AFTER SCHOOL, OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL PREMISES.
The hallway hummed with a quiet calm that sharply contrasted with the scene unfolding just beyond the school building. Brianna and Damion were bound to the planks of shame, a crude stake where transgressors were displayed for public humiliation. Students, with a grim sort of enthusiasm, pelted them with garbage. Brianna bit down on her lip, a silent struggle against the indignity as splattered egg yolk dripped down her face. The messy barrage continued, fueled by Pedro's unspoken command.
Tears streamed down Brianna's face, her dark hair plastered to her cheeks. "Megara," she choked out, pausing to taste the metallic tang of blood from her bitten lip, "not only have I suffered a great loss today, but this… this utter humiliation." A chilling resolve hardened her voice. "I will repay this tenfold, and I won't rest until you're expelled from this school." A manic laugh escaped her as another egg exploded against her forehead.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop, the rhythmic whir of helicopter blades sliced through the air as Uriel and Zack approached. Uriel stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Zack, what the hell am I seeing? I must need new eyes." Panic tightened his features, and his fist slammed into the nearest wall. "Did you see the way she looked at me? Like she was going to skin me alive."
Zack chuckled dryly, reaching out to pat his friend's shoulder, but thought better of it when met with a hostile glare. "Yeah, I saw that. Chill, man, you look like you could eat me any minute," he said, keeping his hand to himself.
"That I'll do if you don't shut your mouth and give me a reasonable explanation, because I don't understand my best friend or that girl," Uriel retorted, his voice sharp with agitation. "I just dislike that girl, Zack. She's turning everything upside down for me."
Zack shrugged, his shock evident. "I don't get it, dude. I thought that whole thing was over and done with. She's friends with Hugo, and he likes her, so we should like her too." His suggestion only seemed to fuel Uriel's anger. "I know you don't like hearing it, but that's the honest truth of the situation."
"Friends with a pauper? And to top it all off, a strong head?" Uriel scoffed. "You might be friends with her, but I'd never be. And that's final." He turned sharply and strode towards the waiting helicopter, the pilot opening the door for him before closing it securely once he was inside.
Zack tugged at a loose strand of his fiery red hair, tucking it behind his ear. "Damn," he muttered, watching the helicopter lift off. "I've never seen Uriel so frustrated with anyone, let alone a girl." He turned and began walking back towards the school entrance. "Hmmm, I'd like to see where this goes."
AT MEGARA'S HOUSE.
Hugo helped Megara out of his car, a courtesy he always extended, despite her playful protests. "I don't get why you keep opening the door for me," she teased, bumping his chest with her fist. "Do I look like a damsel in distress?"
He chuckled, holding her hand as he guided her to the pedestrian walkway in front of her house. "Yes, you are, Meg. Haven't you heard? A gentleman does everything for a lady because every lady is special."
"Yeah, what a smooth talker. Anyways, go home. I'll see you tomorrow," she advised, turning towards her house. But Hugo held her back. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Without a word, Hugo pulled her into a tight embrace, gently stroking her hair. The tender moment was shattered when Megara abruptly pushed him away, her eyes fixed on something behind him.
"Dad? You're here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Hugo's throat tightened. Mr. Smith's glare felt like a physical blow, making his blood run cold. Yet, the man remained silent, retrieving his keys and opening the door, wordlessly inviting them in.
Inside, the air crackled with unspoken tension. Mr. Smith's intense gaze pinned Hugo in place. Megara, sensing Hugo's discomfort, tried to speak, but a sharp look from her father silenced her. It was the same look he used to command his troops, a look that brooked no argument.
Mr. Denver Smith was an imposing figure, towering at seven feet two inches. His piercing grey eyes, thin pink lips, and powerful build radiated an aura of formidable strength. Hugo had never met anyone so intimidating. Had his feelings for Megara not been so strong, he would have fled.
Mr. Smith leaned forward, his clasped hands adding to the interrogative atmosphere. "So, young man," he began, his voice dangerously calm, "if I may ask, what's your name? Your age? And why in the hell did my daughter arrive home with a bandage on her forehead in your car instead of Tobi's? Furthermore, what are your intentions towards her?" His eyes drilled into Hugo.
A sheen of sweat broke out on Hugo's palms. He avoided Mr. Smith's gaze. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm Hugo Arnold, and I'm nineteen years old. I'm a friend of your daughter," he managed, his voice trembling slightly. "I brought her home because Tobi had a mechanic appointment. I wasn't responsible for her injury; it was just a misunderstanding between classmates."
"A misunderstanding between classmates?!" Mr. Smith's fist slammed on the table, the sharp crack making Hugo flinch. "Megara, is that true?"
Megara rushed to her father's side, placing a hand on his arm. "Dad, it's true. Just a misunderstanding," she repeated, the lie leaving a bitter taste. She knew her father would be suspicious, but the truth couldn't come out now. "Yes, Dad, he's the friend I told you about last night, remember?"
Mr. Smith looked at his daughter, his harsh gaze softening momentarily. But when he turned back to Hugo, his eyes hardened. "Of course, I remember, but I don't like this kind of friendship," he declared, his voice sending a chill down Hugo's spine.
"Why would you say that, Dad? Hugo is calm, nice, and he's a good friend, more like an older brother," she defended, patting Hugo's shoulder before giving him a quick wink. "Aren't you, Hugo? Speak up. My Dad doesn't bite... much."
Hugo stammered, "Yes, Dad... I mean, sir. I'm not a bad person, and I want to be her friend because I respect her," his voice softening.
"Do you think I don't know your motive?" Mr. Smith retorted, his eyes narrowing. "I saw the way you hugged my daughter, like you thought you could just make off with her, you dimwit. That's not how friends look at each other." Hugo felt exposed, as if caught doing something forbidden.
"No, no, sir, that's not true. I'm willing to be Megara's friend, and I'll wait for her to graduate if I have such intentions," Hugo declared, surprising Megara. "But please, don't stop us from being friends."
Mr. Smith's grip tightened on a can he held, crushing it with a sharp snap. Hugo braced himself, but to his surprise, Mr. Smith burst into laughter. "Hahahaha! What a scary cat you are!" he mocked, slapping Hugo on the shoulder. "I wasn't going to eat you. Relax, you look like a log ready for a Christmas bonfire."
Hugo let out a shaky breath, his face flushing. "I'm sorry, sir. You just look very intimidating," he admitted honestly, earning a thoughtful look. "Were you a soldier? Because you definitely have the aura of a commander."
A smile touched Mr. Smith's lips, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I sure am, kid. Ever heard of the Chief Commander of the Eagles Battalions in the Red Cap Army, for special warfare only? Mr. Denver Smith Jim soo?"
Hugo covered his mouth, his eyes wide. "What?! You mean the first God of War for the secret special agents sent to Afghanistan?" A curt nod was his only reply. "Sir, you're my role model! No one from the public even knows you're alive!"
Mr. Smith's smile vanished, his gaze hardening. "That's why I'm warning you to keep your mouth shut, or the next time we meet, I'll snap your throat in half," he threatened, making Hugo instinctively clutch his neck. Mr. Smith leaned in, his voice a low whisper. "If I ever see you looking at my daughter like you're about to screw her again, I'll end your rich kid life in one snap. I agreed to this friendship because my daughter likes you as an older brother, not because I like you."
He straightened up, leaving Megara wondering what her father had said to Hugo to make him look so terrified. "We good, Hugo?" he asked, attempting to ease the tension.
"Yes, sir. I should probably go, or my mum might be worried," Hugo said, surprising Megara. Her father nodded, signaling her to see him out.
Outside, Hugo exhaled deeply, then jumped when Megara patted his back. "Shit! Sorry, Megara, but your Dad is the true definition of a real Kratos and Hulk mixed breed," he declared, earning a laugh from her.
"Yeah, that's my dad, but don't worry, he'll come around somehow," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What did he actually say to you?"
Hugo forced a smile, his eyes fixed on hers despite the chilling warning. "He said I should take care of you, but don't tell him I told you. It's a secret," he lied, but Megara looked unconvinced.
"I know my dad loves me dearly, but that doesn't sound like something he'd say," she retorted softly. "He must have threatened you, didn't he?"
Hugo laughed dryly. "Hey, nah, he didn't do that, Meg. He just told me to watch your back, that's all."
She waved dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. See you tomorrow at school," she said. "Remember, stay away from Uriel. I don't like him; he looks suspicious."
"Nah, he's my best friend. He wouldn't hurt me, but I do feel sorry for Brianna and Damion," Hugo replied, waving back as he got into his car. "Bye, Meg, see you tomorrow morning."
Megara waved, slowly backing towards the house. She watched his car disappear, then turned to face her father's questioning gaze.
"Don't even start, Dad. I need rest, and then I'll tell you about him," she said, walking into the house, her father following closely.
AT THE JEFFERSON MANSION
The evening descended upon Jefferson Mansion, the sun surrendering to the horizon after its day's labor, yielding the night to the moon's gentle reign. A chorus of crickets chirped, their melody weaving a tranquil ambiance. Inside, maids moved with quiet purpose, orchestrating the preparation of the dinner table, while sentinels maintained a vigilant watch over the estate.
Uriel, however, returned from a long session at the Marylebone shooting range, his countenance a stark contrast to the peaceful setting. Emerald eyes blazed with an unconcealed fury, a storm that not even his stoic features could entirely conceal. The maids, their gazes lowered to the polished marble, offered silent bows, their hearts echoing with unspoken questions.
In the living room, Catherine sat, an iPad displaying intricate Forex graphs resting in her hands. Beside her, Magnus meticulously sliced an apple she had requested, offering her each piece with quiet devotion. Noticing Uriel's arrival, he leaned close, murmuring the news in Catherine's ear. Her eyes brightened instantly, akin to someone discovering a trove of diamonds. "Hello, Uriel," she greeted him, setting aside her iPad. "You're home late. What's the matter?"
But Uriel's intense gaze remained fixed upon her as he surveyed the entire room. "Come here and give Mummy a hug," she offered warmly.
A deep frown creased Uriel's brow as he turned towards the staircase leading to his father's study. "Catherine, I'm not in the mood, later. Right now, I've got bigger fish to fry," he stated before disappearing up the stairs.
Catherine's gaze followed his ascent, her eyes now mirroring the unspoken questions of the maids as she turned to Magnus. "Magnus, did anything unusual happen this morning while I was at work?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"No ma'am nothing happened except Gabriel asked the young master to stop using the aircraft as said by the master. He replied his voice low and Catherine nods wondering what had happened. "But from the look of it something happened and it has something to do with the master and the young master.
Catherine couldn't sit well with the signals she was getting so she follows her son upstairs her heels clocked on the marble floor with each steps lies a torrent fear and doubt but she knew there was nothing she couldn't handle or get rid of as far ot has to do with her family. She has always been the responsible one standing up for them all knowing if she doesn't intervene something might be off.
INSIDE THE OFFICE
The moonlit office stood hushed, the quiet only broken by the soft glow bathing Mr. Jefferson's figure by the open window. A crimson ember pulsed in his right hand, a stopwatch gleamed in his left. A faint smile touched his lips, a man anticipating the inevitable.
The sudden crash of the door splintering open announced Uriel's tempestuous arrival. Mr. Jefferson turned, a smirk playing on his features as his son's emerald eyes, sharp with fury, met his in the dim light.
He moved with deliberate calm to his chair, settling in as Uriel's gaze remained fixed, predatory. "Siri, turn on the light," Mr. Jefferson commanded, and the room flooded with illumination. "Such a charming entrance, Uriel. Perfectly befitting a boorish son."
Uriel's hand slammed onto the polished desk, sending papers and pens scattering. "Spare me the sarcasm, Father. It's no surprise a man as duplicitous as you would stoop to such underhanded tactics to humiliate me at school." He spat the words, but Mr. Jefferson merely raised an eyebrow, his attention seemingly absorbed by a company file.
"Your social squabbles are hardly my concern, Uriel. Resolve them yourself." His dismissive tone only fueled Uriel's rage. "I granted you the privilege of selecting a scholarship recipient, a gesture I intended as a birthday gift. And how did you repay that trust? You utterly botched it!"
Mr Jefferson voice rose, laced with indignation. "Royal Von High is not some trinket to be carelessly discarded! It is our ancestral legacy, earned through generations of toil long before Shinhwa High even existed. It is not your personal playground!" He snarled, struggling to contain his fury. "So don't you dare castigate me for seizing an opportunity you so carelessly cast aside."
A hard grin stretched across Uriel's face. "Hah! Such noble pronouncements! Where were your vaunted ancestors when I single-handedly dismantled the Black Tigers gang from both Shinhwa and Huo Shin High that sought to destroy Royal Von high?" His voice was sharp, accusatory. "Listen to me, Father, and listen well. I will not relinquish my position for anyone. I forged that kingdom myself, and I alone will rule it. Understand?"
The air in the room thickened with the unspoken chasm between father and son. Mr. Jefferson's smug smile remained stubbornly fixed as he closed the distance to Uriel, his gaze a deliberate assessment before settling, inches away. "Uriel," he began, his tone a low, cutting monotone, "I nurtured you for success, for responsibility, not for this thuggish pursuit of dominance over what is already yours."
He paused, the silence amplifying his words. "Royal Von High," he continued, the name itself carrying a weight of expectation, "was intended solely for you, my gift, not to be wrestled over by you and your… associates." He punctuated this with a sharp tap to Uriel's forehead. "You are meant to lead it, but not through violence and intimidation. Until the day I depart from this world, Royal Von High remains mine, to manage as I see fit."
Turning his back, the dismissal was palpable. "Now, leave. And do not test my patience further." The implied threat of security hung in the air, a final, cold punctuation mark to his decree. Uriel was left standing, the weight of his father's disappointment and the loss of control a tangible presence.
Uriel's eyes, twin embers of controlled fury and wicked amusement, narrowed as he approached his father. "Leaching off your wealth? Hardly, Father. A mere surname will suffice." He punctuated the statement with a dismissive click of his tongue. "Consider this your only warning, Dad. Don't meddle in my affairs, in anything I intend to do. The consequences... they won't be pretty."
Mr. Jefferson surged to his feet, his gaze locking with Uriel's. "Are you threatening me?" he roared, his voice thick with outrage. "Guards! Get this insolent brat out of my sight!"
Before any guard could respond, the door crashed inward, revealing Catherine, her expression a thundercloud. The sharp click of her heels echoed through the tense silence as she advanced. "Oman, what in heaven's name is going on?" she demanded, but her words were lost in the charged animosity that crackled between father and son.
A low chuckle rumbled in Uriel's chest, a sly grin spreading across his lips. "Threat? Dearest Father, it's simply the dawning of a new reality. I made it clear from the onset that a more... assertive Uriel had arrived. And repentance," his voice dropped, each word laced with a chilling malice, "is not in my vocabulary."
His footsteps resonated through the room as he turned and strode towards the door, the final slam echoing the abruptness of his departure. Catherine watched him go, a knot of worry tightening in her chest, while Mr. Jefferson, his face a mask of bewildered fury, slammed his hand down on his desk causing the whiskey glass to tumble the ground, the sound of scattered glass filling the void Uriel had left.
Catherine's brow furrowed, her voice tight with rising frustration. "Oman, what have you done now to upset him so? You need to tell me, or I'm not moving from this spot." Her voice gained volume, a clear threat hanging in the air.
Mr. Jefferson finally looked up, meeting his wife's icy stare. "I didn't say anything out of line, Catherine. I simply stated what needed to be said, and he needs to hear it. Sooner or later, that arrogance and those tiresome friends of his will lead him nowhere."
Catherine's hands slammed onto the desk, the sharp sound startling her husband. "You are unbelievable! Why can't you just leave him alone, for heaven's sake? Those children are our closest friends' kids, and Uriel is just a child you're trying to force to grow up too fast, Oman!" Her voice resonated through the office, sharp and accusatory. "He is your third child. Doesn't Erik, who studied business and real estate management, plan to follow in your footsteps? Why burden Uriel with it?"
Mr. Jefferson rose, his gaze locked with his wife's, taking a small step back. "This is my empire, Catherine, my legacy. I will leave it to whomever I deem fit to rule it. This conversation is over. Now, leave." He gestured sharply towards the door, his command leaving Catherine momentarily speechless.
With a defiant flick of her brown hair over her shoulder, she stated icily, "You will regret this, Jefferson. Mark my words." She turned and strode out, the resounding bang of the closing door echoing in the sudden silence of the room..