SIX
835 Words
Michael's clothes were rumpled from the night before, faint traces of blood staining his shirt, yet his stride carried an unshakable calm.
Michael stopped before them.
His eyes flicked briefly to Alice who was staring daggers at him, but then shifted to Evelyn.
“I suppose this is your grandmother,” he said evenly.
Alice’s heart lurched.
Her eyes blazing with fury, silently screaming: Leave now!
But Michael ignored her.
Evelyn arched an eyebrow, her regal poise unshaken. “Alice,” she said slowly. “Do you know this young man?”
Alice’s jaw tightened. She forced a dismissive laugh, tossing her hair back as if to sweep him away like a shadow.
“No,” she said coldly. “Perhaps he’s just… a beggar.”
Her eyes flicked to his stained shirt, her tone laced with venom. “Judging by his clothes, it's very obvious.”
Her words cut sharply, but Michael didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at her.
Instead, he turned his calm gaze back to Evelyn.
“Ma’am,” he said with quiet gravity, “there is something wrong with you. You need urgent help. If not…” His voice lowered. “…you will die soon.”
Evelyn’s face froze, her expression faltering for the first time. “What…?”
She did not know what to make of what she had just heard.
A random man walking up to tell her she was going to die soon?
That was more than absurd.
Alice’s composure cracked, her fury exploding. “Enough!” she snapped, stepping between them like a shield.
To her, maybe Michael was not satisfied with the money she gave her, and he was just coming up with accusations to collect more money from her family.
“How dare you?” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “You don’t know me. You don’t know her. How could you spew such nonsense?”
“Leave this instant before I have you dragged away!”
Michael studied her for a moment, his gaze steady, unreadable.
Finally, he nodded once.
“Alright,” he said calmly. “Since you want me gone, I’ll leave.”
He could not save someone if they didn't want to be saved.
He only hoped that before they realized he was right, it wouldn't be too late for her.
Without another glance, he turned on his heel and walked away.
"Crazy things are happening these days," Evelyn muttered before entering the car.
Michael planned to head straight to the courthouse where Jen was going to sign the divorce papers and move on with his life.
But before he left the shore, he suddenly.
VRROOOM!
A deafening rumble of engines shattered the street’s quiet.
A fleet of luxury cars came to an abrupt stop right beside him. Their tinted windows reflected the curious faces of bystanders already gathering in a restless wave.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
“Who are they?”
“Look at those cars- Rolls Royce, Bentley… that’s old money!”
“Whoever owns them must be extremely wealthy.”
Before the whispers could swell further, the doors of the convoy swung open in near-perfect unison.
One by one, men in dark suits poured out.
And then—FWOOOSH!
Two of them unfurled a golden-edged silk cloth, sealing the scene from onlookers.
The crowd erupted in a frenzy, straining their necks, snapping pictures, yet they could barely capture anything.
The men in suits blocked every angle.
Reluctantly, the onlookers retreated, muttering with envy and awe, though their eyes lingered, desperate to witness whatever spectacle was about to unfold.
Among the bystanders stood Cynthia and Lucas.
They had just arrived on shore and were drawn to the spectacle.
“What’s going on?” Lucas muttered, curiosity narrowing his gaze.
Cynthia tilted her head, instead of reacting in awe like others, she was filled with jealousy.
"Pfft..." she scoffed. "Probably just overfed rich kids showing off."
"Let's get out of here." She said, dragging Lucas along, although he was still interested in the spectacle.
Behind the golden cloth, the door of the most luxurious car clicked open.
Silence crashed over the street.
A single elderly man stepped out. His silver hair was combed with precision.
His steps were calm, deliberate, and his aura was so commanding.
Michael froze.
The world around him blurred for a heartbeat as a torrent of memories surged into his mind.
He remembered the decree of his father, the day he was mercilessly cast out like trash.
And now… the man before him?
Michael’s eyes narrowed, and his blood began to boil.
This old man…
He was the butler. The ever-loyal shadow of his heartless, ungrateful father.
The man who had watched him be expelled from his own family, stripped of his name, his birthright, his dignity.
Michael’s lips curled into a cold sneer.
“Well, well…” he murmured, his voice a blade of ice. “Did the sun rise from the west today? Or has hell finally frozen over?”
- Writer
