THE FORGOTTEN WILSON

Chapter 4: A Human Shield

The manager practically sprinted into the VIP section, sweat beadings on his forehead. Before anyone could even open their mouths to explain what had happened, Alexander cut through the room like cold steel.

"I don’t ever want to see this filthy animal in this building again," Alexander said, gesturing toward Benjamin without even giving him the dignity of a glance. He looked straight at the trembling manager. "Is that understood?"

The manager’s stomach sank. He knew Benjamin down to his core—the guy was peaceful, hardworking, and would never dream of offending a regular customer, let alone someone with a name as powerful as Alexander Wilson. But out here, truth didn't pay the bills. Power did.

Avoiding Benjamin's eyes, the manager forced a cold tone. "Benjamin... you’re suspended for the next two weeks. And right now, you need to apologize to Mr. Wilson."

The air in the room vanished. Benjamin’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. This job was his only lifeline, his only source of income in an expensive city. Even though every single part of this was a lie, he had no choice but to swallow his pride.

"I'm sorry, sir," Benjamin muttered. There was a raw, agonizing c***k in his voice that he couldn't quite hide.

"Just get out of my sight," Alexander thundered, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Benjamin didn't wait to be told twice. He turned on his heel and walked out, pushing through the doors into the cool night air as hot, burning tears threatened to spill over his lashes.

He walked blindly until his legs felt like lead, finally slumping onto a lone bench by the sidewalk. The wind blew forcefully against his face. Sitting there in the dark, the words his grandmother Agnes used to whisper came rushing back. *The ultra-rich don’t think they’re humans, Benji. They think they’re gods.*

Lost in his own head, he suddenly felt a light, incredibly soft touch on his shoulder.

Benjamin snapped out of it, instantly trying to look tough, but his defenses crumbled the second he looked up into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

It was Sophia.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine worry. She had been driving home from a late meeting when she caught a glimpse of him sitting all alone on the curb, looking completely crushed.

Benjamin quickly put his mask back on. "It’s nothing," he lied, trying to sound casual. "Just a long shift. I felt a bit tired and decided to sit down for a minute before heading home."

Even though Sophia came from money too, Benjamin knew the Wilson family was a different kind of dangerous. He didn’t want her getting tangled up in trouble or corporate mess just to defend a bartender.

Sophia’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you a hundred percent sure?"

"Absolutely," Benjamin replied, stabilizing his voice.

Sophia stared at him for a long beat. She obviously didn't buy the lie, but she chose to protect his dignity. Instead, a playful smile broke across her face. "Fine. In that case, you're joining me for dinner. And don't bother saying no, because I'm not taking that for an answer." She tilted her head toward her car, using a comically bossy voice.

A quiet, genuine laugh escaped Benjamin’s lips. The heavy, suffocating pressure in his chest suddenly lifted. Looking at her, his entire mood lit up. "Alright."

.........................................

"Welcome home, Soph!"

The front doors of the Whitmore mansion opened, and Sophia was instantly greeted by the rich smell of a massive home-cooked meal. Her mother, Vivian, was carefully setting the table.

"Mom, what’s all this for?" Sophia asked, looking at the spread of food.

"Your dad wants us to have a family dinner tonight. He said he has some incredibly good news he wants to share," Vivian explained, looking closely at her daughter, trying to find a single spark of happiness.

She was disappointed to find none, but she couldn't blame her. Harry Whitmore’s cold, controlling parenting had made Sophia this way. The very second Vivian mentioned her father, Sophia’s face went entirely blank.

"I think I'll skip tonight," Sophia said, turning toward the stairs.

"Why not, sweetie?"

"I already ate on my way back," Sophia said softly. "I'm serious, Mom. I would love to sit with you, but you know I don't really eat heavy at night anyway." Seeing her mother's face fall, she tried to cheer her up. "But... you can make me some of your fruit salad later. I definitely have room for that."

Vivian’s face brightened a bit. "Alright, deal."

................

An hour later, the atmosphere in the dining room was suffocating. Harry Whitmore sat at the head of the table, commanding total attention.

"We’re going to the Wilson estate tomorrow evening," Harry broke the silence, his voice heavy.

Sophia froze, her fork stopping halfway to her mouth. She looked up, completely thrown off. "Why? What for?"

"I know it's sudden," Harry said, a proud smile creeping onto his face as he looked at his wife and daughter—lingering on Sophia to see her reaction. "But the Wilsons have officially invited our whole family over for dinner tomorrow."

Sophia didn’t look excited at all. Her face remained tight and suspicious. Harry shrugged it off, thinking she was just being young and hesitant.

"I’m sure it's just another corporate meeting," Sophia said coldly, trying to build an immediate wall. "I don't think I need to be there. You men know how to handle the business side best."

"As much as I’d love to agree with you, Old Master Wilson specifically asked for our *entire* family," Harry countered, his tone turning strict. "Which tells me this is much bigger than a business deal. This is a family alliance. You do realize his grandson Alexander is your age, right? That’s exactly why I told you to be on your best behavior lately. Old Master Wilson does his research. For him to invite us, he already knows everything about you."

Sophia opened her mouth to argue, but Harry raised his hand, cutting her off completely.

"And we are not having the 'I'm not ready' talk, Sophia. I only do what is best for your future and this family. And right now, there isn't a better groom on this continent than Alexander Wilson. Have I made myself clear?"

The room went dead quiet. Sophia looked at her father, all the color leaving her face.

"Yes, sir," she said, her voice entirely empty.

A few minutes later, she excused herself and walked stiffly up to her room. The moment she locked the door behind her, she collapsed against it, sliding down to the floor. Her chest heaved, but she couldn't even cry. She just felt numb.

*Buzz.*

A soft vibration came from her bag. Sophia reached for her phone and unlocked the screen.

*“Thanks for the dinner treat.”* It was a text from Benjamin.

A tiny, genuine breath escaped Sophia's lips. Her thumbs moved across the screen. *“Don't mention it,”* she wrote back, adding a warm, smiling emoji before tossing the phone onto her bed.

It was crazy. A simple text from a struggling bartender had done what her family's entire empire couldn't—it completely calmed the storm inside her head.

On the other side of the city, in his dark, quiet room, Benjamin lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His phone was gripped tight in his hand, his mind completely unable to stop thinking about her.