Chapter 9

He turned off the car's engine and alighted the car. He raised his head to check out the name of the shopping mall.

“ShopGood.” He muttered to himself. Beside the name were initials, which made Maxwell know that he owned the shopping mall.

Mr. Jude had told him about a hathe ck of the identity of their various assets all over the world.

An initials of “S.D” was always added beneath the name of the asset, which stood for SkyDrive.

Maxwell sighed; he walked into the mall but was met by some uproar. A young girl of almost his age stood by the counter, with a pot-bellied man raining insults on her. The girl was no doubt the center of attraction, and Maxwell wondered why the man could be so harsh to rain insults on such a girl.

As he approached the inside of the mall, he began to understand what was going on.

“Where could you have seen such an amount of money? You are just a pauper living by the streets, I am sure you stole this money from someone.” The pot-bellied man shouted, and everyone present pointed their fingers at the girl.

“It's my money, I saved up for it.” The girl screamed in defense.

Maxwell felt the voice of the girl familiar, but he stood by a corner and watched the unfolding drama.

“You saved up for it? You are not even working, how then did you save up? I am sure no one will want to hire you as your presence spells misfortune.” The man coldly said, not minding the impact his words carried on the young girl.

“I don't care about whatever you say. It's my money, and I own it; I can use it to get whatever I want.” The girl insisted, but it seemed her voice wasn't enough to overpower the loud pot-bellied man.

Maxwell beckoned to one of the workers and asked for the man's identity.

“You mean the pot-bellied man?” A woman, who seemed like a cleaner asked Maxwell.

“Exactly, it's him,” Maxwell replied politely.

“He is the manager of the shopping mall, and he thinks of himself as a lord over the remaining workers. I pity the poor girl.” The cleaner said with a sigh.

“That means it's not his first time doing this?” Maxwell asked further, and the woman nodded.

“He is very corrupt, and he is always involved in bribery. He once had a similar fight with a young girl before he got the girl arrested and confiscated her money. He then threatened the girl to do his bidding, or else she would rot in jail.” The woman said with a bitter voice. One could tell that she would strangle the manager at a go if she was given the opportunity.

“His biddings?” Maxwell asked.

“Yes, he enjoyed defiling young girls so much, girls that are old enough to be his daughters.” The cleaner replied with a strong emotion. She truly felt for the girls, as some drops of tears rolled down her cheeks. She hurriedly wiped them off and apologized for her misconduct.

“It's alright; it's only natural for you to care for those girls,” Maxwell replied, and the cleaner smiled.

“I have some work to do; I will be on my way before he transfers his aggression to me.” The cleaner said, and Maxwell immediately excused her.

“Thank you for your time.” He muttered.

He settled his gaze back on the young girl and the manager. From the way the manager held the girl's hand, Maxwell knew for sure that the cleaner's words were right.

To get more evidence, Maxwell asked another woman who worked in the mall, and she said the same thing as the cleaner.

“What a crazy man,” Maxwell exclaimed and decided to intervene.

As he stepped forward, he was shocked to see the girl's face, she was his one and only friend, Clara. It had been over ten years since they last saw each other, they lost contact when Maxwell left the orphanage home first.

“Clara,” Maxwell called out, and the girl looked in his direction. Every other person present also shifted their gazes on Maxwell.

“Maxwell!” Clara screamed and ran towards Maxwell. She threw herself happily at him and was caught in Maxwell's warm hands.

There was a mumble all over the mall, as the two of them hugged each other.

“What's this poor physician doing here?” One of the crowd whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Maxwell didn't care about what she said and went on to confront the manager.

“She said it's her money, what right do you have to detain her? Do you even have any evidence to back up your claim of her stealing?” Maxwell said to the manager, who just wore a mischievous smirk.

“Evidence? Do I need any evidence against a pauper like her? My words alone are the evidence.” The manager yelled out in arrogance. He then gave Maxwell a bitter smile and moved closer to him.

“Young lad, I advise you to keep your hands off this matter and don't mess with me, or else I will make your life miserable.” The manager continued.

“What if I just want to mess with you?” Maxwell said in a calm and composed tone, not even a steak of fear could be noticed in his voice.

“Trust me, you don't want to. You wouldn't want to spend the rest of your lives in jail right?” The manager said ignorantly, not knowing that he was already biting more than he could chew.

They both stared into each other's eyeballs, each one of them fuming in anger, the tension in the mall increased every second as none of the guys wanted to back down.

After about five minutes of tension and heat, Maxwell threw his card to the cashier.

“I will pay for what she bought.” He said, and flung his gaze at the cashier, breaking the tension.

He pressed his pin, and the transaction was successful.

“Let's go,” Maxwell said, pulling Clara gently out of the mall.

“What do you need this for? Who are you mourning?” Maxwell asked Clara as they exited the mall. He glanced at the beautiful flowers and monuments in her hands.

“I bought it because of you, I remember that you do mourn your parents this day every year, so I have also been mourning them since the day you left the orphanage,” Clara said, which caused Maxwell's heart to warm. He pulled Clara closer and hugged her.

“Thank you, Clara.” He uttered, and Clara shook her head with a smile.

“Give me some minutes please,” Maxwell muttered and walked to a corner.

He took out his phone and placed a call to his assistant whom Mr Jude had assigned to him.

“The manager of ShopGood is a pot-bellied man right?” He asked over the phone.

“Yes my lord, he is.”

“Fire him!”