BRAIDED BROOD

Chapter 3

Chairman Kyle stood by a massive glass window at the Jupiter Company headquarters, staring out over the sprawling city skyline. The door clicked softly, and Secretary York walked into the executive suite.

“How did they react?” the chairman asked without turning around.

“I don’t think any of them will be coming, sir.”

The chairman let out a heavy, weathered sigh. “So not a single one of them understands how I feel. I can’t do all these things by myself any longer; I can’t run the company alone. I need one of them to help me…. I need a successor who will lead Jupiter’s company.”

“They’re all still quite young, sir.” The secretary responded gently.

“Being young isn’t an excuse," the Chairman countered, finally turning around. "But I’m sure I’ll see which one of them deserves the position by watching them live together and duke it out among themselves. Secretary York.” He called.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Make sure you get them to show their faces at my wedding. The world will be watching us that day. If I let them off the hook for their mistakes just because they’re young, it will all add up eventually and make them terrible people. And that will be detrimental to the Jupiter Company and Group as a whole.”

“I understand, Sir!”

Down at the gritty neighborhood mechanic workshop, Jeffery was deep under the hood of a vehicle when a screech of tires cut through the air. A man pulled up in a flashy car and began shouting at the manager.

“How many times has this been already?” The man shouted, slamming his hand on the hood. “So I have to pay for repairs again?”

“Sir, you will put us in a difficult position if you continue acting this way.” The manager replied in a low, weary tone. “But this isn’t my fault!”

“What's going on over there?” Jeffery asked his colleague. “Gosh! Not that guy again." His coworker groaned, tossing a wrench into a toolbox. "He’s a blogger.”

While they were still talking, the man shouted at the manager even more. “Hey! You! What did you idiots do to my car?”

Jeffery then asked, "But why is he shouting?”

“He did something to his car, and he's trying to blame it on us”. His colleague whispered. “How many times has it been already? And he keeps threatening to post a bad review of us online if we don’t fix it for free. Gosh!” His colleague was getting aggravated.

Without a word, Jeffery immediately started the car that he was working on. He revved the engine and drove straight into the blogger’s car, slamming into it until the door fell off and the side mirror shattered.

“HEY!” The man screamed, his face turning purple. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Not particularly,” he answered coolly as he stepped out of the wreck.

The man trembled with rage, stepping into Jeffery's space. “What? What did you just say? You little punk. Do you know how expensive this car is?” The man shrieked, grabbing Jeffery’s overalls.

Jeffery forcefully wrenched his hands away. I’m sure I know better than you.” He tossed a set of keys to the manager. “I’ll pay for the repairs of both cars. Get whatever you want fixed, but in exchange, you must apologize. Apologize and don’t come back here with this entitled act of yours ever again.” He pulled his own wallet out, extracted a black card, and tossed it directly to his stunned manager.

At the same time, Skyler was found missing.

“Where is Skyler? Where is Skyler?” his manager shouted, running through the corridors and stairs. “The live broadcast is about to start! He was supposed to be on standby! Where did he go?”

Meanwhile, Skyler was tucked away in a quiet stairway; he had his headphones securely on and a custom acoustic guitar resting on his lap. He was enjoying the vibes of his music with his eyes closed; the world outside the music ceased to exist. His phone was continuously ringing, but there was no response.

Across town at Jupiter’s flagship restaurant, Huxley lingered, enjoying a quiet moment, when one of the ladies whom he had slept with stormed in and shouted at him.

“How could you dump someone over a text?”

“What’s wrong with the text? I even sent an emoji,” he asked, offering a charming, entirely unapologetic chuckle. “Did I not send you a crying face?”

“You said I was your woman…”

“Oh, that….well, it’s true. Because all the women in this world are my women. That’s why I’m a bit busy.”

“Hey! KYLE JEFFERY!” She shrieked, attracting the attention of people in the restaurant. She snatched a glass of water, ready to drench him. But held back, drank the water instead, and breathed out heavily. “Is the rumor really true?” She asked.

“What rumor?”

“I heard that you grant girls one wish when you break up with them.”

He smiled, leaning in close. “Just say a word.”

Minutes later, they stood outside at the valet curb. She pointed at his favorite car, a triumphant smile on her face. With a careless shrug, Huxley tossed her the keys. She hopped in, revved the engine, and zoomed off. “There goes another one of my cars,” he let out a sigh of breath, completely unbothered as he turned to flag down a taxi.

Meanwhile, Chairman Kyle took his beautiful fiancée to his private estate on the island. Both dressed elegantly, they walked through the lush estate garden and smiled at each other like a pair of smitten teenagers.

“Oh! What’s that over there?” he asked, pointing toward the horizon.

The lady turned to look at what he was saying. “What? I don’t see anything here.” She looked at him, only to find his finger gently bopping her cheek.

“You fell for it again.” He laughed. “I loved how gullible you are.”

“Come on, Sir… I mean, honey.” She whispered, blushing deeply. “Oh! What’s that on your skirt, though?” He teased her again.

“Is there something on my skirt?” “What a nice bow.” He smiled. “Gosh! You drive me insane. You absolutely do.” She tapped his chest gently in a playful, romantic gesture.

She excused herself to make a call in one of the sun rooms. Once alone, her expression shifted instantly. The warmth vanished.

“No need to congratulate me yet," she said coldly into her phone, her voice dropping to a sharp, business-like tone. "I’m just getting started. His grandsons? They’re nothing to worry about. They are all predictable, spoiled third-generation conglomerates.”