The Ultimate Blackcard Revenge

Chapter 13

What did you just say?" James asked, his face turning red as his hands trembled with anger. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched tightly. "Charles, do you think you're some kind of big shot now?"

His voice dripped with mockery, but beneath it was a hint of something else—frustration, maybe even fear.

Charles remained calm, his posture relaxed as he looked James in the eye. "James, I'm not here for you," he said evenly. "I came to buy a car, and I suggest you do the same. I have more important things to do today than waste time on useless arguments."

James scoffed loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, look who finally grew a backbone." His lips curled into a smirk. "Tell me, Charles, where did you get the money to buy a car? Did you steal it?"

He crossed his arms and took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Stop pretending. We all know you're broke. No need to put on a fake show."

James then shifted his attention to Alison, who stood beside Charles. His gaze raked over her, eyes lingering on her striking features. There was curiosity in his expression, mixed with something more—greed.

His mind raced with questions. Was she Charles' wife? His girlfriend? No, that couldn't be right. A woman this beautiful wouldn’t waste her time on a nobody like Charles.

Turning his focus back to Alison, James flashed a smug smile. "Tell me, sweetheart, what exactly is this loser offering you? Whatever it is, I'll double it." He spread his arms confidently. "A woman like you shouldn’t waste her time on a man like him."

Alison’s face twisted in disgust, her eyes burning with fury. She scoffed and folded her arms. "No, thanks, Mr. James. You can keep your money and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine."

Gasps echoed from the onlookers who had gathered to watch the confrontation. A few even chuckled at Alison’s sharp remark.

James’ smirk instantly vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. His fists clenched at his sides. "How dare you speak to me like that?" His voice trembled with barely contained rage. "Do you even know who I am? Ask about my father, and you'll realize what a terrible mistake you're making."

He sneered at her, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You'll come crawling back, begging me—I guarantee it."

Charles let out a dry chuckle. "James, why are you always bragging about your dad?" He tilted his head slightly, his expression taunting. "Do you have no achievements of your own? Without him, you're just another spoiled brat."

The crowd murmured in shock. No one had ever dared to speak to James like that—especially not Charles.

James’ face darkened even further. He stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury. "You’ll regret this," he spat. "When I’m done with you, you’ll be on your knees, begging for mercy."

His breathing grew heavier as he struggled to control his temper. Then, with a sharp turn, he bellowed, "Where’s the manager of this place? Why would they let this lowlife in here?!"

A nervous salesman, Jack, rushed over, looking utterly terrified. "Sir, please calm down. We’re really sorry," Jack stammered, his face pale.

The moment he reached James, he practically dropped to his knees. "We’ll remove him from the store right away."

Jack turned to the security guards and signaled toward Charles and Alison. "Throw them out and make sure they never step foot in Regars Auto again."

The guards stepped forward, ready to carry out the order.

James folded his arms and smirked, satisfied with how things were playing out. He watched eagerly as the guards prepared to force Charles and Alison out.

Charles frowned, his patience thinning. "What kind of nonsense is this?" he barked. "Keep your hands off me!"

"If they resist, rough them up," James added, his smirk widening.

Before the guards could act, a firm voice rang through the showroom.

"Hold on!"

The entire room fell silent as the manager arrived, his sharp eyes scanning the situation.

Jack immediately paled, sweat forming on his forehead. He hadn’t expected the manager to show up. Worse still, he knew this man had zero tolerance for customer mistreatment.

The manager's gaze hardened. "Can someone tell me what’s going on here?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Jack scrambled to find an excuse. "Sir, this man was causing a disturbance, so I asked security to remove him," he said quickly. "He disrespected our top customer, Mr. James."

The manager frowned. "There are no ‘top customers’ here. Everyone is treated equally. Now, what started this commotion?"

Before Jack could weave another lie, Charles spoke up. "I came to buy a car, but instead of showing me the latest model, your salesman insulted me and told me to leave."

The manager’s brows furrowed. "Jack, is this true?"

Jack gulped. "Sir—Sir! I can explain!"

"Then explain," the manager snapped, "or you’ll be explaining to security while packing your desk."

Jack swallowed hard, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. "This man said he wanted to buy our most expensive model, but he doesn’t even own a business. He’s not successful like Mr. James, who’s been shopping here for a long time. So, I thought it was best to offer the car to Mr. James instead."

"That’s a complete lie," Charles cut in. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. He turned to the manager and recounted everything—from the rude phone call to the insults and public humiliation.

By the time he finished, Jack looked like he was about to faint.

The manager’s expression darkened. "Jack, do you even realize what you’ve done? You’ve embarrassed a customer and dragged our company’s name through the mud. You’re just a salesman. Who gave you the right to judge anyone?"

Jack dropped to his knees, hands clasped together. "Sir, please! I was only trying to do what’s best for the company!"

The manager scoffed. "And yet, you’ve done the exact opposite. Go to your desk, pack your things, and leave. You’re fired."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Jack’s face crumpled. His lips trembled as he realized his fate. "Sir, please don’t do this! This job is all I have! I don’t have any other source of income!"

Desperation filled his voice as he clutched the manager’s ankle. "I promise, I’ll change! Just give me one more chance!"

The manager yanked his leg away, his expression unreadable. "If you really cared about your job, you wouldn’t have treated a customer like garbage. Now, get out before I have security throw you out."

Jack continued to cry, but his begging fell on deaf ears. The guards grabbed him and dragged him toward the exit.

The manager then turned to Charles with an apologetic expression. "Mr. Charles, I sincerely regret what happened here. I’ve dealt with the issue, and I promise this won’t happen again."

James, who had been watching the entire thing unfold, felt his blood boil. How could the manager fire the very salesman who worshipped him? But he kept quiet, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

Charles nodded. "Thank you. Now, can I finally see the latest model? I’d like to know what I’m spending my money on."

Before the manager could respond, James quickly cut in. "I want to buy it too! And if you don’t know me, I’m James Grey, son of Mr. Grey. My family is one of the richest in this city."

The manager sighed. Of course, he knew who James was. Everyone did. But he also knew James and his family weren’t exactly known for their manners.

"Since both of you want the car," the manager said, "there’s only one fair way to settle this."

James smirked, assuming he’d be chosen.

"The car goes to whoever pays first," the manager continued. "No deposits. No half-payments. No checks. It will only be sold to the person who can immediately pay $10 million in full."

James’ jaw nearly hit the floor.

"$10 million?!" he blurted. He only had about $3 million in his account. He never actually planned on buying the car—just showing off.

Frantically, he fumbled for his phone. "Uh, hold on, I’ll just call my dad. He’ll send the money right away."

James quickly dialed his father’s number.

Beep, beep, beep.

His heart sank. His dad’s phone was turned off.

He tried again.

Beep, beep, beep.

Still off.

Before he could figure out what to do, Charles handed his card to the manager with a confident smile.

"I’ll pay for the car right now."

The entire showroom fell silent.

James froze, his face draining of color.

What the hell?

How could Charles, the illegitimate son, have $10 million just sitting in his account?!