Rise Of Michael Jordan

Chapter 17

The flashing red-and-blue lights finally dimmed as the police packed up their notepads and left us standing by the wreck. Darren had spoken with them calmly, flashing his ID like it was a badge of immunity. They nodded, muttered something about “continuing the investigation,” and one of them turned to Darren.

“We’ll be in touch if we need more details. Expect a call.”

Darren gave them that sharp, clipped nod of his.

“No problem, officers.”

The cruisers rumbled away, leaving behind only the stench of burnt rubber and twisted steel. I stood with my eyes on the front of the car—hood crumpled, bumper hanging like a broken jaw, radiator dripping its last breath onto the asphalt.

Darren walked back over, hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes scanning the ruin. He let out a low whistle.

“I don’t think this heap’s making it to my father-in-law’s place anymore.”

I swallowed, guilt pressing heavy on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice low, the words tasting like ash.

Darren shook his head immediately, waving his hand like he was brushing dust off his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay. The car doesn’t matter that much to me. It’s old anyway. I was going to change it later.”

He studied me then, his gaze narrowing in a way that made me uncomfortable. His voice dropped.

“Kael… what’s going on that you’re not telling me?”

I looked away, jaw tightening.

“This about those people after your life?” he pressed, brows furrowed.

I drew a long breath, steadying myself.

“Let’s just head to your father-in-law’s house,” I muttered.

He looked like he wanted to push, but instead he nodded. We climbed back into the car. The engine coughed, sputtered, but still dragged us forward. The drive was stiff and silent, the kind where thoughts thudded louder than words.

By the time we pulled up to the estate, the place was alive with movement. Cars lined the front like polished soldiers, doors swinging open as Mira’s elders spilled out, their suits pressed sharp, their expressions colder than stone.

As soon as we stepped out, Seraphine and her husband Julien came forward, her presence cutting like a blade. Darren dipped his head politely in greeting, but her eyes bypassed him entirely, locking straight onto me with venom that curled her lips.

“Who the hell gave this brat permission to set foot here?” Seraphine’s voice cracked through the air like a whip. “You dare come here, after the embarrassment you dragged this family through? Do you even still believe you have a right to stand among us?”

Her eyes glittered with hate.

“I never forget, Kael. And I promise you, I’ll make sure you regret that day.”

Her hand flicked, dismissive, venomous.

“Leave this house. Now.”

Before I could answer, a deeper, thunderous voice rolled from the villa’s front steps.

“And who the hell do you think you are, Seraphine, to send away my guest?”

Everyone turned. Mr. Lucien Delacroix himself strode out, his presence filling the courtyard, his cane striking against the marble tiles with authority.

Seraphine spun, stunned.

“Father—what? You invited him? Why?”

Lucien’s eyes flared.

“Do I need to ask for your permission, daughter, before I welcome someone into my own villa?”

Her face twisted, half fury, half disbelief.

“He’s an assassin! A disgrace! And you humiliate me in front of everyone for him?”

Lucien’s cane struck the ground hard.

“Better to host an assassin with honor than to have a daughter who spits venom without wisdom!”

Seraphine staggered back at the words as if he’d slapped her.

“You… you’d speak to me like this? All because of him?”

Lucien’s stare didn’t waver.

“If respect is something you demand, then learn to give it first. You shame yourself, not me.”

Her chest heaved, rage shaking her voice.

“Fine. Protect him then. But mark my words, Father—I will make Kael regret ever stepping foot here!”

She turned on her heel, skirts snapping in her wake as she stormed off.

“Seraphine—wait!” Julien called, rushing after her, but she ignored him, vanishing inside.

The courtyard went heavy and quiet. Lucien finally turned to me, his eyes softer than before, though still sharp with weight.

“Come inside, Kael,” he said firmly. “You are my guest. Let no one tell you otherwise.”

I drew a slow breath, nodding, and followed him past the threshold.

The dining hall shimmered with polished chandeliers. The fragrance of roasted duck and spiced wine hung in the air, but no one reached for their cutlery yet.

We’d all filed in—Darren, myself, and the rest of the Delacroix family—everyone except Seraphine and Julien who still lingered outside.

I sat beside Darren, his jaw tight, the weight of the evening pressing against him more than he would admit. Opposite us sat Mira’s siblings, whispering behind their smiles, eyes gleaming with that particular Delacroix superiority.

The chairs creaked as everyone settled. Conversation hummed lightly until Victor—the oldest son—cleared his throat and stood up. All eyes shifted to him.

“Before we begin eating,” he said with a flourish, “I have something for our father. A token, if you will, for a man who deserves the very best.”

He reached into a small velvet case and lifted out a gleaming watch—platinum, studded with diamonds so fine they caught the candlelight like shards of ice.

Gasps erupted.

“Magnificent.”

“That’s the latest model, isn’t it?”

“Victor never fails to impress.”

“Ah, so exquisite—only the best for Lucien Delacroix!”

The murmurs swelled, rich with admiration. Father Lucien leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly as Victor fastened the watch around his wrist.

Then another of the brothers rose, determined not to be outshone. He presented a rare vintage bottle of Château Margaux, its label faded with history but worth more than most people’s yearly wages.

“This,” he said proudly, “is from the year of your birth, Father. Priceless.”

Again, the room rippled with praise.

“Astonishing.”

“Only someone with true taste would think of such a gift.”

“A treasure fit for a king.”

One after the other, gifts followed—hand-tailored suits from Milan, a signed portrait from an artist renowned across Europe, a golden fountain pen said to have belonged to a French diplomat.

Each unveiling brought another round of applause, of murmured wows and gleeful exclamations. The air thickened with envy, pride, and that unspoken competition that seemed natural among the Delacroix heirs.

Then, one voice cut through the chatter.

“And what about Darren?”

Silence fell. Eyes swiveled toward him—sharp, calculating, cruelly amused. A few lips curved into smirks.

“What could he possibly bring?”

“He’s no Delacroix.”

“Probably nothing of worth.”

“A son-in-law cannot compete with true blood.”

The murmuring grew, low but poisonous. Darren’s shoulders stiffened, but before the mockery deepened further, I pushed back my chair and stood.

“My brother did have a gift for Father Lucien,” I said, my voice steady, my gaze sweeping across the table. “But on our way here… unfortunate circumstances prevented us from bringing it in.”

Laughter burst from Mira’s siblings, sharp and biting.

“Unfortunate circumstances, indeed.”

“Convenient excuse.”

“Pathetic.”

Their laughter echoed, but I didn’t flinch. I let it run its course, then raised my voice just enough to slice through the mockery.

“However,” I continued, “what we could not bring in hand, we bring in news.”

That silenced them. Even the clinking of cutlery stilled. Dozens of eyes fixed on me—curiosity, suspicion, disdain.

“What news?” someone murmured.

“What could he possibly mean?”

“He always talks as if he matters.”

Mr. Lucien’s deep voice rumbled, cutting through the whispers. “Let him speak. Go on, Kael.”

I inclined my head in respect before meeting Lucien’s gaze directly.

“Sir,” I said, “I am pleased to inform you that the contract with the Voss company is secured. Miss Seraphina herself has agreed to sign with Delacroix.”

The words landed like thunder.

The table erupted—shocked gasps, furious whispers, disbelief burning in every voice.

“Impossible!”

“That cannot be!”

“How could Seraphina agree to him?”

“There’s no way—no way Kael could reach her.”

I stood there holding Lucien’s eyes as the storm swirled. Because I knew this news was heavier than any watch, pen, or bottle of wine could ever be.

Lucien’s eyes pinned me, sharp and skeptical. His voice finally cut through the heavy silence.

“How should I believe you, Kael?”

The corner of my mouth tugged upward. I’d been expecting that. “I heard your birthday is in a few days,” I said evenly, watching his brows twitch. “The contract will be signed then.”

For a moment, nothing. Then Lucien leaned back and threw his head back in laughter. The sound filled the entire room, a mocking echo that rattled the quiet tension. His laughter stretched until it bordered on cruelty, and then he wiped his eyes, smirking.

“Fine,” he said at last, the grin lingering on his lips. “That will be the best gift I’ve ever received on my birthday.”

I could’ve stopped there. I should’ve stopped there. But my chest tightened with the weight of what I had carried into this room. My throat worked as I said, “But…”

The single word hung like a blade in the air.

Every head turned toward me. The shift was almost physical—chairs squeaked, eyes burned into my skin. Even Lucien’s laughter froze, curiosity sharpening in his gaze.

I drew in a slow breath. “I’d like to ask something from the Chairman.”

A hush blanketed the room. No one so much as shifted. Their attention pressed down on me like a mountain.

Across the table, the Chairman folded his hands, unreadable as ever. His voice was steady, almost challenging.

“Then say your terms, Kael.”

I felt Aria’s gaze flick toward me, a silent question. My jaw tightened. This was it. “If the contract is secured, then I ask you to give my brother Darren control of the subsidiaries—”

Murmurs exploded before I could even finish.

The subsidiaries weren’t just branches. They were the veins pumping blood into the heart of the company, the lifeline every shareholder clung to. Giving it away was like handing someone the kingdom’s crown.

I pressed on, firm. “Make Darren the head there.”

“Absurd!” someone hissed from the side.

“He’s lost his mind!” another barked, the words tumbling like stones thrown at me.

Curses layered over one another. I caught phrases—as lowly as Darren, does he even know what he’s saying, the Chairman will never agree to this.

The heat of their disdain didn’t shake me. I stood tall, my voice unyielding even in the storm.

Lucien, of course, was the one to slice through the noise. His smirk was back, sharp as a blade. “If he gives it to Darren,” he said, leaning forward, “then what benefit does the company gain?” His tone carried the smug certainty of a man who believed he’d cornered me.

I looked him straight in the eye. “What every businessperson in this room craves,” I said, my words low but steady, iron under silk. “Profit, growth, and leverage. And I’ll get it for you, Lucien.”

Victor suddenly scraped his chair back, the sharp sound cutting through the silence of the table. He shot up to his feet, his face dark with fury as his voice thundered.

“Kael… do you even know what you’re talking about?” His eyes blazed, veins standing against his neck. “Are you saying that bastard Darren is worth enough to head this family? You’re asking us—us Delacroix—to be under his wing?!” He spat the words like venom, his lip curling in disgust. Then his eyes locked on me, narrowing. “You’re nothing but a deluded fool, Kael. A leech who thinks too highly of himself.”

I clenched my fists under the table, forcing myself to keep calm, though his insults stung sharper than knives.

“Victor.” Lucien’s voice cut like steel. His gaze was steady, piercing through Victor like a blade. “Sit down. Or I will personally send you out of here.”

Victor froze, his rage simmering, but the weight of Lucien’s tone forced him back into his chair. He muttered under his breath, but he didn’t dare push further.

Lucien then turned his attention to me, his expression unreadable. “Kael, what you ask for is not something I can rush to give an answer,” he said evenly. “You’ll have it—but later. For now…” He glanced at the dishes before us. “Let’s focus on our food.”

The rest of the dinner passed in heavy silence, the air thick with resentment. When it was over and we rose from the table, the rest of the family stormed out with cold glares, leaving a trail of anger behind them.

As Darren, Mira, and I stepped outside, Mira finally broke the silence. She crossed her arms, her voice sharp but laced with concern. “Can the two of you tell me what happened to the car? And what exactly all that talk inside was about?”

Darren sighed, his gaze shifting to me. “That’s what I was about to ask Kael,” he said. Then his tone hardened, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “Why did you ask Lucien that, Kael? Don’t you know what kind of man he is? He’ll see you as nothing but obsessed with his company.”

I met his gaze firmly. “I doubt he’ll let it go,” I said. “Not with the offer I gave him.”

Mira’s eyes widened slightly. “Kael… are you really sure about this contract? About everything you’re staking on it?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. My voice carried no doubt. “I’m sure.”

I checked my watch and exhaled slowly. “I need to go now. Visiting hours at the hospital are almost over. Luckily, it isn’t far from here.” I gave them both a small nod. “I’ll take my leave.”

I walked away, my chest heavy, until I reached the hospital. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air as I entered the ward. My steps slowed when I spotted them—my wife seated by the bed, and next to her, Liam… my son.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I whispered, “Liam…”

He looked up at me, his small eyes widening. “Daddy?” His voice was soft, uncertain—yet full of hope.

That one word broke me.

I rushed forward and dropped to my knees beside him, wrapping him in my arms as tears spilled freely down my face. “Yes, Liam. Yes, I’m your daddy. I’m your father…” My voice cracked, trembling as I pressed him against my chest.

The walls blurred around me as I wept openly, holding him like I’d never let go. For so long I had carried weight, fear, and silence—but in that moment, all I was… was a father.