Chapter 4

Alexander (Xander) straightened his suit jacket, his eyes lingering for a moment longer on the framed photograph of his grandfather, Jacob Mitchell, on the wall. The man’s frozen smile seemed almost smug.

"Old man, I'm back. Your grandson has return to destroy everything you cherished. Wish me luck.”

His mind drifted, uninvited, to the last time he saw the old man. It had been 17 years.

“Grandfather, please don’t send me away. I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone,” a seven-year-old Xander had cried, clutching the man’s trousers, hoping his tears would change something—anything.

His parents had just perished in a car accident. He was utterly alone and desperate for family.

But his grandfather had spat venom instead.

“You evil child. It should’ve been you who died, not my son. You should’ve died with your wretched mother instead of your father. Get out of this house. I never want to see your face again!”

Xander begged and wept, his hands trembling as he clasped them together, wishing that someone—anyone—would stop the cruelty. But all they gave him were sneers and spit. His own family treated him like a plaque.

“Sir,..." a voice interrupted, "... everyone’s assembled in the boardroom.”

Xander's eyes snapped open. David, his secretary, stood waiting in the doorway.

Yes. The moment had come.

The Mitchell family would finally pay for what they did to him.

Memories flickered—his parents' accident, the reading of the will, the shock etched on his grandfather’s face upon discovering everything was bequeathed to a child. Their solution? Cast him away, erase him from the family legacy.

Now, after 17 years of exile, he had clawed his way back. He had power. The kind they couldn’t ignore.

“Everyone, you say?” Xander's voice was hoarse, rough from years of silence. Again, he gazed at the photograph of his grandfather.

“Even the chairman. Your grandfather wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’re the last one yet to arrive, sir,” David said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

David said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

He had exploited every familial weakness to ensure this meeting. No one dared refuse the summons.

Xander let out a bitter laugh. All of them gathered in one place, awaiting him? He had never imagined this day would come.

“Well,” he declared adjusting his suit, “we shouldn’t keep the reputable Mitchells waiting any longer.”

He turned from the window, David following closely behind, and walked the polished hallway that led toward the boardroom.

The air felt thicker here, almost electric.

Just as promised, they were all there.

Jacob Mitchell. Uncle Noah and his plastic-perfect wife, Ingrid Michelle. His cousins, Isabel and Frederick. And, of course, his step-grandmother, Loretta Michelle, who was nearly his age.

The whole gallery of the "perfect" family was there.

Xander advanced confidently toward the head seat—once his grandfather’s—but now a throne he could no longer claim.

Like in chess, you watch every move — then strike when they least expect it: checkmate.

“Apologies for the delay, my beloved family.”

Every eye scorched with fierce intensity. Their stares burned into him.

“Beloved?” Uncle Noah snapped. “You arrogant little brat. After all your grandfather did for you! He gave you an education, a better life — and this is how you repay him? You drag an old man to your meeting like a prisoner?”

Xander sat, unfazed. Education? They’d dumped him after high school. He’d scraped through on scholarships and hunger.

And now they expected sympathy — for a man who used stolen wealth to marry a woman his grandson’s age.

“My dear grandson,” Loretta crooned, “you can’t throw your grandfather out of the company. Your grandfather never stopped worrying about you. He stared at your photo every night. Couldn’t eat a bite of my cooking. He—”

“Mrs. Mitchell,” David interrupted, deadpan. “You seem to know a lot.”

“Of course. I’ve been by his side through everything.”

“How old are you?” David asked.

“Twenty-eight,” she said proudly.

“Then you must’ve married him when you were… what? A baby?”

The tension breaks. Frederick and Isabel couldn't hold their laughter until their grandfather's death stare eyes shut them up.

“Xander, my nephew, " Ingrid jumped in, " you can’t throw your grandfather and uncle out. And I? I'm just an outsider, you shouldn't blame me. At least give Isabel and Frederick some properties. Your cousins can't live in poverty.”

"If you are an outsider just continue to be Ingrid! We are his grand parents and we deserve a share in the fortune!" Loretta charged.

"And you are nothing but a gold digger who used me to get to the old man!" Isabella retaliated

David snorted with disgust.

Xander remained silent, observing the circus unfolding before him.

Everyone in the room was desperately pleading for scraps of their own.

“Alexander,” the old man finally spoke, “surely you didn’t summon us here for a heartfelt family reunion.”

Xander leaned forward, eyes fixed on his grandfather who sat directly opposite him.

“It’s been a long time, Grandfather.”

“What do you want?” Jacob’s expression tightened.

“Nothing you don’t know about,” Xander snapped coldly. “I want all of you out — of my company, out of my house. I want back everything you stole from me- every little penny.”

Silence dropped over the room like a bomb.

Jacob clenched his knees tightly to steady his trembling hands.

Noah’s rage boiled just beneath the surface, barely restrained by Ingrid’s grip. Isabel and Frederick sat frozen. Loretta’s mouth hung open.

Xander surveyed the room, relishing in the weight of the silence. Those expressions he had longed to see.

“You ungrateful wretch!” Noah bellowed, lunging violently at Xander.

“Noah!” Jacob sharply reprimanded his eldest son, stepping in before Noah could reach Xander.

The old man knew too well. His grandson was just as ruthless as himself.

A sinister chuckle escaped Xander's lips.

“Why did you hold back, uncle? I assumed you’d be eager for a new mansion to call home,” he sneered. “Anyway, let’s put an end to this once and for all. I’m tired of seeing your pathetic faces—especially yours, uncle. You should at least have some pride. This is the wealth your younger brother left behind; why are you clawing at scraps like a mangy dog?”

Ingrid steadied her husband while David was already standing between the space to shield his boss from Noah's rage.

Jacob raised a hand to stop Noah. And then turned back to Xander, this time with a faint, calculated smile.

Xander was puzzled but he scoffed it off.

Perhaps the old man intended to surrender without further fight.

“You’ve read your father’s will, haven’t you? You know what he wanted.”

“I read it when I was like, what, seven?…” Xander replied flatly. Yet Jacob’s smile didn’t falter.

“Then perhaps you should read it again.”

The atmosphere froze.

“There’s a clause you missed — one you were too young to understand 17years ago.”

“That changes nothing.”

“It does, Alexander." A beat of stunned silence as Jacob leaned in, "Your father stated it in bold words. "

A heavy silence fell.

Jacob signalled his secretary to hand over the will to Xander.

The moment Xander beheld the clause, he let out a sarcastic laughter.

"And you think i will believe this?"

"It's your father's wish. You get married before you get your inheritance." Jacob leaned back into his seat and with his face turning into a scowl, he continued, " And that too, I get to decide."

Xander’s jaw tightened, his forehead twitched.

“You do this. Or... you forfeit your inheritance..”