Getting Everything Back

“Lena, wake up. Breakfast is ready,” Miriam’s muffled voice traveled through the thick wood of the bedroom door, accompanied by three sharp knocks.

Elena froze, a heavy weight of embarrassment settling in her chest. She scrambled out of bed, fixing her nightgown with trembling hands. *Mom definitely heard that scream. She’s going to think the worst.*

Ten minutes later, Elena walked into the small dining room. The smell of fried eggs and toasted bread usually made her mouth water, but today her stomach twisted in knots. She sat rigidly at the wooden table, staring down at her plate. Miriam was already seated across from her, stealing sideways glances while slowly buttering a piece of toast. The silence in the room was thick, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware.

Finally, her mother set her knife down on a napkin and issued a gentle, knowing warning. "Listen, I need to say this. Although you're both young and healthy right now, you still have to restrain yourselves somewhat. You need to think about the consequences. It's really bad if the neighbors hear you screaming like that so early in the morning!"

Elena’s neck burned beet red. The terrible misunderstanding from her panicked yelling had only worsened. She wanted the floor tiles to crack open and swallow her. Beside her, Kaelen kept his face straight, focused on his steaming coffee mug. But Elena saw the truth. He secretly stifled a laugh, his broad, muscular shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed amusement.

Furious at his reaction, Elena shifted her leg under the table and firmly stomped her heel down onto his foot. Kaelen flinched, swallowing a sharp gasp as he gripped the edge of the table.

"Mom, it's not what you think," Elena started, her voice tight with panic. "We didn't—"

Before she could attempt to clarify the innocent truth, her father walked into the room, adjusting his collar, and chimed in with eager agreement. "Your mother is right, Elena. Youth is no excuse for carelessness. But let's focus on the important tasks for today." Gareth took his designated seat at the head of the table. He picked up his fork and casually added a request for them to urgently retrieve his personal business documents from the Stanton Corporation.

Emboldened by the secret knowledge that his son-in-law was the almighty God of War, Gareth spoke with newfound, unshakeable confidence. He waved a dismissive hand in the air, declaring loudly, "And don't worry about Winston or your uncles. We no longer care about the family inheritance at all. Let them fight over it. Just go to the office and get my private files. I'll text you the exact list of what I need."

Elena grabbed her purse and headed downstairs, with Kaelen following closely behind. Her company-issued car had been confiscated by the Stantons yesterday, leaving her feeling stripped of her independence. She walked to the apartment building's side alley and unlocked her old mountain bike. It was their only available mode of transportation.

"I'll take the front," Kaelen offered, stepping up to grasp the handlebars.

With no back seat available, Elena had to stand on the narrow rear pegs, holding tightly onto Kaelen's shoulders for balance. As they rode down the busy morning street, the crisp, biting autumn wind whipped mercilessly through her thin jacket. Patches of white frost still clung to the grass in the park. Within minutes, the harsh chill seeped deep into her bones. Her teeth chattered loudly, and she shivered uncontrollably, her fingers digging desperately into the fabric of his shirt.

Feeling her tremble against his back, Kaelen squeezed the handbrakes, stopping the bike by the edge of the sidewalk. He didn't hesitate for a single second. He stepped off the pedals, stripped off his warm outer jacket, and then pulled his shirt over his head. He draped his shirt directly over her shaking shoulders, leaving himself exposed in just a thin, military-green tank top.

"What are you doing?" Elena asked, her eyes widening at the sight. "You're going to freeze in this weather."

"If you still feel cold, lie securely on my back!" Kaelen offered warmly, flashing a reassuring smile as he settled back onto the bike seat.

Warmed deeply by his selfless gesture, Elena didn't argue further. She leaned forward, resting her chest against his broad, solid back, feeling the steady, comforting heat radiating from his skin block out the wind.

They soon arrived at the towering glass facade of the office building. Elena hopped off the metal pegs, pulling the oversized shirt tighter around her waist.

"Wait for me out here," she told him, pointing to a nearby bench. "I'll just pack up Dad's things and be right out."

Elena walked through the revolving doors and took the main elevator up to the executive floors. She headed quickly down the carpeted hall to her father's old corner office. Pushing the heavy oak door open, she didn't find the empty, quiet room she expected. Instead, her smug cousin, Colin, was occupying the large leather chair behind the desk.

"What are you doing here, beggar?" Colin sneered, dropping his polished shoes to the floor and sitting up straight.

"I'm here for my father's personal documents," Elena sternly demanded, marching directly toward the wooden desk. Those specific stock records were their family's last hidden financial lifeline, representing years of quiet saving.

Colin smirked wickedly, slowly opening the bottom drawer. He reached in and held up the thick stack of securely bound papers. "You mean these?"

Elena reached her hand out across the desk. "Give them to me. They belong to him."

Colin stood up abruptly, yanking the papers out of her reach. "I can't imagine that useless old man actually knows how to trade stocks. He kept a neat little secret stash hidden in here. But without these specific documents, your father's effort during those long years is all in vain. He can't claim a single dime."

To her horror, Colin turned on his heel, grabbed the edge of the thick stack, and cruelly shoved the entire batch into the heavy-duty paper shredder sitting beside the filing cabinet. The machine roared to life, chewing viciously through the pages.

"Stop! Colin, what are you doing?" Elena screamed, lunging desperately for the machine to hit the power button.

Colin shoved her back by the shoulder with a harsh, mocking laugh. The last of the financial records disappeared, turning into useless white confetti in the plastic bin.

"I'm merely shredding the useless papers of my own company," Colin sneered, brushing imaginary dust off his tailored suit. "What does it have to do with you?" He picked up the desk phone, his eyes locked onto hers with cold delight. "Security. Get up to Gareth's old office. Throw this trespasser out right now."

Minutes later, two burly security guards stormed into the private office. They grabbed Elena roughly by her arms, ignoring her loud protests. They dragged her struggling form out of the room, through the crowded main lobby, and shoved her forcefully out the front glass doors.

Elena stumbled forward on the concrete steps and crashed hard onto the rough ground in front of the massive building. The few personal belongings she had gathered from her own desk spilled out of her bag, scattering across the pavement.

Seeing her hit the rough concrete, Kaelen dropped the mountain bike with a metallic crash. A dark, freezing anger flashed in his eyes. He immediately stepped forward, his fists clenched tight, fully ready to snap the guard's hands and make them pay.

The lead guard pulled a crackling electric baton from his heavy utility belt, pointing it menacingly at Kaelen's chest. "What? Do you want to pick a fight with me, beggar? Believe it or not, I'll break your limbs right here," the arrogant guard sneered, stepping closer.

Hearing the violent threat, a terrified Elena scrambled up from the ground, ignoring the sting in her palms. She knew their precarious legal situation and how the Stantons would use any excuse to destroy them. She rushed forward and hastily grabbed Kaelen's tense arm, holding onto him tightly. "Kaelen, please, stop!" she pleaded, her voice trembling. "You promised me not to hit anyone before this!"

Kaelen stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw ticked rhythmically as he stared down the guard, but he felt Elena's trembling hands clutching his sleeve. Reluctantly sparing the arrogant guard for now, he took a slow, deep breath to steady his racing heart.

He knelt silently on the pavement and helped Elena gather her scattered pens and notebooks. Once her bag was packed, he led her to the busy curb and hailed a passing yellow taxi. He opened the back door and gently guided her inside the vehicle.

"Go home and rest," he told her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Elena was crying, the sheer frustration finally breaking her strong resolve.

He closed the heavy door and watched the cab drive away into the distance, blending into the city traffic. His icy, terrifying gaze returned to his face. He slowly turned his head back toward the towering Stanton Corporation building.

"Lena, I only promised you not to hit anyone myself," he murmured, his voice dropping to a deadly, chilling whisper. "I didn't say that I wouldn't let someone else do it!"

Shortly after Kaelen departed the busy street scene, the internal chaos inside Stanton Corporation reached a boiling point. Dorian stormed through the heavy doors into the luxurious general manager's office on the top floor.

Inside, Victor was pacing frantically behind his massive mahogany desk, his tie yanked loose. He was already frantic over a sudden, inexplicable wave of canceled collaborations. Business phones had been ringing off the hook all morning; major suppliers were backing out, and key clients were tearing up lucrative contracts without a single word of explanation.

Dorian walked straight to the center of the spacious room. He pulled out a stark transfer agreement from his jacket and dropped it heavily onto the polished desk.

"My boss is offering ten million to buy out Stanton Corporation!" Dorian commanded, his deep voice echoing with unyielding authority. "Sign it now."

Victor stopped his endless pacing. He stared blankly at the legal documents for a long second. Then, his face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.

"What? My unicorn company's estimated value is easily more than one billion, and you want to buy it with a measly ten million?" Victor thundered, his face turning purple. He stared at Dorian as if he were looking at a crazy monkey that had wandered off the street. "Why don't you just go robbing instead? Plus, I won't sell the company, regardless of the price!"