The Chosen Heir

Chapter 8: That wasn't so hard, was it?

Ash’s mind was still buzzing from the morning’s chaos at the county jail. His brother’s hollow eyes and snatched breakfast haunted him, but he kept telling himself to push it aside. His wife, Tessa, must have dropped Nora at school by now. That thought was his only comfort, at least one part of the morning had gone right.

The cab jerked to a stop in front of the company gates. Ash straightened his tie, brushed invisible dust off his worn shirt, and stepped out. Surprisingly, he actually made it to the company by 9:00.

But something was wrong. The wide iron gate, usually open, were shut tight. Two uniformed security guards stood on the inside, arms folded, blocking entry.

Ash approached, forcing a polite smile. “Morning. I work here. Could you open the gate?”

One of the guards gave him a flat look. “Name?”

“Asher Booker”

The guard raised an eyebrow, as if the name meant nothing. “Never heard of you.”

Ash felt a flicker of irritation. “I was hired by your secretary, uh, Miss… Henderson, I think? She can vouch for me. She's the one who sent me an employment text.” he explained.

The other guard leaned against the gate, chewing gum lazily. “That’s not how it works. No ID, no entry.” “I didn’t get my ID yet. I’m supposed to pick it up today.” “Then I guess you’re not supposed to be here today,” the gum-chewer said with a smirk.

Ash’s patience thinned. “Look, I woke up early, I’ve got a full day ahead, and I need to get inside. Just call her. Please.”

The guards exchanged a glance, then shrugged. One of them pulled out a walkie-talkie, muttering into it.

A few minutes later, a woman emerged from the main building and strolled toward the gate. She was exactly as Ash remembered from his interview, and yet more exaggerated. The secretary, Miss Henderson, wore makeup so heavy it was almost theatrical. Thick foundation masked her skin in a perfect, unnatural matte. Her eyebrows were sharp, dark arcs that seemed permanently raised in mild disapproval. Dark eyeshadow extended like wings, and her lipstick was a glossy crimson so bold it drew the eye instantly.

Every detail of her appearance seemed calculated, the high heels clicking decisively on the pavement, the manicured nails painted to match her lips, the blouse just tight enough to suggest she understood the power of presentation in this office. She was a woman who didn’t just walk into a room; she entered as though she were announcing a challenge.

When she reached the gate, she looked Ash up and down, her gaze lingering a second too long on his shirt, the one that was ironed but worn so thin it might tear with a careless tug. Her lips curved into a smile that wasn’t kind.

“So… you’re back,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ash replied, trying to sound respectful despite the lump forming in his throat. “There seems to be a misunderstanding at the gate. I told them I was hired..’

“I know who you are,” she interrupted smoothly. “And yes, you were hired. But entry into this building isn’t as simple as walking through the gate.”

Ash frowned. “I don’t understand. You said....”

“What I said since doesn’t matter today,” she replied, her tone almost playful. “Today is… different.”

The guards watched silently, their expressions unreadable, as if they had seen this game before.

Ash swallowed. “So… can I come in?”

Her red lips spread into a slow, deliberate smirk. “You can… if you’re willing to show how badly you want this job.”

Something in her voice made the hair on the back of Ash’s neck rise. “What do you mean?”

She leaned slightly toward the bars of the gate, her perfume drifting in a wave that was both sweet and cloying. “Crawl in,” she said softly, then louder, as if testing how far her words would carry. “On your hands and knees. Crawl under the gate.”

Ash blinked, certain he’d misheard. “I… what?”

“You heard me,” she said, eyes glinting with amusement. “We keep the gates locked for security. There’s enough space at the bottom for a man to crawl through if he really wants to be here. Think of it as… a test.”

Ash’s ears burned. The gap she referred to was barely two feet high, the dusty concrete underneath littered with gravel and dry leaves. Crawling under it would mean scraping his knees, smudging his shirt, and, worse, doing it in front of the guards, who were already exchanging barely concealed grins.

“This isn’t necessary,” Ash said, his voice tight.

“It is if you want to keep your job,” Miss Henderson replied, her smirk deepening. “Or perhaps you’d rather turn around and leave? I’m sure there are other people who’d be willing to do what it takes.”

Ash felt the sting of her words. He thought of Tessa, of little Nora, of the rent that was already overdue. Pride screamed at him to walk away. But reality, cold, heavy reality, pressed down harder.

The silence stretched. The guards shifted, one of them chuckling under his breath.

Finally, without a word, Ash knelt. The gravel bit into his palms. He bent lower, the dust stinging his eyes. As he pushed himself forward under the gate, the rough ground scraped his knees through his thin trousers. The paper bag from the morning, now empty and crumpled in his pocket, jabbed against his side.

Behind him, he heard the low murmur of voices, the faint sound of someone’s phone camera clicking.

He emerged on the other side, his shirt smeared with dirt, his knees aching. He stood slowly, dusting himself off, his cheeks hot with humiliation.

Miss Henderson tilted her head, looking him over like a critic appraising a flawed painting. “There now,” she said lightly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Ash’s voice was low. “May I go in now?”

She smiled sweetly. “Of course. But next time, Booker… wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

She turned on her heel, heels clicking, leading the way toward the building. The guards laughed openly now, their voices echoing behind him.

Ash followed in silence, each step heavier than the last. His pride had taken a blow so sharp it almost winded him. The company’s glass doors loomed ahead, reflecting his rumpled figure, and for the first time, he wondered if this job was worth the price he was already paying.