“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 trouble here. Just leave." Rowland swallowed hard, attempting to push back the wave of shame. He tried two more locations, including a run-down motel, and received the same cold reception. "Please go, you have no place here. Please leave." An old tenement building that had provided him with refuge in the past. However, it appeared that kindness had run out for him even in the streets. He stumbled toward the bridge, wet, exhausted, and with nowhere else to go. The city's noise died down to a low rumble beneath the bridge. Rowland discovered a dry spot near one of the support columns, which was hidden from view. The wind was sharp and chilly, and his clothes felt like an unwanted second skin. He huddled down, drawing his knees close to his chest in an attempt to conserve what little warmth he still had. He tried to ignore the sound of cars passing overhead by closing his eyes. Every now and then a pedestrian would shout or a horn would blare, breaking the din of engines. The city itself seemed to be mocking him and bringing all of his losses back to mind. Suddenly, he saw Lisa, Amaya’s cousin. "Is that not Lisa?" In a quiet voice, he asked himself. She was staring across the street at a sleek black sports car with longing eyes. The polished surface of the car reflected the streetlights, making it shine even in the low light. Lisa came to a halt and observed the vehicle from a distance. "Amaya could have this car if she would just accept Mr. Clinton and get over that poor Rowland." She smiled wistfully to herself and murmured. After giving the car one last look, she turned and drove away. Rowland watched her go, her words still resonating in his thoughts. He knew Mr. Clinton, a wealthy businessman with a track record of getting what he wanted. Rowland had a twinge of fear and jealousy. Was that what Amaya had been dealing with behind his back? The sound of the car's engine roared through his thoughts. It accelerated, moving slowly in his direction. Uncomfortably, Rowland moved away from the light and into the shadows. He had no desire for additional trouble. But the car decelerated, and it halted as it approached the underpass. With caution, Rowland observed as the doors opened and three men emerged. Their expressions were respectful but serious, and they were wearing sharp, spotless suits. They moved with quiet confidence, as if they knew they were in command. The men approached Rowland directly and stopped a few feet away, much to his surprise. Then, one by one, they bowed low to his complete confusion. "Master," the first man replied, his voice calm and clear. "We have been looking for you." Rowland blinked, his thoughts whirling. That word again, "Master." It was something he had heard on the hospital card before. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The other man, a little older and with graying temples, moved up. "We are representing the House of Fence. Those are my colleagues, Daniel and Marcus, and my name is Edward. We have orders to get you home, Master." "Home?" With a look of bewilderment, Rowland repeated. "I do not get it. I am homeless." Edward straightened, his face firm but respectful. "Master Rowland, there is a lot you need to know. We have been keeping an eye on you and your place for a considerable amount of time. We are here to carry out the orders of your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Fence." "My Parents?" Rowland's heartbeat quickened. He had no idea who his real family was. Grandpa Jones discovered him wandering the streets as a child and took him in. He had long since buried the thought that there was more to his past. "Yes," Edward answered, "we also came to the hospital to give the doctor a card so you can call us whenever you are ready and willing for us to come get you at home. But your call never came through.” Attempting to comprehend the magnitude of Edward's words, Rowland shook his head. "So, you were also the ones who paid the bills?" "Yes, Master." At that moment, Rowland's expression changed, showing that he was angry with the men. "Why now?" he questioned, his voice tense with shock. "Why did it not happen earlier?" Edward glanced at Daniel and Marcus and then started talking. "The situation is not simple. You can only receive an explanation from your mother and father." Rowland's gaze grew strained. "What if I am not interested in going with you?" Daniel moved forward, his face genuine. "Master Rowland, we recognize your reluctance, but we need your confidence. If you join us, you will discover everything about your true heritage and why you were abandoned on the streets. There is far more at stake than you realize." Rowland said nothing, his thoughts racing with different feelings. He took another look at the three men. Instead of coming across as intimidating, they seemed sincere. And that word, Master, it pulled at a memory that was just out of reach, something deep inside of him. At last, he reluctantly nodded. "Okay, I will come with you. But if this is some kind of trick…” Edward gave a weak smile. "Master Rowland, no tricks. Just the facts. And I guarantee, once you hear them, your life will never be the same."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
A new day dawned at Fence Emerald Company, one unlike any other. The sun was high in the sky, casting a soft golden hue across the modern building's glass facade. Inside, there was a palpable sense of anticipation, particularly among upper management. The unveiling of their most recent jewelry project, which they had been working on for months. A crowd of investors had gathered from all over the city to see what they thought would be a historic occasion for the company."Hey, fetch those files from my office and hand them over to the secretary right away." Amaya spoke while seated at the sizable mahogany conference table, her fingers tapping tensely on its glossy surface. She was the company's general manager, so she was well aware of the importance of this presentation. This was a critical day; success could propel the business to unprecedented heights, and failure? Well, the alternative was not failure. She looked over at Vice President Clinton, who was standing by the projector,
Amaya stood motionless, her eyes widening as Clinton's face turned a beet red with rage. By now, everyone in the room was on edge, trying to piece together this strange and unexpected turn of events, and the tension had reached a boiling point. Clinton's voice echoed again, this time with a loud, disbelieving tone. "Security! Get him out of here right now!" Clinton barked, pointing his finger at Rowland.The security officers entered the room right away. They were tall, dark-suited men who moved purposefully. They appeared prepared to drag Rowland out without hesitation. "You heard the Vice President; now move it!" The Chief Security guard stated.By contrast, Rowland maintained his composure and had an unflappable expression. He continued to stare at Clinton, but he felt a stab in his chest. He had not expected such blatant disrespect, especially from someone like Clinton. Just as a guard was about to take him by the arm, a sharp voice broke through the confusion."Stop there imme
"Never! I would never accept it!" Clinton was still enraged, "Fatima, you better watch what you say."Rowland, the former menial worker, received an official appointment as the project manager from his father. His heart thumped with humiliation and rage. Amaya stood beside him, witnessing the color drain from his face, but she too was unable to get over her shock. How was this even possible? How could Rowland, of all people, be granted such power?Amaya interrupted the silence. "Make a call to your parents. There must be a mistake." Although she spoke steadily, there was a hint of urgency in her tone. She did not have to tell Clinton twice. He grabbed his phone right away and dialed his father's number, hoping he would pick up. However, the phone rang, but his father was not answering at the time.He immediately dialed his father's second number, holding out hope that he would answer. Rather, the well-known tone of Khalid, his father's personal helper, responded. Clinton’s stomach