His collateral

Chapter 10

"To what do I owe this late night visit, Mr. Charles?" Lucien asked, his voice bellowing as he descended the stairs. "I supposed we no longer have business between us."

The middle aged man in an undersized suit jacket seated on the sofa in the living room jolted up immediately like his seat was suddenly on fire. "Mr. Black." He started in a timid tone. "Pardon me for the impromptu visit but I am in great need of your help."

Lucien paused, the corner of his lips lifting into a smirk. "Help?" He repeated as if the word were foreign. "I don't render such a service." He said, resuming his walk. "Maybe you should explain what you mean by that."

"I need you to lend me money." The man said, his eyes flickering as he held Lucien's gaze. "I promise to pay back in four months."

Lucien chuckled deeply, settling onto the sofa, hands spreading across the armrest. "How much are we talking about?"

"Thirty million. No, thirty five million. Or it would be better if you could give me fifty instead."

"Make up your mind, Mr. Charles." Lucien said, voice dropping low. "We aren't playing a guessing game, are we?"

"No, Mr. Black. Sorry about my indecisiveness. I just—"

"Give me a number." Lucien said, cutting him off, fingers tapping impatiently on the armrest. "Save me the stress of listening to your ramblings."

Charles cleared his throat, adjusting his necktie. "Sixty million would do."

Sixty million. Lucien scoffed silently. He had expected the man to ask for a larger figure. A higher amount meant higher interest. His gaze fixed on the man sitting almost at the edge of his seat, eyes low on the floor. The desperation in his posture did not escape his notice. This was the kind of client he enjoyed dealing with. Their timid nature was easy to manipulate.

"What about a hundred million?"

The man's head lifted quickly.

A knowing smile spread across Lucien's lips. He had him.

"I can lend you that much as long as you pay back at the agreed date."

"Mr. Black. That amount is too much." His voice faltered. "Sixty is enough."

Lucien's eyes narrowed. A refusal. That was new.

"Mr. Charles." He started, leaning forward as his fingers intertwined. "Do you think you're not being strategic enough? This is the second time you've come to my estate this year asking for a loan. Taking a larger amount would reduce the number of times you run back and forth looking for money. I also promise to give you an interest discount if you agree to take the larger amount."

The man went silent. For a few seconds Lucien could read the contemplation in his eyes. He leaned back, pride swelling quietly in his chest. He was good at his job. No loan shark in the country could compete with his coercion skills. Once again he had caught another fish in his net.

"I beg to decline your generous offer, Mr. Black. I only need sixty million this time. Thank you for your concern but I don't want to take what I cannot repay."

Lucien's eyes snapped open. Disbelief flickered across his face.

Did this man just reject his offer?

He forced a smile, nodding as he reached for the intercom on the glass table and dialled a number.

"James. Bring me a loan form." He replaced the receiver, eyes still on the man sitting across from him. "Do you need something to drink? You look tense."

"Water would do." He said, voice trembling.

"Water? C’mon, you should have something to ease your mind." Lucien said, turning to a maid passing by. "Ask Mrs. Anne to bring two glasses of whiskey. Tell her to make it special."

"Yes, sir." The maid hurried away.

"I presume you like whiskey? Forgive me if I'm wrong. I can have something else brought for you."

"No. Whiskey is fine." The man replied, smiling nervously.

Lucien nodded, humming softly as his fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest.

"Boss, here's the form." James entered, handing him a file.

"Hand me a pen." Lucien placed the file on the table, taking a pen from james.

He scribbled on it for a few seconds before pushing it toward Charles. "Sign at the left corner."

Charles picked it up, studying it closely. His head shook with each page he turned. He closed it and placed it back on the table. "Forty million interest is too high for a loan of sixty million."

"Really?" Lucien said, seemingly surprised as he picked up the file and skimmed through it. "That's a fair amount. Ten million interest each month for four months."

"This is ten times what you charged me before. It was one million a month for a loan of thirty million last time. Have your company policies changed overnight, Mr. Black?" Charles' voice rose, seething with anger.

"Calm down, Mr. Charles. We can still negotiate." Lucien said calmly. "Serve him a glass." He said to Anne who approached carrying a tray with two glasses of whiskey.

Anne placed one before Charles and the other before Lucien before leaving quietly.

"Have a drink to calm yourself, Mr. Charles. Let's discuss and reach favorable terms." Lucien said, lifting his glass for a sip. "This is aged whiskey."

The man lifted his glass too, hesitating a second to watch Lucien drink from his before taking a sip.

A small smile tugged at Lucien's lips. "What do you think of the drink?"

"Strong taste. Perfect for a whiskey lover like me." Charles said, nodding. "Now back to business. One million a month interest is fine."

"One million? I gave you that rate because it was your first time borrowing from me. I will do nothing less than five."

"Okay, maybe four—" Charles said, coughing loudly. "Four is actually—" He coughed again, this time gripping his chest.

"Are you alright, Mr. Charles?"

He cleared his throat, still clutching his chest. "Get me water." Another round of coughing followed.

"Get him water, James." Lucien ordered, his eyes widening at the blood on the man's palm. "You're coughing blood."

"What did you put in my drink? You spiked it didn't you?"

"I wouldn't have if you had agreed to my terms." Lucien said, the manufactured panic dissolving from his face instantly. He leaned back against the sofa. "Hand me the file." He said, lifting his hand.

James handed him a new file.

He dropped it on the table. "Sign it. A hundred million loan. You pay me back two hundred million in three months."

"Never." Charles pushed it away, coughing up more blood.

Lucien scoffed. "You're a resilient man. I give you that. But I don't think you're aware of the kind of poison you ingested. Allow me to educate you."

"To hell with you, Mr. Black. I'll report you to the authorities the moment I leave here. You'll rot in jail."

"That's if you make it out of here alive." Lucien laughed. "Delaying will only cost you your life. In ten minutes your speech will become slurred and your vision will begin fading. Eventually the vessels in your heart will become blocked and unable to supply blood to your brain. You'll die a slow and painful death."

"I would rather die than sign those papers." Charles breathed weakly.

"Suit yourself." Lucien said, standing. "James, make sure his body is properly disposed of and have our man talented in forgery sign the papers. I'm getting the money either way from his family." He turned to leave.

"Wait." The man cried out.

Lucien paused, a triumphant smile spreading across his lips. "Yes, Mr. Charles?"

"I'll sign it. I'll sign your godforsaken papers, you criminal."

"Bring me the ink pad, james.”

He handed it over immediately.

"Press your thumb and mark it here."

Charles pressed his trembling thumb onto the paper, the faint imprint sealing a decision he could never take back.

“Good,” Lucien said, his voice smooth, almost pleased. “Give him the antidote.”

A small bottle was brought forward. Charles snatched it with shaking hands and swallowed its contents in one desperate gulp. He remained hunched over, chest rising and falling unevenly, as though waiting for permission to breathe again.

Lucien turned away, already losing interest.

He took a few steps, then stopped.

“Oh, and Mr. Charles.”

The man looked up weakly, fear still clinging to his eyes.

“Next time you find yourself in need of money,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, “come a little earlier.”

Lucien didn't wait for an answer.

“Have someone drive him home. I imagine he’s exhausted.” He ordered, his footsteps echoing as he climbed the stairs, leaving the man behind with the weight of what he had just agreed to.