I Am Rich Again

Chapter 8

"Co-owner? I'm certain you're mistaken," Modelisa suggested, rolling her eyes at the manager.

The manager, already appearing worried with his face flushed with rage, glanced at John, hoping he wouldn't lose his job.

John coughed and shook his head slightly, signaling to the manager not to reveal that information yet.

"You mean this poor excuse for an owner of this place? This jerk can't even manage his own life," Modelisa laughed loudly with her friends.

A crowd began to gather, drawn by the unfolding scene, murmuring amongst themselves.

"What's happening here?"

"Did he steal something?"

Passersby whispered various thoughts as they stared at John, who appeared disheveled.

After deciphering John's signal, the manager nodded subtly and changed his demeanor. "Everyone should be treated equally, and that's our motto in this store. No one is seen as less than another. We view each person who walks in here as a co-owner of this store because, without all of you, there would be no B-prime store."

The lie flowed smoothly, sinking deep into the hearts of those who listened. The manager glanced at John, who nodded in agreement.

"Oh, please, treat a thief like a thief. There's no need to sugarcoat it. This man is a thief, and don't say I didn't warn you against it," Modelisa hissed, glaring down at John.

John remained silent, a whirlwind of thoughts raging in his heart. "The same woman and her daughter, who stole everything from me, now refer to me as a thief," John thought bitterly.

"It doesn't matter. Everyone should be treated equally. Besides, no one is a thief or a criminal until proven guilty. In fact, I could label you as a thief right now without any evidence, and I'm certain you wouldn't appreciate the consequences of that," the manager remained firm.

"How dare you?! Do you know who I am?" Modelisa roared, her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"A former agricultural laborer," John interjected immediately, as if he had been waiting for her to finish her statement.

Modelisa's face turned red like hot coal. John remained calm, staring at her with bitterness as he remembered how impoverished he found her and her family. They had once seen him as their savior and treated him like royalty.

"So she's just a poor agricultural laborer," one of the onlookers chuckled.

"She certainly looks the part," another joined in with laughter.

"Damn!" Others laughed and pointed accusing fingers at Modelisa.

"You son of a bitch! How dare you?" Modelisa raged at John, her hands poised as if she wanted to scratch his face with her fingernails, but she was restrained by the guard.

"Did I lie? You should be proud of your past," John smirked as the cutting reminder struck directly at her heart, carefully and firmly deflating her inflated ego.

"Sir, please, let's go so I can tend to your injuries," the manager urged.

John nodded. "Thank you. After you."

"You bastard, I swear, you're going to hear from my daughter. She's going to make your life a living hell, I promise you that!" Modelisa continued to thunder while struggling with the guard, her rage flaming.

"The same daughter of yours that I helped make who she is now?" John chuckled, intentionally adding salt to Modelisa's wounded and crushed ego.

Onlookers laughed as John and the manager left for the manager's office. Upon entering, the manager immediately dropped to his knees. "Please forgive me, sir. I beg of you. I don't want to lose my job. My family will starve," he pleaded, his head bowed in complete contriteness, hands clasped firmly together near John's feet.

“Why should someone who has done absolutely nothing be punished? Isn’t that cruelty?” John began. “You have done nothing wrong. Stand up,” he said with a shrug.

"Sir, I know I was wrong. The guard shouldn't have treated you that way. I should carefully manage the affairs of the whole boutique. I'm really sorry, sir. Please forgive me." Michael remained on the floor.

"What is your name?" John asked with a gentle voice.

"Michael Johnson, sir," his head remained bowed low.

"Michael, no man should pay for the sins of another man. Each man is accountable for his actions. The whole ruckus that happened outside was out of your reach and your actions, so you won't be punished for it. But you see, this disobedience and refusal to heed my instructions and stand up is your own action, and this would cause you punishment.

"I guess that family you are wanting to feed so badly would have to starve because of your actions of disobedience," John concluded.

Michael quickly stood up from the floor with the speed of light. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"Once more, I am sorry about what happened. Miss B called me and informed me of your coming and that I should offer you every assistance needed as you get clothes and accessories. She even asked that the store be closed so that you would be able to do your clothes selection without disturbance," Michael said.

"That would not be necessary. No one needs to be deprived of shopping because of me," John said calmly.

"Okay, sir, if you say so." Michael nodded his head, hoping not to make any mistakes. "I will call one of the sales reps to assist you with new-fitting clothes and then summon some guards to accompany you while you browse the store to make your choices," he added.

"That will not be necessary. I can handle that. No one should know I am the co-owner of this store, and that's the reason I stopped you earlier from revealing that fact. There is a time for everything.

"And by the way, about the new clothes, I won't be needing those either. No one should be judged by the way they are dressed. A person's outward appearance never defines who they are, but the heart does," John quoted Miss B, finding her words one of his favorites thus far.

Michael looked at John with his brows furrowed. "What kind of man is this?" he asked himself.

"Okay, sir," Michael nodded without pressure.

John left the manager's office and entered the boutique, ready to begin his shopping. As he navigated through the different sections, he bumped into someone.

"What the hell?" The person whom John bumped into thundered, enrobed in a suit, his voice thick like the early morning mist.

"I'm sorry," John said courteously.

Turning to look, he realized it was Jeffery , his former best friend and his wife's boyfriend. It seemed like all his enemies had planned to visit the boutique that day.