EPISODE22:- THE WORTH OF A MAN
839 Words
Leo had just finished wiping down the chalkboard when his phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number flashed across the screen:
“Hurry. Layla Beaumont has been hospitalized. She wishes to see you.”
St. Meredith’s Private Hospital, Wing C, Room 407.
His heart skipped.
He didn’t even stop to grab his bag.
He was out the classroom door and into the afternoon traffic within minutes.
The hospital lobby was white and cold, the kind of clean that smells like fear and money.
He found his way to the private ward where a group of elegantly dressed girls stood near the door, whispering.
As soon as they saw him—creased uniform, worn shoes, sleeves rolled—they stopped whispering and stared.
Then one of them laughed quietly.
“Excuse me,” Leo said. “I’m here to see Layla Beaumont.”
One girl tilted her head, her pearl earrings catching the light.
“Oh, she actually asked for you? We thought she meant someone worthy of her, not a—” she looked him up and down “—commoner in rags.”
The others giggled behind manicured hands.
Leo said nothing. He was used to laughter like that; it had long ago lost its power to sting.
He walked past them and pushed the door open.
Inside, the room smelled faintly of medicine and lilies.
Layla lay pale against the sheets, eyes half-open.
She tried to smile when she saw him, but even that seemed to cost her energy.
“Hey,” Leo said softly, stepping closer.
She tried to lift her hand, weakly. He reached for it.
Immediately, a sharp voice cut through the air.
“Don’t touch her!” one of the girls shouted from behind. “You’ll infect her with those dirty hands!”
Leo froze but said nothing.
He simply adjusted her pillow and touched her wrist gently to check her temperature.
Layla blinked, her lips moving faintly.
“I feel dizzy,” she whispered. “My head… hurts.”
“I know,” Leo said, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Just rest.”
Her breathing slowed; exhaustion took over.
Within seconds, she had fallen asleep again.
The girls began whispering again, louder now.
“He must have given her something.”
“She looks worse since he came in.”
“Security! Someone call security!”
Leo turned slowly toward them, his patience thinning.
“Calm down,” he said. “She’s not sick because of me—she just needs food. When was the last time she ate?”
They looked at each other, startled by his tone.
Then one girl scoffed. “Food? What do you know about her kind of food? You think a cafeteria sandwich will fix her?”
Leo took a breath, steady and deliberate.
“Then tell me. What kind of food does a Beaumont eat when she’s weak?”
The loudest of them crossed her arms. “The best—something from The Sovereign Imperia Table.”
She smirked. “You probably don’t even know what that is.”
Another laughed. “Please, only top billionaires dine there. Even presidents need reservations!”
Leo’s expression didn’t change.
He simply pulled out his phone—simple, old, and cracked down the corner—and said calmly,
“Alright then. We’ll get her food from The Sovereign Imperia Table.”
The girls burst into laughter.
“He’s joking, right?”
“Did you hear the confidence?”
“Look at that phone! It probably can’t even call customer service.”
Leo ignored them and pressed a number.
The call connected almost immediately.
“Hello, this is Leo Grayson,” he said, his tone low and polite. “I’ll need a table prepared at The Sovereign Imperia Table and a chef’s recommendation to go. Make it ready in twenty minutes—I’m bringing friends.”
A pause. Then a clear, respectful voice replied through the receiver:
“Right away, Mr. Grayson. Your request will be prioritized.”
He ended the call, slid the phone into his pocket, and looked at the stunned faces around him.
“Shall we?” he said evenly. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then one of the girls whispered, “He’s bluffing.”
Another shrugged. “Fine. Let’s follow him. It’ll be fun to watch him embarrass himself.”
The three exchanged looks, grabbed their handbags, and trailed after him, still laughing under their breath.
Outside, one of them hailed an Uber.
“Let’s go, Mr. Janitor,” the boldest of them said mockingly. “Let’s see how far your cheap phone gets you.”
Leo opened the car door for them first, polite as ever.
“After you,” he said.
They slid inside, whispering and giggling.
He sat quietly beside them, staring out the window as the city lights blurred by — the sound of their laughter fading beneath the hum of destiny quietly catching up to them.
- Writer
