The Chosen Heir

Chapter 10: We should go over the rules

Ash stepped into the stairwell, the door closing behind him with a hollow clang. The air was cooler here, but stale, carrying the faint smell of damp concrete. Each step downward was dimly lit by flickering bulbs, the kind that buzzed faintly as if they too were tired of being here.

The files in his hands weren’t heavy, but the awkward stack forced him to keep his arms bent at an uncomfortable angle. By the time he reached the basement, his shirt clung to his back.

The basement door creaked loudly when he pushed it open. Inside, the storage room looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. Boxes were stacked haphazardly, some leaning dangerously, their labels faded or curling off. A thin layer of dust coated everything, and somewhere in the shadows, water dripped steadily into a metal bucket.

He spotted the old filing cabinet where these documents likely belonged, but as he crossed the room, something scuttled across the floor, a rat, its tail vanishing behind a box. Ash froze, heart pounding, then forced himself forward.

As he bent to open the cabinet drawer, one of the boxes above shifted. Before he could react, it toppled, landing on his shoulder and spilling its contents, loose papers and a cloud of dust, all over him. He coughed, eyes stinging, trying to brush himself clean without dropping the files.

Somewhere above him, footsteps echoed down the stairwell. He turned to see a young office assistant peeking in, holding her phone. “Veronica said to check on you,” she said, but the smirk tugging at her lips told Ash she was here for a different reason.

She took one glance at him, dust-coated and hunched over the cabinet, and her smile widened. “Oh, this is perfect.” The faint click of a camera app followed. “The girls upstairs will love this.”

Ash clenched his jaw but said nothing. He finished placing the files in the cabinet and shut the drawer harder than necessary.

By the time he trudged back upstairs, dust streaked his shirt, and his knees ached from crouching. He spotted Veronica at her desk, typing away, her lipstick as immaculate as when he first saw her this morning.

“I need to see Mr. Langston,” Ash said, voice tight.

Veronica didn’t even look up. “He’s not in.”

“I’ll wait.”

That made her pause. She raised her eyes slowly, her brows arching as if she’d just heard something amusing. “Wait? For the CEO? Ash, you don’t just… wait for Mr. Langston. His schedule is planned weeks in advance. He won’t be here today. Or tomorrow. Possibly not even next week.”

Ash took a step closer. “Then when can I...”

Her tone shifted, sharp and cutting. “You seem to be under the impression that you can demand his time. Let me correct that. You don’t. You go where I send you, when I send you, and you do what I tell you. Is that clear?”

Ash’s fists clenched at his sides. “I just want to know who I’m reporting to.”

She leaned back in her chair, lips curving into a cold smile. “You’re reporting to me.”

The statement hung in the air. Ash realized, with a sinking feeling, that she meant every word.

Veronica reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a laminated card attached to a thin blue lanyard. “Here,” she said, tossing it onto the counter in front of him. “Your company ID. Congratulations, you’re official now.”

Ash picked it up. The photo was from yesterday’s rushed hiring paperwork, his expression stiff, his shirt already showing signs of wear. The title under his name simply read Driver/Support.

“Since you’re official,” Veronica continued, her voice now raised so that the nearby employees could hear, “we should go over the rules.”

Ash had a bad feeling about this.

“Rule number one,” she began, counting off on her manicured fingers, “You arrive fifteen minutes early every day. Not on time, early. You’ll stand by the entrance until I tell you what you’re doing.”

Snickers came from a few desks behind her.

“Rule number two,” she said, “No personal calls during work hours. If your wife or child needs you, they can wait until your lunch break… if you get one.”

More laughter. Someone whispered something Ash couldn’t catch, and the group around them chuckled again.

“Rule number three,” Veronica said with mock sweetness, “Any task I give you, no matter how small, dirty, or ‘beneath you’ is part of your job. That includes cleaning the company vehicles yourself if I decide they’re dusty. And if I say the tires need polishing? Guess who’s polishing them.”

Ash’s ears burned. He could feel every pair of eyes in the room on him.

“Rule number four,” she went on, “You address all senior staff as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am.’ Even me.”

That earned a burst of laughter from the back.

“And finally,” Veronica said, lowering her voice for dramatic effect, “Rule number five, no crawling into the building unless you’re prepared to crawl out again.”

The room erupted. The joke landed exactly as she intended, loud, cutting, and humiliating.

Aah’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His pride was screaming for him to throw the ID back at her, to walk out and never return. But he thought of Tessa, Of Nora. Of Benjamin. Of the thin envelope of cash left at home.

“Do you understand the rules, Ash?” Veronica asked, still smiling that painted smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” he forced out.

“Good.” She tapped her nails on the desk. “Now, go clean the company van. And when you’re done, I have something else for you.”

Ash turned, walking toward the parking lot. The laughter followed him out of the office like a shadow.