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
Rowland arrived at the Jones Company early that morning, the rain from the previous night still wet through his clothes. He walked into the building, his steps deliberate and slow. He avoided the approving looks from his colleagues by keeping his head down. Rowland was used to being treated like dung, especially from the Jones family, who were always reminding him of his lowly station in life. However, something felt off today; there was an odd tension in the air.After getting his cleaning supplies, he headed to the janitorial closet. His thoughts were elsewhere, with the word "Master" resounding in his mind as he considered the enigmatic card he had been given at the hospital. Who could have sent it? How come it was intended for him? He shook his head, attempting to ignore the ideas. It was time to get back to work. His task for the day was to remain focused and persevere.As usual, Rowland began scrubbing the floors in the corridor outside the senior management offices with great
“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
The rain had stopped, but the streets glistened with moisture, reflecting the dim light of the streetlamps. His thoughts were filled with questions and emotions. Could this actually be happening? The car came to a halt as the gates automatically swung open, and they drove down a long, manicured driveway lined with tall oak trees. The moment Rowland saw the Fence Family mansion clearly, his breath caught in his throat. It was huge, with a wide balcony supported by tall pillars that made it resemble a palace rather than a house. It was unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. The vehicle came to a stop in front of the main entrance. Edward held the door open for Rowland as he, Daniel, and Marcus got out first. "Master Rowland, this way," Edward said, bending slightly. Rowland paused for a moment before stepping outside, feeling the weight of his wet clothes and the cool night air. The enormous wooden doors opened as they arrived at the entrance. Rowland was astounded by what
"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
“What?! This cannot be true.” Rowland's heart was pounding in his chest as he walked up the grand driveway of the Jones mansion, looking tattered to avoid suspicion. Despite the sensation of a heavy weight dragging him down with every step, he persisted, mentally reliving the message he had received. "Amaya accepted Clinton's marriage proposal."For a moment, he wondered if it was a cruel joke or a misunderstanding. But for him to see the truth in her eyes, he needed to hear it from her.As he got closer to the entry, a knot of fear tightened in his stomach. The mansion towered over him, its lavish exterior a sharp contrast to the chaos he was experiencing within. His footsteps echoed on the floor as he entered, and the grandiosity of the house did nothing to calm his racing heart.The grand parlor, a palatial space with expensive artwork hanging on the walls and gilded furniture, was the gathering place for the Jones family. Amaya was sitting on Clinton's lap with her head leaning
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.
“What?! They did that to you? Mrs. Fence's nostrils flared, her anger barely contained. "That family has no idea who they are messing with. If I make just one call, the family's finances will be completely destroyed by the end of the week!It was clear from their remarks that Mr. and Mrs. Fence disapproved of Rowland's courtroom humiliation.It was Mr. Fence who finally spoke from his silent spot by the window. "Son, I know you want to exact revenge, but why hold off? At this point, you can destroy them. All of the power is at your disposal. You do not have to conceal yourself behind this... front."Rowland stayed put, his jaw clenched. "This is personal, Father. I do not want them to only know my true identity. I want them to feel the weight of their own stupidity, the agony of seeing someone they thought was beneath them soar to heights they can only imagine."With pride and concern in her eyes, Mrs. Fence folded her arms and gazed at her son. "And precisely how are you going to ac