The manager's gaze held a quiet authority as he beckoned me to share my story. "Please, tell me what happened," he said, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of accusations.I drew in a deep breath, feeling the weight of every judgmental stare that had followed me since I entered. "I paid for the platinum membership card before entering the mall,” I explained, my voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions churning within me. “I came here with the sole intention of shopping for clothes, nothing more. I have no reason to steal anything.”The sales girls tried to cut in, their voices sharp and erratic, but Mr. Damian raised his hand, silencing them with a gesture that spoke volumes of his desire for fairness.“Let him speak,” he declared firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “I want to hear his side of the story.”But even as I spoke, the salesgirls persisted in their attempts to interrupt, their voices growing more frantic with each passing moment. They tried to inject doubt into Mr
And so, I found myself alone again, surrounded by the quiet luxury of the mall. The air was rich with the smell of expensive things; each shop was like a chest full of treasures waiting to be discovered. I wasn’t just there to buy clothes—I was there to shape how the world would see me, to craft an image as sleek and polished as the shiny floors I walked on.I began at the high-end boutiques, where the air was scented with a blend of leather and perfume. Attendants, dressed as immaculately as the mannequins, greeted me with practiced smiles, their eyes subtly appraising. I nodded at them, my mind already sifting through the racks of designer suits and limited-edition watches.The first purchase was a suit, tailored to perfection, the fabric a whisper against my skin. The price was a mere drop in the ocean of my budget, and I handed over my card with a nonchalance that belied the thrill of the transaction.Next, I strolled into the jewelry store, the twinkling display of diamonds and g
I turned to face the direction of the source of the voice, my heart pounding in my chest, and there he was, approaching me. “Mr. Edmund?” I muttered with a hint of skepticism, relief flooding through me. “I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure if you were real.”He chuckled softly. “I assure you, young master, I am very real.” He was dressed impeccably, his demeanor calm and collected. “I’m Mr. Edmund,” he said with a smile on his face.I stood there, rooted to the spot as the elderly gentleman before me bowed deeply. "Please, rise. There's no need for all the…formalities," I urged, discomfort creeping into my voice.“Ah, but sir, it is my duty and honor to show the utmost respect to my master,” he replied, his voice a soft, melodious tone that spoke of a bygone era of decorum and deference.I was taken aback, my mind a whirlwind of confusion. “How can I be your master when we've only just met?" I questioned, my mind racing to piece together this unexpected puzzle.But the man, who had
A heavy silence descended upon us, punctuated only by the soft rustle of fabric as he lowered his head. Edmund's eyes, once bright with the wisdom of years, now glistened with the onset of tears. They clung to his lashes like dew on the verge of falling, each one a silent testament to the pain of secrets held too long.“Richard,” he began, his voice trembling with emotion, “there are truths that have long been concealed, burdens that I can no longer bear alone.”I watched as tears welled in his eyes, glistening like liquid diamonds in the dim light of the room. And then, like a dam breaking, the floodgates opened, and he poured forth the secrets that had haunted him for years.“Your mother," he said, his voice quivering like a taut string ready to snap, "she was a maid in your father’s employ, a woman of humble origins who captured his heart with her gentle spirit and unwavering devotion.”I listened in stunned silence as Edmund unraveled the story of my origins, each revelation pierc
RichardBeside me stood Edmund, my father's loyal friend and confidant. He was a beacon, guiding me through the murky waters of my father's past, his debts, and the tangled affairs he left behind.Our first meeting was with Mr. Thompson, a seasoned businessman who had worked closely with my father. His office was a testament to his success, adorned with accolades and framed photographs capturing moments of triumph.“Richard, good to see you stepping up,” Mr. Thompson greeted me warmly, extending his hand for a firm handshake.“Thank you, Mr. Thompson. It’s a big responsibility, but I’m ready for the challenge,” I replied, returning his handshake with confidence.The conversation flowed smoothly. Mr. Thompson was understanding of our situation and offered valuable insights into navigating the complex world of business negotiations.“You’ve got your father’s sharp mind, Richard. I have no doubt you’ll steer Megastar in the right direction,” Mr. Thompson remarked, a genuine smile gracing
Mrs. White (Amelia’s grandmother)Bathed in the warm glow of the early afternoon sun that filtered through the curtains, I sat comfortably in my favorite chair in the cozy sitting room, enjoying the warmth of a hot cup of coffee cradled in my hands, while the TV murmured in the background. The room had a charming feel as always, with family photos hanging on the walls and soft blankets draped over the couch, and I had spent countless hours in this space, half-watching the news.Casually, I flipped through the TV channels, my gaze drifting over the flickering images without much interest. That was until a familiar face appeared on the screen, and I leaned forward, adjusting my spectacles to get a clearer view.“Richard Thorne, the long lost son of Business Mogul and Billionaire, Mr. Archibald Thorne," the headline blared, as if the very letters were mocking me. I choked on my coffee, the bitter liquid catching in my throat as I stared in disbelief. It couldn't be the same Richard, coul
RichardThe first light of dawn hadn’t broken yet, but the gentle glow from my computer screen was enough to light up the room. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and focused on the message that had appeared.“Mission Completed! You Have Received 1 Ultra Point!”It was a simple note, but it felt like a warm handshake for my efforts, like a digital pat on the back confirming my recent success. An extra 1 ultra point means I have $1 million dollars added to my car. I thought about the things I could buy with that money—cars, companies, houses. Anything. I didn’t imagine my life would ever turn out to be this way but I’m so happy it did.Rolling out of bed, I stretched, feeling the weight of yesterday slide off my shoulders. But as I went through my morning routine, a thought nagged at me. I needed a personal assistant, a driver, and some bodyguards. I couldn't keep operating like some mid-level executive, not with the stakes so high. I made a mental note to contact Edmund about it later.
Amelia’s POV The moment I stepped through the door, the weight of failure hung heavily on my shoulders. My family’s expectant eyes, wide and unblinking, followed my every move. I didn't need to look in their eyes to know; the air was thick with anticipation, their anxieties almost undeniable. The silence was broken only by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging with the weight of the seconds that passed. A sorrowful exchange of glances danced between us, and with the fall of my gaze, their hearts sank.My grandma, Mrs. White, was the first to shatter the silence. “Well?" she demanded, her voice sharp as a knife's edge. “Amelia, darling, what happened?”I felt the collective breath of my family hitch as I hung my coat on the rack, my gaze lingering on the worn fabric, a silent testament to my defeat. My sad face must have betrayed the battle within.I swallowed hard, the words sticking like thorns in my throat. “Just like I told you, mother. He…he did not, an