Under the bright afternoon sun of New York City, Matthew Donovan scooped a bowel full of water and splashed it on top of the dull sedan he was scrubbing down at the car wash.
His phone suddenly buzzed loudly, vibrating inside the pocket of his jeans. Calmly, Matthew wiped his damp hands before fishing out the phone. Glancing at the screen, a smile lit up his weary face. It was his girlfriend, Ashley, and she was just what he needed to brighten up his day.
He accepted the call. “Hey Ashley, what's up?”
“Matty, I need $300, like right away!” Ashley had a sweet voice, but as usual, she was very direct. “I just found this gorgeous necklace, and I want to buy it before someone snatches it away.”
The earlier smile on Matthew’s face quickly disappeared. He knew how much Ashley loved her jewelry, but he also didn't have that kind of money with him. “Uh… Ashley?”
He could sense her frown through the call. “What is it!?”
“I only have $200 on me right now. Can't it wait until—”
“No, Matt! It can't wait!” Ashley's sharp tone sliced through his excuse. “Why do I have to be the one with the lame boyfriend? Huh!? All my friends get whatever they want from their boyfriends when they ask for it! Why do you always make up excuses?”
Matthew swallowed, listening to her berate and admonish him.
“If you really cared about me, you'd make it happen. You think I want to walk around looking cheap? I need it now, Matthew. Right now!”
Matthew winced while his thoughts ran wild with what to do. He never liked when Ashley was unhappy and was always doing his best to keep her otherwise.
“Give me a second, Ashley, okay? I'll get the money for you right now. Okay?”
Ashley hesitated before saying, “Whatever.”
“I love you,” he muttered.
“Ugh! Just… get me the money!” The line went dead.
Matthew gazed at the screen of his phone for a moment, then he glanced at the clock on the wall, knowing Mr. Dempsey, the store manager, would be in his office now.
He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, took a deep breath and walked over to the small, cramped room that was labeled ‘Manager’s Office.’
Matthew knocked anxiously and when he heard a “Come in,” he pushed the door open and approached the balding, overweight man in a cheap suit seated behind a cluttered desk.
Mr. Dempsey didn't even bother to look up from his newspaper. "What is it, Matthew?" he grumbled.
“Mr Dempsey,” Matthew began nervously. “I was wondering if I could get an advance on my salary this week. I only need $200—”
“An advance!?” Dempsey spat, redness in his eyes. “What do you think I'm running here, you dumb kid? A charity? You don't even deserve a salary, talk more of an advance!”
“Sir, I have b— been your most hardworking employee,” Matthew stuttered. “I’m just in a little situation, and I really need that money.”
Dempsey slammed the newspaper down on his desk and Matthew flinched, taking a careful step backwards.
“Listen here, you little punk! I don't care about your situation because I already have mine to deal with. Do you ever see me asking for your help to deal with mine? Do you?!” he slammed the table once again.
Matthew shook his head slowly and mumbled, “No.”
“Exactly! You ask me for one more favor ever again, and I’ll see to it that you and that wretched look on your face are out of a job by the end of the day! Now get the hell out of my sight!”
Matthew's cheeks reddened with humiliation. He mumbled an apology and slowly retreated from Mr Dempsey's office. His shoulders were slumped down and his head was low in shame.
His life felt pathetic at that moment. Ashley was right. What kind of boyfriend can't provide for his girlfriend with the money she needs to live her best?
Matthew collapsed on the chair outside the car wash and pulled out his phone again, then shamefully transferred $150 to Ashley, leaving himself with just enough to get by until his next paycheck.
He gazed at his phone after. Waiting. Any moment now, Ashley would —
The phone buzzed.
“$150?! That’s all you could send? What am I supposed to do with this? You're useless, Matthew!”
Before he got the chance to speak, Ashley ended the call, leaving him devastated in the misery of his shortcomings.
What did he even intend to say? How could he defend himself? He was a nobody, working a dead-end job, and unable to provide for the girl he loved.
Frustrated, Matthew shoved the phone back into his pocket and slumped on the bench, burying his face in his hands.
He sat there for so long that he became oblivious to time passing. He didn’t notice the sleek, black luxury car that rolled into the lot or the couple seated inside.
The car — an expensive Bugatti Chiton — purred to a stop in front of the wash, and the owner of the car, a young handsome man in an expensive blazer, alighted the vehicle.
He walked over to the passenger seat and opened the door for the woman inside to step out. She was strikingly beautiful, young with glamorous long hair and a fancy dress.
She hugged the man and giggled playfully. “He’s such a loser! I can't stand him sometimes, gosh! He could never measure up to you, you know that, baby?”
The man smiled lewdly, holding her by her waist. “I know, baby.”
They kissed intensely then she told him she needed to go to the bathroom.
“Don’t be long,” the man said, before turning his focus to the pitiful looking boy sitting dejectedly on the bench.
"Hey!" the man barked, kicking Matthew's leg arrogantly. "Get your sorry ass up and wash my car. Now!”
Matthew jolted and snapped back to reality. “I’m so sorry, sir! I'm very sorry!”
“Sorry won't cut it, you idiot. You're paid to wash my car, so when I show up here, you get up from your seat and you wash my car! You get it?!”
“Yes, sir!” Matthew mumbled, keeping his face down as he grabbed the hose and began washing the fancy car.
“And don't you scratch it!” the man warned. “That paint costs more than you can ever earn in your life!”
Matthew tried his best to ignore the hurtful words and he continued to scrub the tires and wipe the windows. All that was in his mind was the harsh words his girlfriend had rained on him.
He thought of a way to make it up to her. Maybe once he got his salary, he could spend it all on a beautiful dress for her! That would make her really happy!
He scrubbed the rear window, his hand moving on autopilot as he wiped away the grime, while his thoughts were elsewhere. But then… Matthew saw something.
He paused. Was that underwear?
Using the cloth in his hand, Matthew picked up the fabric and yes it was underwear, a pair of pink fancy panties. And… yuck!
The underwear in Matthew's hand was stained with fresh semen, a clear sign that the couple had just been intimate in the car.
Holding the underwear, he frowned, trying to figure out why this underwear looked so familiar.
"Hey! Stay right there! Were you trying to steal from me?" A sudden shout from behind startled him.
"Oh, no, you’ve got it all wrong! I was just—" Matthew spun around, still holding the underwear, desperately trying to explain.
But his words trailed off as his eyes landed on his girlfriend, Ashley, staring at him with a look of pure fury.
Matthew was numb, his eyes were locked on Ashley but he just stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.Her expression shifted from anger to shock, and soon she began to avoid his gaze.As he connected the dots—the underwear in his hand, her earlier furious accusations, and the look on her face now—everything fell into place for Matthew.Now, she felt like a stranger. But a stranger's betrayal wouldn't cut this deep.“Ashley,” he finally managed to say, his voice was low and trembling with emotions that were barely restrained. “You cheated on me?”Ashley’s mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find the right words. Not that Matthew would believe a word out of her mouth.“Matthew, I—” she stammered, taking a hesitant step back. “It’s not what you think, I—”“Then what is it?!” Matthew found himself almost yelling. “How can you do this to me?! I’ve given you everything I could! All these years, all the sacrifices I made... was it not enough? Was I not enough?”“Well, isn'
Matthew sat on the cold, hard bench in the police station, his head still throbbing, his ribs aching and his entire body weary from the earlier ordeal.Out of nowhere, three men in black suits had arrived and picked him up from the car wash, forcefully taking him to the police station. So there he was, handcuffed with his face low as he regretted his life.He regretted ever meeting Ashley! He regretted falling in love with her!Policemen walked about in the station, there were low voices and the clattering of keys. It was a busy day, and no one cared to listen to his pleas of innocence.“Look at you,” Darrell Ferguson, who was standing just a few feet away, sneered. He was flanked by two officers who seemed more like his personal guards than upholders of the law.“Pathetic, useless thing. You thought you could stand up to me? You, a mere car washer against the man who runs this city? You're as stupid as you're poor! You’re nothing, Matthew. Nothing but a worthless piece of trash.”Eve
“Get him cleaned up!” the chief commanded the officer. “And bring him to my office. Now.”The officer, along with another that had just arrived, scrambled to obey. They lifted Matthew and half-dragged him to the station's medical room where they hastily patched up his wounds, cleaned the blood and urine with a wet rag, then wore him old, lost and found clothes.Although he was too dazed to comprehend what was happening, Matthew had caught snippets of their nervous conversation. Who was this Harold Wellington and why had he come for him? Matthew had no friends in high places, no connections to power. It made no sense.Within minutes, he was ushered into the chief's office where a man in an expensive tailored suit stood by the window, holding a briefcase. He had dark hair, and his eyes were sharp behind his pair of glasses as he assessed Matthew.‘Who is this?’ Matthew wondered. ‘What is going on?’“You harmed him,” the man said to the police chief once he was done with his assessment.
Matthew sat on the black, plush leather seat inside an expensive Jeep that was being driven by a stern chauffeur. In his mind, he was trying to put together the events that had just happened because none of it made sense to him.Maybe one of the men had hit his head so hard and he was imagining all of this. Beside him was Harold Wellington, the powerful lawyer who for some reason had come to his rescue. Although he felt too overwhelmed to ask them, Matthew needed his questions to be answered.“Why are you helping me?” Matthew finally asked Wellington. “I don’t even know who you are.”Wellington glanced at him briefly, an assuring look on his face. “I understand how confused and overwhelmed you might be after all of this. But I assure you it will be fine, Matthew. My name is Harold Wellington. I'm your family's lawyer—your true family, the Houston family.”Matthew blinked. “Houston family? I've heard that a lot today. I don't know who they are so I don't understand what you're talking
“So because you are the manager of some family business then you think you can mock me?” Matthew asked with a voice that even though was calm, carried his frustration of everything he had been through today.“Ah, so the hick can talk, hm?” Spencer Delacroix mocked, a shark-like grin on his face. “You should learn to watch your mouth. My family is very powerful. We even have deep ties with the Houston family, which is even why I'm here; to discuss business and cooperation. But instead, I have to endure the presence of a beggar like you, sullying this reception hall with your rags.”“You are the one who should learn to watch his mouth,” Wellington said with a stern voice. “The Delacroix family is a small enterprise, your family is barely worth half of the Houston family’s wealth. The matriarch of the family hasn’t even granted you an audience, and yet you dare to humiliate the young master of the Houston family?”Spencer's eyes widened with amusement and he glanced at Matthew, who was s
The presence of the matriarch commanded the utmost respect. She hadn't even said a word, and yet an aura oozed out of her as she walked into the reception hall. She was dressed in an elegant but understated suit, and she walked royally as though she was twenty years younger. Her hair was silver and had been impeccably styled and packed behind her head. The bodyguards that had opened the door for her walked dauntlessly by her sides and scanned the room with their military eyes. Spencer Delacroix gulped. But realizing that this was the woman he needed to impress, he did not waste any time, he rushed forward eagerly, walking past Wellington and Matthew, desperate to make a good impression despite the earlier fiasco. “Mrs Houston!” he said with a big smile. “It’s an honor to see you! I am Spenc—” But the old lady didn’t so much as glance in his direction. It was almost like he wasn't even there, like his presence was meaningless compared to the grandness of the matriarch. Her shar
Inside the Delacroix family’s corporate office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Spencer Delacroix stood in front of his father in his office, heart pounding, knowing how strict his father was and how much he'd fucked up.Across the large mahogany desk, Edgar Delacroix was glaring at his son with disappointment and anger. A slim, shrewd man in a suit was standing beside him, he was John Lockhart, their family lawyer, and in his hand was a file.“Father, I’m so sorry,” Spencer begged. “I did not realize wh—”“Shut up, Spencer!” Edgar roared. “Shut up and listen to Mr. Lockhart and what he has to say. You must realize the consequences of what you have done. He will list all the names of the powerful families that have severed their ties with the Delacroix business — our business!”Spencer's heart dropped.“Go ahead, Mr. Lockhart.”The shrewd lawyer turned over a page on the file. “The Valences, the Turners, the Maronis, the Carters, the Davidsons, and the Wests,” the lawyer announ
“Mrs Houston, I can't… I can't accept this amount of money. It's too much,” Matthew stuttered, too dumbfounded to take the card. The old lady chuckled softly, but her face still held seriousness in it. “Listen to me, Matthew. It’s understandable to feel overwhelmed. But as the heir to the Houston Empire, you have taken over a burden of responsibility. It’s important that you learn to spend your wealth, but spend it wisely. Money is a tool—a powerful one—and as a Houson, it’s essential that you use it. Secure not only your future but also the future of our family and our Empire.” She gave him the card and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “This money represents the hard work and sacrifices of our family, even more than that, it represents the struggle we went through in our search for you. It’s your responsibility to honor that legacy, and with time, you’ll learn how to spend, invest, and grow this fortune. But for now, take it one step at a time. Accept this gift with peace