The Art Of The UnderDog

Chapter 8

Tyler managed to break free from the grasp of one of the workers who had firmly held his wrist. With a determined stride, he led me into the manager's office, shutting the door behind him. Leaning his back against the door, he took heavy breaths, his eyes darting between the manager and his swivel chair. The manager, a bald-headed man, appeared both astonished and fearful upon witnessing Tyler's unexpected entrance.

"Please, who are you, and what are you doing in my office?" the manager asked abruptly, his voice trembling with fear. He anxiously adjusted his necktie, unable to hide his apprehension.

Amidst the chaos outside, the deafening sound of banging on the door reverberated through the room, accompanied by the shrill screams of the growing crowd. The atmosphere was filled with commotion and brouhaha, as if the very fabric of order was teetering on the brink of collapse. Tyler, realizing the dire consequences that awaited him should the unruly mob manage to breach the office doors, pressed his back firmly against the door, summoning every ounce of strength within him.

"Sir, I implore you, I really need to speak with you," Tyler pleaded, his breaths coming in rapid bursts as he strained against the relentless force exerted from the other side. Beads of sweat glistened on his face, evidence of the intense pressure he was facing. His legs trembled under the continuous push from outside, threatening to give way at any moment.

The manager's widened eyes reflected his growing apprehension. The gravity of the situation was becoming increasingly apparent, as he fumbled to unbutton his suit in a state of anxious distress. The urgency in Tyler's voice coupled with the escalating turmoil outside left the manager no choice but to seek answers.

"Open the door immediately, sir, or be prepared to face the wrath of the law!" the teller's voice pierced through the chaos, her threats blending with the persistent pounding of her knuckles against the door. Each strike resonated like a warning, ratcheting up the tension within the confined space.

The aggressive push from the crowd outside intensified, reaching an unprecedented level of aggression. Despite Tyler's valiant efforts, his feet lost their footing on the slick marble floor. His body began to sway, struggling to maintain stability against the relentless force applied from beyond the door. The slippery surface seemed determined to undermine his resilience, adding another layer of peril to an already precarious situation.

Left with no choice, Tyler moved away from the door, cautiously approaching the manager's desk, while the manager stood on the other side. Just as Tyler neared the desk, the door swung wide open, causing Tyler to swiftly turn around. It was Pauline, the blonde teller, who appeared visibly troubled and angry. Her eyes blazed with rage, beads of sweat adorning her forehead. Accompanying her were a group of security guards.

"Pauline, what's going on here?" the manager inquired, his narrowed gaze fixed on her.

"I am Tyler Francesco Domenico, the heir to the DamianoGroup of Companies. I was sent by my lawyer and manager to sign some documents at the bank. He mentioned that he had already informed you," Tyler explained, still catching his breath from his frantic attempts to escape and scale the counter.

"Heir of the Domenicos?" the manager asked, his countenance reflecting both confusion and astonishment. His eyes wandered over Tyler in disbelief.

"Exactly the same look I gave him when he told me," Tyler said, glancing between them, his head shaking vigorously. All he wanted was for them to believe his words.

"Young man, are you absolutely certain that you are the heir to the DamianoGroup of Companies?" the manager questioned, his uncertainty palpable. "I did receive a call from Fiorenzo mentioning that the heir would be coming to sign documents for the funds transfer."

"Yes, yes, I am," Tyler affirmed, nodding vigorously. Finally, a sense of relief washed over him as he noticed the manager beginning to consider the possibility of his story.

"No, sir, I am positive that this man is not the heir. He is simply an imposter. There's no way the heir of the DamianoGroup would appear so disheveled," the teller interjected disapprovingly, shaking her head. At that moment, the manager also regarded Tyler with a renewed disdain.

"Please, can you simply believe me when I tell you that I am the heir? If I'm not, then why am I here? How did I know about the documents that needed to be signed at the bank?" Tyler bombarded them with a flurry of questions, desperately seeking their trust and understanding.

"That is because you are a born liar and an imposter!" the teller exclaimed, her voice dripping with contempt. "You probably overheard Fiorenzo discussing matters with the real heir and cunningly maneuvered yourself here before the genuine heir arrived, hoping to snatch away their birthright. You're nothing but repulsive! I can only imagine what you've done to the true heir, and what on earth made you believe we would see you as the rightful successor with the way you're dressed. You look like a beggar from the eighties!" The teller continued her verbal assault on Tyler, her insults pouring out as she stepped forward.

The manager stood in stunned silence, trying to grasp the unfolding situation. His mind was struggling to fully comprehend what was happening before his eyes, as the conflicting claims and heated accusations reverberated through the room.

"What on earth are you saying? What are you even talking about?" Tyler exclaimed in exasperation, his frustration reaching a boiling point. He cursed under his breath and slammed the palm of his right hand against his forehead, a gesture of sheer disbelief. He felt utterly powerless, forced to endure this unwarranted drama, unable to find a way to convince them of his true identity.

"Silence! You wretched liar!" The teller escalated the confrontation, taking another step forward and delivering a stinging slap across Tyler's face. His eyes widened in shock, his hand remaining frozen on his cheek as he gawked at her in disbelief. He simply couldn't fathom what had just transpired, standing frozen in place, his mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

"Sir, please don't concern yourself with him. The security will handle this matter," the teller said, redirecting her attention to the manager. She extended her apologies for the disturbance Tyler had caused, and with a subtle signal, she commanded the security guards to take charge of Tyler.

"You're making a colossal mistake!" Tyler spat, his voice filled with a mixture of defiance and desperation, as the guards firmly held him, attempting to forcefully remove him from the manager's office.

"The only mistake here is your existence, you thief!" the teller retorted, her words laced with venom. With a sense of self-righteousness, she followed closely behind Tyler and the guards, determined to ensure that her accusations were not left unattended.