The Billionaire's Hidden Son

Fate

Chapter 6

STEPHEN P.O.V

“Isn't it highly time you returned home, sir Stephen?” she said.

“Excuse me?” I replied.

I was both annoyed and perplexed by her question. Like, how the fûck could she ask someone she met at a party such a question? 

Her soft chuckle from the other end reminded me that the call hadn't ended yet. 

“I know you're confused, sir”

Can someone please ask her to stop addressing me as *sir?*

“But let's meet, and you'll understand everything better” her voice was filled with eagerness and hope as she said this.

Not knowing what to do, and I didn't want to prolong this conversation, I simply nodded my head, but quickly muttered “yes” when I realized she couldn't see me nodding.

There's no harm in investigating this woman's motive, right?

“I'll send you the address immediately we hang up. Let's meet in a few hours' time,”

Hold up… I hope I'm not going to regret this? Because, why do I sense so much urgency in her words?

“Alright, let's do that,” I said, still perplexed by her cryptic message. 

We ended the call, and I shoved my phone in my pants' pocket.

“What are you doing, Stephen?” Susan's voice suddenly boomed, and caught me off guard. 

I gave her a mean look, my perplexity turning into mild annoyance. 

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked, making my voice more assertive. 

She nodded eagerly. It's too obvious that she's very ready to help with whatever I need. That is something new. 

“Anything for you,” 

Anything for me? I smirked triumphantly at that statement, and the fact that she's so humble now that she wants something from me.

“Vamoose out of my way!” I ordered, catching her off guard. 

She was greatly taken aback by my tone, and quickly retreated, leaning against the bed for support. 

But she didn't let me move an inch, before jumping right in front of me again, and blocked my way.

“I won't let you leave until you go downstairs and tell my parents that you were just joking, and that you didn't know what came over you,” she yelled with a mixture of frustration and desperation. 

I could feel my anger rising already, but I tried my best to maintain my composure. I pushed her out of the way forcefully before walking out, leaving her to wallow in her frustration.

Walking inside the living room, Mr. and Mrs. Clinton quickly rose to their feet, their expressions were mixed with surprise and concern. 

“What the hell do you think you and your wife are doing? Is this some sort of prank?” Mr. Clinton asked, his voice filled with disbelief. 

I scoffed at his assumption. If only he knew this was nothing but the truth…well, I've already told them the truth, it's left for them to believe it or not.

“Bloody answer me!” Mr. Clinton growled. “Is this a joke or what?”

“Do I look like I am joking?” I retorted, feeling offended at how he cursed at me. “I have told you the truth. It's up to you to accept it or not”

Alright, I think I like the new me. 

“I'm heading out at the moment, and I'll be leaving this house when I come back,” I said firmly, my words laced with determination…then, stormed out.

As I stormed out of the house, I checked my pocket for some money. Luckily, I still had a few dollars left. 

After reaching the bus station, I flagged down a cab and gave the driver my address. I was ready to go and hear the woman out. 

Surely, she couldn't have lied to me, right?

********

“We are here,” the cab driver said, jolting me out of my deep thoughts. 

Stepping out of the cab, I was greeted by an enormous and extravagant mansion that seemed almost impossible. 

I had never seen such grandeur before. Even Susan's home isn't as gorgeous as this. What's happening? Am I having a vision of heaven? 

I pinched myself just to make sure, but it seemed that I was indeed awake. I approached the gate and pressed the intercom, prompting a well-dressed man to open it. 

The man glared and looked disgustingly at me, from my head to my toes, as though he's accessing my outfit.

“Young man, what are you doing here?” the man asked rudely. 

His question and tone of voice made me look at my outfit, then I bite my lower lip when I realized that I didn't quite fit into this opulent setting. 

But fûck whatever this buddy thinks. I was given this address and I had to come no matter what. 

"I'm here to see the president of Legion, electronic and more,” I replied, maintaining a cool and professional personality.  

However, my response elicited laughter from the man, who proceeded to scrutinize my appearance from head to toe again.

“Take a look around” he nodded at the building. “Do you think someone like you is supposed to come ten inches near a place like this?”

“Excuse me?”

“No, excuse me” he snapped. “Now, take a look at yourself…do you really think anyone…" he eyed my sneakers. “...just anyone can just see her? Are you out of your senses?” he scoffed.

This wasn't the first time I had faced humiliation, in fact, my fake in-laws humiliate me every single day, but I must say this man is the rudest man I've ever come across. 

“You should leave now,” he concluded in an *end of discussion* tone. 

I couldn't help but wonder why he thought I was here as a joke. 

“I want to see the president; she gave me this address herself,” I replied, holding on to my resolve. 

The man opened the gate, I was expecting him to usher me in, but he did the total opposite. He stepped out to meet me, and locked the gate.

My brows furrowed.

“I said you should leave, are you deaf?” he snarled.

“What?”

“I'll beat you up if you don't leave here this minute. Someone like you must not be seen around here,” he said, his voice filled with aggression. 

I'm dumbfounded, but ashamed of myself as well. I lowered my head, realizing that it wasn't entirely his fault, and he's right. 

He shoved me forcefully, causing me to stumble, almost falling onto the ground. 

Just as this was happening, a car drove into the scene and stopped at a meter away from us. 

Someone alighted from it, and to my utmost surprise, it was the same woman whom I met at the party, the same woman who had given me this address. 

“What do you think you're doing, Marcus?” she yelled, her voice filled with righteous anger as she approached us.  

The man stopped assaulting me abruptly.

“Welcome, Ms…" 

“Apologize to him right now!” she demanded, cutting him off.

Without hesitation or even giving the man a chance to apologize as she had demanded, she delivered a resounding slap across his face. 

“In fact, don't apologize, you're dismissed! How dare you do that to him!” she exclaimed, her voice seething with fury.

The man appeared visibly surprised, his expression revealing his astonishment that she had slapped him on my behalf. Confusion clouded my mind as I tried to comprehend the situation unfolding before me. 

“I am deeply sorry, ma'am. I know I made a mistake, but please don't take away my job. It's the only way I can take care of my family,” he pleaded, tears streaming down his face. 

Tears? How can a grown man shed tears so easily?

“Did the head of security train you guys to behave like this? Did he teach you to look down on people?” she asked, her voice firm yet filled with disappointment. 

“You're dismissed, as I said,” she concluded decisively. 

I stood there, speechless and unable to find the right words. How could she let him go because of me? The weight of the situation settled heavily upon my shoulders, and I felt the need to intervene.

“You have only one option,” she said, her voice carrying a sense of authority. 

The man quickly looked up, eagerly awaiting the opportunity. Similarly, I was curious to know what this option entailed. 

However, I couldn't help but ponder if this man truly deserved a chance to redeem himself. After all, he wasn't any different from Susan and her family… and one thing I hate most is privileged people looking down on the less privileged people.

“Apologize to him. He is the only one who will decide whether you're staying or not,” she stated, her words taking me aback. 

What?

I was surprised at the weight of responsibility she had just placed on me. Who am I to decide the fate of any individual?