Chapter 6:The First Step Towards Revenge
1504 Words
Chapter 6: The First Step Towards Revenge
"Well, well, if it isn't Dylan."
Dylan's blood went cold. He turned slowly.
Caleb stood near the entrance, flanked by two of his usual followers. Their smirks spread across their faces like a disease. Caleb's laugh cut through the quiet murmur of the boutique, sharp and mocking.
"What did I just hear?" Caleb's voice carried across the store. "You? Shopping? Here?"
A few customers turned to look. Some smiled. Others whispered behind their hands.
Dylan's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The boutique around them gleamed with wealth. Marble floors caught the light from crystal chandeliers overhead. Gold-trimmed mirrors reflected every angle, multiplying the luxury. Mannequins wore suits that cost more than most people made in a year, their blank faces judging everyone who walked past.
Caleb sauntered forward, his grin widening. "Look who crawled out of the gutter." His followers snickered on cue. "Dylan Chase. Shouldn't you be running errands somewhere? Fetching coffee? Washing cars?"
The worker who'd been harassing Dylan perked up. She gave a little bow toward Caleb, her tone syrupy. "Mr. Steele, I was just about to remove him. He obviously doesn't belong here."
"Obviously," Caleb agreed, his eyes never leaving Dylan's face.
Whispers broke out around them like wildfire.
"That's the errand boy, isn't it?"
"Look at his shoes. Scuffed to hell."
"How did he even get in here?"
"Isn't he the bastard son?"
"Shhh! The Steeles don't acknowledge him."
"God, Caleb is so handsome. I wish he'd noticed me instead."
Each whisper was a needle. Dylan felt them all, sharp and precise. His fists clenched at his sides, but he kept his chin up. Kept his breathing steady.
"I'm here to buy," Dylan said, his voice tight. "Same as everyone else."
Caleb threw his head back and laughed. "Buy? You?" He stepped closer, his expensive cologne filling the space between them. "What exactly would you buy here, Dylan? A tie? A pocket square? Or were you hoping to beg someone for charity?"
His friends laughed louder this time. A few customers joined in.
Dylan's teeth ground together. "I don't need charity."
"Really?" Caleb swept his arm toward the racks of designer suits, his gesture grand and mocking. "Then let me show you how it's done. Today, everything's on me. Consider it a gift. Let me buy you some dignity, since you clearly can't afford your own."
"I don't want anything from you."
Dylan turned to leave, but the worker stepped directly into his path. Her smile was venomous.
"You can't just walk in here, touch our merchandise, and leave empty-handed." Her voice rose loud enough for others to hear. "If you walk out now, I'll call security and report you as a thief. And trust me—everyone will believe me."
"You told me to leave!" Dylan shot back.
"That was before." She glanced at Caleb, her smile widening. "Now Mr. Steele is being generous. You should be grateful."
Dylan's chest heaved. His mind screamed at him to storm out, to tell them all to go to hell. But he saw the trap. The security guard by the door. The cameras in the corners. The eager faces waiting for him to make a scene.
"Fine," he said quietly. "Let's get this over with."
Caleb clapped his hands together. "That's the spirit! Now watch carefully, Dylan. This is how real men shop."
He moved through the aisles like he owned the place, plucking items from racks without looking at the prices.
“This suit?” He held it up for everyone to see. “It costs more than you’ve made all year at that pathetic part-time job at the bar.” He tossed it to a clerk, who scrambled to catch it.
"These shoes?" He grabbed a pair of Italian leather dress shoes. "Handmade. Custom. The kind that won't fall apart in the rain like those rags on your feet."
Another item landed on the growing pile.
"Silk shirt. Pure Italian fabric." Caleb ran his fingers over the material. "Breathes better than the gutter air you're used to."
On and on he went. Watches. Belts. Casual wear. Accessories. Each item more expensive than the last. He even picked out clothes for his friends, tossing jackets and shirts at them like he was handing out candy.
By the time he finished, the pile at the counter looked like a small mountain. Hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of merchandise, stacked high.
The other customers watched with a mix of admiration and envy. Some whispered about Caleb's taste. Others commented on his generosity.
Dylan stood to the side, silent. Watching. Waiting.
At the register, the cashier's face lit up like Christmas morning. She actually bowed. "Mr. Steele, what a pleasure. Welcome back."
Caleb leaned against the counter, all charm and confidence. "The pleasure's mine, sweetheart." He pulled out his black card with a flourish and slid it across the polished surface. "Ring it all up."
Dylan's heart pounded. Not with envy. Not with anger.
With anticipation.
The cashier swiped the card. The machine beeped once.
Then twice.
Her smile flickered.
"Is there a problem?" Caleb asked, his tone still light.
"I'm... I'm sorry, sir." The cashier's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Your card has been declined."
The words landed like a bomb.
Silence spread through the boutique like ripples in water. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned. Eyes widened.
Caleb blinked. "Declined?" He laughed, but it sounded wrong. Forced. "That's impossible. Try it again."
The cashier swiped the card a second time.
Declined.
"There must be a mistake," Caleb said, but his voice had lost some of its confidence. He snatched the card back and pulled out another one. "Use this."
She swiped it.
Declined.
A few people in the crowd started to murmur. Someone giggled.
Caleb's face twitched. His jaw clenched. He slapped down a third card. "Try this one. Now."
The cashier obeyed, her hands shaking slightly.
Declined.
Now the whispers weren't whispers anymore.
"Did that really just happen?"
"That's Caleb Steele, right?"
"I thought the Steeles were loaded."
"Three cards declined? What's going on?"
Caleb's ears burned red. His hands trembled as he stared at the pile of clothes on the counter. The clothes he'd so confidently picked out. The clothes he'd used to humiliate Dylan.
He turned and glared at Dylan, as if this was somehow his fault.
Dylan stepped forward. Calm. Collected.
"Having trouble?" His voice was soft, almost sympathetic.
He reached past Caleb and picked up the entire pile of clothes. Every single item. Then he placed his own card on the counter.
"Let me take care of it."
The boutique erupted in laughter. Not polite chuckles anymore, but real, genuine laughter.
"Is he serious?"
"If Steele's cards don't work, what makes him think—"
"Who even is this guy?"
The cashier looked at Dylan's card like it might bite her. She picked it up slowly, doubt clear in her eyes.
She swiped it.
Beep.
**APPROVED.**
The laughter died instantly.
Silence crashed over the boutique like a wave. Every person in the store stared at the register screen, then at Dylan, then back at the screen.
"No way," someone whispered.
"Did that just—"
"He paid?!"
"Steele's cards declined, but HIS went through?"
The whispers exploded into full conversations. Shocked voices bounced off the walls. People pulled out their phones, probably to text their friends about what they'd just witnessed.
Caleb stood frozen, his face cycling through emotions too fast to track. Shock. Disbelief. Rage. Humiliation.
His hands curled into fists. "That's... that's impossible."
The worker who'd tried to throw Dylan out stepped forward, her voice shrill. "This has to be fraud! There's no way someone like him has that kind of money. I'm calling the—"
"Enough."
The boutique manager appeared beside her, his face pale and tight with anger. Not at Dylan. At her.
"What is wrong with you?" he hissed. "The payment went through. That's all that matters."
"But sir—"
"You forgot your place." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "One more word and you're fired."
The worker's mouth snapped shut. She stepped back, her face flushed with shame and anger.
Dylan collected his bags. The clerk handed them over with shaking hands, her attitude completely different now. Respectful. Almost afraid.
Dylan didn't say a word. Didn't gloat. Didn't even look at Caleb.
He simply walked toward the exit, his head high, his steps steady.
Behind him, the boutique buzzed with conversation. But none of it was about how pathetic Dylan was anymore.
It was all about Caleb.
How his cards declined.
How Dylan Chase paid.
How the nobody from the gutter just outspent the golden boy of the Steele family.
Outside, the sunlight hit Dylan's face. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the bags in his hands. Feeling the satisfaction settle in his chest like warm honey.
For the first time in his life, he'd won.
And it felt even better than he'd imagined.
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