Charismatic Shoemaker Lloyd

Chapter4

*Charismatic shoemaker Llyod*

“I will tell you everything , but first you have to come with me.” Old Charles said.

Benton weary of the man and the bodyguard tried to escape. “I merely fixed the shoe on your request… i'm not going anywhere with you.”

Old Charles sighed looking down at the watch on his wrists, he signaled the body guards and a burlap sack was swamped into his head.

The old man let out a heavy sigh as he led Benton into the grand Lloyd family mansion.

The air was heavy with the scent of polished mahogany and old wealth, the kind that clung to every ornate chandelier and velvet drapery.

Just an hour ago, without a shred of consent, Old Charles had seized Benton, stuffed him into a coarse burlap sack, and dragged him to the prowling estate perched on the city’s edge.

A middle-aged woman strode into the room, her presence commanding attention. Her tailored Ralph Lauren suit, crisp and unyielding, reeks of power, while her Louboutin heels struck the floor with a rhythm that was both precise and predatory. Each click reverberated through the hall, a representation of authority.

Inside the sack, Benton thrashed, his muffled protests barely audible. “Old Charles, you’re terrifying the boy!” the woman snapped, her voice sharp but laced with concern. She crossed her arms, her gaze flickering between exasperation and worry. “Why in heaven’s name did you kidnap him?”

Old Charles bowed his head slightly, his weathered face betraying a mix of pride and defiance. “The young master is stubborn, my lady,” he said, his voice gravelly but firm. “He wouldn’t have come willingly.”

The woman’s eyes widened, her manicured fingers tightening around her wrists. “Tell me it’s not true,” she said, her tone urgent as she stepped closer to Old Charles, seizing his hands. “Did he really fix the shoe?”

“Yes, my lady,” Old Charles replied, his chest swelling with quiet triumph. “He’s the one. We’ve found the descendant of the Lloyd family. His extraordinary talent for designing shoes, proves he’s the cobbler we’ve been searching for all these years.”

They tugged Benton from the sack, his limbs trembling as he stumbled onto the cold marble. Disoriented, he blinked against the sudden light, his heart pounding like a trapped bird. Lady Lisa Lloyd stepped forward, her movements deliberate, as if sizing up a creature she wasn’t sure she could trust.

Her eyes, sharp and searching, locked onto his. “You fixed the shoe,” she said, her voice a blend of disbelief and reverence. “Who would’ve thought an ordinary cobbler like you would be the one.”

She paused, her gaze softening but still intense, as if trying to see through him to the truth beneath. “The Lloyd family is renowned across the world for our unparalleled shoemaking craft. The shoe you repaired it was your father’s creation, crafted with his magical talent. He never completed it. To protect you when you were hunted as a child, he passed his gift to you through means we still don’t fully understand. By the time we found his body, you were gone.” Her voice faltered, a c***k in her polishedfacade, and she swallowed hard. In a sudden, unguarded moment, she rushed forward, pulling Benton into a fierce embrace.

“The heavens have finally brought you back to us,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

Benton stood rigid, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. All his life, he had been an outsider, a man adrift in a world that seemed to have no place for him. He had no family, no siblings, only his work as a cobbler, the rhythmic tap of hammer on leather that gave his existence meaning. And then there was Avery, the woman who had become his everything. For her, he had endured betrayal, theft, and heartbreak, clinging to her as the only family he’d ever known. Now, this woman Lady Lisa—claimed to be his mother, and this mansion his home. It was too much, too sudden, like a tide threatening to sweep him away.

His voice erupted, raw and trembling with years of pent-up anger. “If you’re as rich as you claim, why didn’t you look harder for me?” He glared at Lisa, his fists clenched at his sides. “You left me to rot, alone, with nothing!”

Lisa’s face crumpled, her regal composure fracturing. She stepped closer, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know you’re angry, and I’m ashamed of what you’ve endured,” she said softly. “You’re my son, Benton. I never stopped searching. Neither did Old Charles.”

“When I heard of the extraordinary shoe design at the recent showcase, I knew it had to be you. I brought the shoe to you to be certain.”

Old Charles nodded, his expression solemn. “I told Lady Lisa how your designs were stolen,” he said quietly. “How the theft broke your spirit, nearly drove you to the edge.”

Lisa’s face twisted with pain and fury. “I can’t fathom what you’ve suffered,” she said, her voice shaking. “Especially after what Tyson's family did to you.”

Benton’s heart thundered, a storm of emotions crashing within him—loneliness, betrayal, and now this surreal claim of kinship. He searched Lisa’s face, desperate for signs of deceit, but found only raw sincerity. Could this woman, this mansion, this old man truly be his family? The thought tightened his chest, a mix of longing and fear. For years, he had believed he was alone, his only solace in his craft and Avery’s companionship. Now, his entire reality was unraveling.

Lisa’s hand rested gently on his shoulder, her touch warm but tentative. “We’ve searched for you for so long,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re home now, Benton. You’re one of us.”

Benton’s throat tightened, torn between the ache to believe her and the scars of abandonment that still burned. “I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “You just want to use me, to strip my skills for your gain. I’m leaving. I won’t listen to any more lies from you elites.”

Lisa’s eyes widened, but she didn’t falter. She reached into her pocket, a sleek black diamond debit card and a folder of documents were handed straight to Benton “At least take this,” she said, her voice steady but pleading. “The card holds your inheritance and your father’s. And a portion of our company in the city is yours to control. No one will ever steal your ideas or look down on you again.”

Benton froze, his breath catching. A company of his own? A card tied to the wealth of the legendary Lloyd family? It sounded like a dream or a trap.

“This is your chance,” Lisa continued, her eyes fierce with conviction. “To find those who killed your father and prove you’re a Lloyd.”

Old Charles stepped forward, handing Benton the company documents with a gentle nod. “Young master, there’s no need for rash decisions. Lady Lisa, your mother, understands your shock. Take your time.”

Benton’s hands trembled as he clutched the documents, his mind reeling. Lisa’s words echoed—Avery, his father’s killer, a family he never knew. He nodded slowly, gripping the papers tightly, caught between the weight of his past and the fragile hope of a new future.