Hostile Haven

"What does that even mean?" Kaelen asked. The words rooted him to the center of the cramped room, his mind struggling to process his father's cryptic claim about a ticket to a wealthy family.

"Stop talking and let's go!" Mr. Pryce muttered, driven by the urgency of their situation. "We need to leave before those thugs you knocked out wake up from their nap."

Kaelen remained frozen in stunned silence, staring at his father. Sensing the dangerous hesitation, Mr. Pryce stepped behind him and aggressively shoved him toward the open door.

"Hey! Watch it," Kaelen grumbled, stumbling forward before catching his balance. "How come the older you get, the more violent you become?"

"I said walk!" Pryce snapped. He forcefully pushed his stubborn son past the threshold, ignoring Kaelen's verbal complaints and physical resistance.

They stepped out onto the sidewalk. Several local onlookers paused, their awkward stares locking onto the spectacle of an old man shoving a younger man down the street. Pryce ignored them entirely, keeping his hands planted on Kaelen's back to keep him moving.

"Fine, I’ll walk! Stop hitting me," Kaelen muttered, shooting a questioning glare over his shoulder. "But you have to tell me where we’re going."

"All you need to know is that this destination is the safest place for you right now," Pryce insisted, his tone firm and thick with desperate anxiety. He paused on the curb, gripping Kaelen’s arm. "Before we depart, promise me something. Once we arrive, you must not cause any trouble. You will keep your head low at all times."

Kaelen sighed, heavily feeling the weight of his father's anxiety. "That sounds awful already."

"Kaelen!" Pryce's voice cracked. "This isn't the time for jokes. Promise me!"

Reluctantly, Kaelen surrendered. "Yeah. Sure. I promise."

Minutes later, they hailed a cab. They endured a tense, agonizingly silent ride across the city. Neither of them spoke a single word.

The cab finally pulled up before an enormous, fancy fence guarding an opulent estate. Kaelen and Mr. Pryce stepped out onto the pristine pavement and approached the massive gates. Pryce confidently pressed the intercom button and waited.

However, their arrival at this supposed safe haven was met with immediate, unprovoked hostility. A security guard stepped out of his booth, his gaze sweeping over Mr. Pryce's worn-out clothes before sizing up Kaelen's shabby appearance. His face twisted into an ugly sneer of pure disgust.

Assuming they were beggars, the guard barked, "I don't have any money to give you guys. Now leave!"

Instantly, Kaelen's fists clenched tight at his sides. His volatile temper flared to life, a sudden urge to strike back surging through him. Before he could take a step, Mr. Pryce’s hand clamped down on his wrist, smoothly anchoring him in place.

Maintaining a calm and dignified demeanor, Pryce looked the guard in the eye. "I am sorry about the misunderstanding, but we are not beggars. My son and I respectfully request an audience with Madam Agatha."

The guard responded by bursting into a loud, mocking fit of laughter, deliberately trying to provoke the duo. He laughed so hard that tears rolled down the corners of his eyes.

"Not beggars? Right," the guard scoffed. "You guys can't fool me. I have seen countless people like you, and they always say they are not beggars. But in the end, I have to forcefully remove them from Madam Agatha’s sight myself."

Kaelen's knuckles turned white. His eyes went ice-cold as he fixed a dangerous stare on the mocking guard.

"Look," Kaelen reiterated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous edge. "My dad and I are not looking for trouble. We just need to speak with this Madam Agatha."

The guard’s amusement instantly morphed into angry hostility at the perceived disrespect.

Without warning, the guard raised his heavy security baton and aggressively swung it directly at Kaelen.

In a split-second act of self-sacrifice, Pryce rushed forward, throwing his body in the path of the weapon. The baton slammed directly against his own arm, taking the brutal, bone-jarring blow.

Seeing his elderly father struck down, a murderous rage boiled within Kaelen. His muscles tensed, ready to erupt into pure violence.

"I don’t think my grandmother pays you to assault the elderly."

A soothing but commanding voice cut through the heavy tension.

Before Kaelen could retaliate, a stunningly beautiful woman approached the gates. Her glossy skin and elegant ebony-black hair instantly captured Kaelen's attention, inexplicably and miraculously pacifying the violent storm in his chest. His anger slowly began to subside.

Her commanding presence struck immediate fear into the guard.

"Miss Serena," the guard stammered in absolute submission, instantly dropping his weapon to the ground.

Gracefully, the woman walked past the terrified guard, stopping right in front of Mr. Pryce. "Hello. I am Serena, the youngest granddaughter of the prestigious Henshaw household," she introduced herself. "Feeling responsible for this altercation, I sincerely apologize. Please give me your account number so I can offer monetary compensation for his violent actions."

Pryce fiercely shook his head. He pulled his arm away, outright refusing the charity. "I do not need money."

Serena blinked in shock, her deeply curious blue eyes widening. "Oh. Then what is it you want?"

Pryce hastily let go of her hand. Pulling Kaelen closer to his side, he met Serena’s gaze and revealed his true purpose.

"I possess a letter bearing the official Henshaw family stamp," Pryce announced firmly. "And I think it is finally time for Madam Agatha to receive it."

Intrigued by this bold claim, Serena studied them for a moment before nodding softly. "If that is the case, then please follow me."

The guard hastily stepped aside, humiliated and grumbling under his breath. Serena personally escorted them past the gates, leading them deep into the sprawling estate.

Minutes later, they stepped into the mansion’s opulent, lavishly decorated living room. Serena politely gestured toward the luxurious cushions, offering Kaelen and his father seats.

However, before they could even settle in, an imposing elderly lady marched into the room. Her face was severely contorted into a harsh, deeply judgmental frown the moment she laid eyes on them.

"Serena," the matriarch demanded, her voice echoing. "Why have you allowed two homeless people to sit on my ascetic couch?"

Serena was visibly gripped by fear. She was already fighting a steep uphill battle to prove her worth as the family's top heritor, constantly undermined because her father was the matriarch's least favorite child.

Upon hearing the matriarch's blatant insult, Kaelen's suppressed, volatile anger rapidly reawakened. His jaw clenched tight. He wanted to lash out, but he bit back the venomous retort resting on his tongue, honoring the heavy promise he made to his father to keep his head down.

Remaining perfectly composed despite the blatant disrespect, Mr. Pryce stood tall. He looked directly at the hostile Madam Agatha with an unwavering, straight face.

"I formally apologize for any discomfort our sudden presence might cause you, Madam Agatha," Pryce stated smoothly. He held her gaze, showing no fear as he dropped a massive bombshell. "But according to the official paper in my possession, my son and Serena are supposed to get married."