The Ultimate Blackcard Revenge

Chapter 12

The next morning, Alison showed up at Charles’ house, bright and early, looking fresh and ready for the day. She was dressed in a stylish yet comfortable outfit, her heels clicking against the pavement as she walked toward his car.

Charles was already waiting for her, leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed. He looked calm, but there was a sharp determination in his eyes.

"Ready?" he asked as soon as she reached him.

"Of course," Alison said with a grin. "I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when you buy the most expensive car in the showroom."

Charles chuckled softly. "Let’s go, then."

They got into his car, and soon, they were on their way to Regar Motors Limited, one of the most well-known luxury car dealerships in the city. The drive was smooth, and the atmosphere inside the car was lighthearted. Alison kept talking about different car models she had researched online, giving her opinion on what would suit Charles best.

But as soon as they arrived at the dealership, her chatter stopped abruptly.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. The massive parking lot was filled with gleaming luxury cars, each one looking more expensive than the last. From sports cars to high-end SUVs, the entire place screamed wealth and prestige.

"Wow," she breathed out, unable to hide her awe. "This place looks like a billionaire’s playground."

Charles smirked. "Well, let’s see if they’re as welcoming as they claim to be."

They stepped inside, the cool air-conditioned space greeting them as they entered the showroom. Rows of high-end cars were displayed under bright lights, each one polished to perfection. The place smelled of fresh leather, new paint, and money.

Charles wasted no time and walked up to the receptionist's desk. The woman behind the counter barely looked up from her computer screen, chewing gum with complete disinterest.

"Good morning," Charles said politely. "I’d like to buy a car. Who should I speak with?"

The receptionist slowly lifted her gaze, giving him a quick glance before lazily pointing in the direction of one of the salesmen standing near the cars.

"Talk to him," she said, her voice bored, as if she had already decided he wasn’t worth her time.

Charles exchanged a look with Alison but said nothing. Instead, he simply nodded and walked over to the salesman.

The salesman was a young man in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked back with a little too much gel. He was in the middle of chatting with a coworker when Charles approached.

"Hey there," Charles greeted him. "I want to buy a car. I was told to speak with you."

The salesman barely spared him a glance before giving him a slow once-over. His lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Oh?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And what kind of car are you looking for? Let me show you some of our... affordable models."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "No, I want your newest model. I saw it on your website, and I think it suits me. I actually called yesterday, but I didn’t get much help."

At that, the salesman suddenly froze. His eyes widened slightly as if something had just clicked in his mind.

"Wait—you’re that guy?" he blurted out, his expression turning from amusement to outright disbelief. "The one I told to buzz off?"

Charles nodded.

The salesman let out a loud, mocking laugh. "Are you serious? Do you have a fever or something? There’s no way you can afford that car!"

Alison, who had been standing quietly beside Charles, stepped forward with an icy glare. "Excuse me?" she snapped. "How dare you talk to him like that? Do you even know who you're speaking to?"

The salesman rolled his eyes dramatically. "Lady, relax," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And who exactly is he? Some random guy off the street?"

Charles sighed and motioned for Alison to calm down. "I’ll handle it," he assured her before turning back to the salesman. "Aren’t you supposed to be showing me the car I want to buy?"

The salesman let out an exaggerated sigh, acting as if he was being forced to do something terribly exhausting. "Look, I don’t waste my time on just anyone," he said, crossing his arms. "If you really want me to show you that car, you’ll need to prove you're serious. Let’s see some ID."

Charles frowned. "ID? Since when do you ask customers for ID?"

"Since forever," the salesman lied smoothly, his smirk widening. "But only when the customer looks like... well, you." He motioned toward Charles’ simple outfit, making it clear that he had judged him based on appearance alone.

"Everyone else who walks in here smells like money," the salesman continued. "You? You look like you walked straight out of a discount store. There’s no record of a Charles Grey in the business world. So, you’re either playing pretend or wasting my time."

Alison gasped. "You have some nerve!" she hissed.

Before Charles could respond, something unexpected happened.

The salesman completely ignored him and suddenly rushed over to greet a new customer.

A man had just stepped inside the showroom, flanked by three towering bodyguards.

Charles turned to look—and his jaw nearly dropped.

It was James.

James, his stepbrother. The golden child. The legitimate heir. The one who had made Charles' childhood a living nightmare.

Memories flooded his mind. James stealing his food. James breaking his toys. James always made it seem like Charles was the troublemaker while he got away with everything.

The salesman practically bowed at James’ feet.

"Mr. James! What an honor! What car are you interested in today?"

James grinned, his voice loud enough for everyone in the showroom to hear. "I’m here for the latest model."

Gasps of admiration echoed through the room. People turned to stare, whispering among themselves.

Charles clenched his jaw. This was ridiculous.

He cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. "Excuse me," he said firmly. "But I asked to see that car first. Why are you offering it to him when you just told me no?"

The salesman looked startled as if he had forgotten Charles even existed. But before he could answer, James held up a finger, silencing him.

Then, with a smug smile, James strutted toward Charles.

"Well, well, well," he drawled. "If it isn’t my dear stepbrother." He dramatically squinted. "Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you under all that dust. Tough life, huh? How’s it been since you got thrown out like yesterday’s trash?"

Charles kept his expression neutral. "James."

"I didn’t expect to see you here," James continued, fake sympathy dripping from his words. "This is an exclusive dealership. Are you here to apply for a job? Or, wait—are you here to beg?" He chuckled.

Charles crossed his arms. "I’m here to buy a car."

James blinked. Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter.

"You?" he cackled. "Buy a car from here? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week!"

Charles didn’t flinch. "I’m actually here for the latest model."

James’ laughter died instantly. His smile twisted into a scowl. "Have you completely lost it?" he sneered. "Do I need to remind you who you are? You’re nothing in this city. You’re an unwanted son with no money, no influence, and no place here."

Charles’ hands clenched into fists, but he kept his voice steady. "I just want to buy the car and leave. I don’t have time for your nonsense."

James blocked his path and shoved him back slightly. "Where do you think you’re going? That car is mine. I don’t want your filthy hands near it."

Charles smirked, his anger boiling just beneath the surface. "We’ll see about that."

James’ jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring.

Tension crackled in the air.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.