My Darling Ex-Wife Is Unaware I’m Rich

Chapter 18: Literacy of Power

The room carried the weight of memories, the scent of aged wood mingling with stale tobacco. Lenox stood near the doorway, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots was the only sound, punctuating the tense silence as he stared at the frail figure of Alphonse, his adoptive father, slumped in a king-size armchair.

Once a towering presence, Alphonse had been a man whose word could bend others to his will, a force of nature who commanded loyalty and fear in equal measure. But now, age had whittled him down, his frame thin and brittle. Still, the sharpness in his voice remained, an echo of the man he once was.

“How dare you show your face here?” Alphonse's voice sliced through the air. “After all I’ve done for you? After the life I gave you, you walk in here like this—a weakling?”

Lenox’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. His expression was stoic, carved from stone, his gaze steady and unyielding. Silence was his shield, one he had perfected over years of enduring Alphonse’s verbal assaults.

Alphonse straightened in his chair, his sunken eyes blazing. “Do I need to remind you where I found you? A filthy street rat, scrawny as a dying dog, covered in grime. You would’ve starved to death if it weren’t for me. Do you understand that?”

The words hit their mark, stirring the familiar embers of anger in Lenox’s chest, but he refused to let it show. Rage simmered beneath the surface, clawing to be unleashed, but he held it at bay, his silence a quiet defiance.

“And your mother,” Alphonse sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Your whore of a mother, who couldn’t even care enough to keep you. She left you to rot. She didn’t even look back when I took you in. Do you think she remembers you? Of course not. She wouldn’t have cared if you’d died in the streets.”

The venom in Alphonse’s words cut deep, but Lenox’s face betrayed nothing. He stood motionless, absorbing the barrage like a stone weathering a storm.

“I raised you!” Alphonse barked. “Gave you everything—food, shelter. I taught you how to survive! Without me, you’d be nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing!”

Lenox’s fingers twitched at his sides, his composure nearly cracking. But still, he said nothing.

“You think you’re a man now?” Alphonse pressed, his tone mocking. “You think you’ve outgrown me? That you can stand there, looking me in the eye, as if you’re my equal? You wouldn’t even have the clothes on your back if it weren’t for me!”

A flicker of something dark passed through Lenox’s amber eyes, but he remained silent, his restraint infuriating Alphonse further.

“You owe me,” Alphonse spat, his voice rising. “You owe me your life. And don’t you dare forget it!”

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Finally, Lenox exhaled slowly and turned toward the door. He had heard enough.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Alphonse demanded, his voice cracking as he leaned forward in his chair. His shout dissolved into a fit of coughing, his frailty momentarily betraying him.

Lenox paused at the doorframe but didn’t look back.

“Wait,” Alphonse barked, his tone shifting. “What about Maxwell?”

At the name, Lenox froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His shoulders stiffened, the tension in his body palpable.

“You think I don’t know what he’s planning?” Alphonse continued, his voice quieter now, almost conspiratorial. “His return is a challenge to you—to your claim as leader of the Silver Crescent clan. He’s back to take what he believes is his. Are you really going to let him?”

Lenox turned slightly, casting a cold glance over his shoulder. His face was unreadable, but the weight of his gaze silenced Alphonse for a moment.

“You’ve always hesitated when it comes to him,” Alphonse pressed. “That’s why people whisper. They wonder if you’re strong enough to lead. And now Maxwell is here to test you, to take what should be yours—what is mine. Do you understand me?”

Lenox turned fully now, his amber eyes locking onto Alphonse’s. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, and laced with steel. “How could it ever be my birthright?” he asked. “You’ve spent my entire life reminding me that I’m nothing but a bastard. That I’m not truly yours.”

Alphonse chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Still whining about that, are you? After all these years?” His laughter was hollow, devoid of humor.

“You think I cared about any of that?” he sneered. “No, boy. I made you who you are. Every insult, every hard lesson—it was for your own good. You’re the man you are because of me. And you should be grateful for it.”

Lenox’s gaze didn’t waver. The silence that followed wasn’t the same as before. It was charged with unspoken defiance, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Gratitude?” Lenox said at last, his voice rising for the first time. “That’s what you want from me?”

Alphonse waved a hand dismissively, leaning back into his chair. “I don’t need your gratitude. I need you to act. Handle Maxwell, or I’ll pull my support from the council. Do you hear me? Without me, you’ll have nothing!”

Lenox stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, his boots striking the wooden floor with deliberate force.

Alphonse watched him go, his scowl deepening. He muttered something under his breath, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a hesitation that betrayed his confidence.

As the door clicked shut behind Lenox, Alphonse leaned back in his chair, the fire in his voice extinguished. For the first time, he felt the weight of his words—the legacy he had forced upon the boy he had taken in. And for the first time, he wondered if Lenox’s silence wasn’t a sign of obedience, but the resolve of a man who was no longer willing to be controlled.

Meanwhile, outside the house, Lenox stepped into the cold night air. The silence of the street was a stark contrast to the storm raging in his mind. He clenched his fists, his thoughts circling around Maxwell and the challenge he represented.

But this wasn’t just about Maxwell. It was about the chains that had bound him to Alphonse for years, chains he now felt cracking under the weight of his growing defiance.

As Lenox disappeared into the shadows, a single thought consumed him.

The time had come to make a choice. And that choice would change everything.