Chapter 3 Useless Sister

Michael worked faster than lightning.

Moments later, someone crashed the storeroom's door open. Michael and two of his bodyguards hurried into the room. When he noticed me—on the ground trying to push myself up, blood caking my face, and my clothes messed up—he was shocked.

But he helped me up without asking. I shook my head, telling him not to talk. Then, I took the card from him and tossed it to Harold. The PIN was already on it.

Harold took the card. This time, he did not press further. He waved us off dismissively. "If you gave me a fake, I know where to find out. Now fuck off."

Michael helped me get out of the room. I was keeping the screams of my body down, and I hobbled away from this nauseating chamber.

We stopped at the entrance. "Thanks, mate. I'll pay you back after I settle this fiasco."

He looked at me, worried. "It's chump change. Don't worry about it. What the hell happened?"

I sneered. "That was my sister's boyfriend. I guess it's time for the big reveal." I grabbed my phone and called the restaurant's VP.

The VP was the actual administrator of the joint. I poached him myself, and he was loyal to me.

The moment my call went through, I spoke without a hint of emotion crossing my voice. "You have ten minutes to fire a manager called Harold Stern. Fail that, and the Grayheims will pull out every single cent of investment in that restaurant."

My voice alone nearly scared the soul out of the VP's body. He noticed the weakness in my voice and deduced that something was wrong. Terrified, he said, "Yes, sir, right away." And he did not even ask any further questions.

I hung up. "Take me to the police station, Mike."

…

The officers talked to me. With a clear voice and a clearer mind, I told them the beating and extortion I suffered. My testimonial was taken, and then I made a trip to the hospital to assess the wounds I suffered.

The report came out soon enough. I was holding it tightly in my hands. Flames of fury were burning in my heart. The pain of betrayal was fueling it, and it showed no signs of stopping.

An explanation. Someone owed me one, and it was Selina. She would explain everything to me herself.

My assistant found out where she was—at her villa.

…

I, my driver, and my bodyguards made our way there right away. That villa was a gift from me.

The first thing that hit me was the loud and deafening heavy metal music coming from the villa. The second thing was the voices of the partygoers that came rushing out of the open doors and windows.

Selina was having a party. No wonder she did not take my call. The entrance was ajar, but for some reason, I did not enter right away.

Soon enough, I noticed a familiar voice speaking. Harold.

He was telling everyone his sob story as if he were the victim, and I was the one who humiliated him with money.

"I just wanted him to pay the bill, but he tossed 150 grand into my face and told my boss to fire me! Selina, he's impossible! He doesn't respect you! He humiliated me! He wants to break us up!"

Selina and her obnoxious, sycophantic friends played the role of angry and indignant friends.

Selina was loudly soothing the man in her arms. Her voice was dripping with love and sympathy. "I won't let this slide, Harold!"

To show her resolve, she announced to everyone, "When I get my hands on my brother, I'll make him say sorry to you!"

The trust-fund babies inside were still backing up Harold, and all of them promised that they would make me pay in a hundred different ways.

"Say the world, Selina! We'll get that bastard!"

"Yeah, show him who's boss around here!"

Alright, that was it. Even I had my limits. I raised my hand, and my bodyguards kicked the door open.

The music came to an abrupt halt, and the laughter died down immediately.

Stunned, the partygoers turned their eyes to the entrance.

"You don't have to get me. I'm already here. So, how are you going to make me pay?"