog?"

Nathan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t rise to their taunts. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on the clerk.

"First-come, first-served," he said coldly. "That’s the rule in any professional establishment. Are you telling me you’d rather break business ethics and lose your credibility just because this woman is throwing her weight around?"

The clerk stiffened. "It’s not like that—"

"Then what is it?" Nathan’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "You judged me based on how I look. You assumed I was beneath her. You ignored the fact that I paid first. Tell me—is this store in the habit of treating paying customers like garbage?"

Margaret scoffed. "Oh, drop the act, Nathan. No one here actually believes you earned that money. You think waving a fancy card suddenly makes you respectable? You’re still the same pathetic stray who chased after my daughter, hoping to be part of our world."

Jessica smirked. "It’s like dressing up a sewer rat in silk—it’s still a rat."

Nathan’s patience snapped. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous coldness.

"Manager," he said, turning to the clerk. "Call them. Now. Let’s see if your boss shares your discrimination."

The clerk hesitated before reluctantly picking up the phone.

Margaret crossed her arms, smug. "Go ahead. I have connections. Let’s see who they believe—me or a nameless nobody."

Nathan leaned against the counter, smirking. "We’ll see."

The manager arrived within minutes, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a belly that strained against his expensive suit. His beady eyes swept over the situation, lingering on Margaret Miller’s expensive jewelry before flicking to Nathan’s simple attire.

His lips curled in disdain. Another one of those nobodies trying to act rich.

"What’s the issue here?" the manager asked, his tone clipped.

Margaret wasted no time. "This nobody is trying to scam your store. He flashed a black card, but do you really think someone like him has money?"

Jessica snickered. "It’s so obvious. He’s like a mangy dog who snuck into a palace, thinking no one would notice."

Nathan exhaled sharply, his patience fraying. "I already paid for the herb. Your clerk is refusing to honor the transaction."

The manager didn’t even try to hide his sneer. "And why should I believe you over Madam Miller?"

Nathan’s eyes narrowed. "Because I have the receipt."

The manager scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "You could have stolen that card. Or maybe you found it in a dumpster. Let’s be real—you look like you don’t even belong in a place like this."

Margaret smirked. "Exactly. Do you see the difference between us? I own companies. My family is respected. This little street racoons?" She let out a laugh. "He’s just a stray trying to sit at the table with lions."

Jessica giggled. "More like a flea-ridden alley cat pretending to be a tiger."

Nathan clenched his jaw. Enough of this.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "You’re wasting my time. If none of you want to act professionally, let’s settle this another way."

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you calling the cops? Let me guess—you want to report us for bullying?" She feigned a gasp. "Oh no, someone call the pound, the stray is crying!"

Jessica burst out laughing. "Maybe he’s calling his imaginary rich uncle to come save him."

Nathan ignored them, his tone flat as he spoke into the phone. "Come inside. Now. Some people are not letting me buy."

Margaret rolled her eyes. "Who are you even calling? Some other loser?"

The manager crossed his arms. "Let me guess, you’re going to claim you know someone important?" He let out a dry chuckle. "Pathetic."

Nathan smirked. "You’ll see."

A moment later, the door swung open.

A woman stepped inside, her sharp heels clicking against the marble floor. Her cold, commanding presence sucked the air out of the room.

Harper Valente. General Manager of Imperial Corp.

The manager’s face drained of color.