Chapter 1 Immature kid
It was already scorching in mid-April, and the streets of Springview City in M Country bustled with activity. Like any other ordinary day, cars lined up at intersections, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. People of all ages strolled along the sidewalks, while the distant whirring of machinery and the intermittent blaring of horns made the city feel especially busy.
MAJESTIC, the commercial heart of Springview City, was no exception. Towering skyscrapers stood proudly, each one competing in luxury and splendor, while the street itself buzzed with elegant events. Cars of various calibers came and went. Since it was lunchtime on a weekend, the restaurants were crowded with people entering and exiting in pairs.
Inside one of the most striking buildings-a structure that seemed to reach for the heavens and sparkled under the warm April sunlight, a head full of fine, shiny, tussled black hair, skin clear like jade, a straight nose and sword shaped eyebrows, the man rested his head on a finely carved mahogany desk. The office radiated luxury: leather chairs, a reddish-brown rectangular table, and an aura of quiet opulence. The young man’s black hair was soft, fluffy, and slightly tousled, giving off an air of careless charm.
Ring!!!
The phone on the desk rang sharply, jolting the young man awake. He lifted his head, revealing a sculpted face with sharp features. His black, almond-shaped eyes, drowsy and confused, curved slightly upward at the corners. His straight nose and thin lips, parted slightly in a yawn, completed a picture of sleepy elegance. As he picked up the ringing phone, his thick eyelashes cast faint shadows over his half-lidded eyes. His movements were slow and lazy.
"Yes?" he answered.
James sat up straight and stretched his tired body. The sunlight filtering through the French windows highlighted his pale neck and prominent collarbone, accentuating his slender frame.
Assistant Marx’s hurried voice came through the phone the moment the call connected.
“Sir, the Master just arrived at the company branch you’re in. The Chairman came unannounced. Would you like to meet him?”
James frowned. The sleepiness in his eyes disappeared instantly, replaced by a sharp gleam.
“Prepare the car. I’m going out,” he said, swiveling his chair slightly before standing up. He grabbed his jacket and asked, while walking out, “Which elevator?”
“Chairman took the public elevator,” Marx replied.
James paused. He had planned to take the public elevator—after all, Chairman Reagan would never use it. But who would’ve thought his father was so eager to catch him off guard?
“He must really want to meet you, sir,” Marx said sarcastically, albeit respectfully.
Two minutes later, James strode into the garage with long strides. Marx asked, “Boss, where to?”
“Give me the key,” James replied.
Marx handed over the car key and stepped back, bowing respectfully. James got into the sleek black Aston Martin and sped off like a black python chasing its prey, leaving Marx in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
Back inside the building, Chairman Reagan entered the office James had just vacated. The scent of mint and oud still lingered in the air. His face was grim, his tall figure radiating the aura of a battle-hardened general. His assistant, terrified, kept his head lowered and took a few cautious steps back. It was obvious—the young boss had escaped.
“That useless kid—hmpf!” Chairman Reagan grunted. No one in M Country dared treat him this way—except that punk of a son.
“Master, what should we do? Shall I call James back to the office?” Assistant Canes asked carefully.
Chairman Reagan tugged at his tie, loosened it, then tightened it again in frustration. He straightened his tuxedo and shoved one hand into his pocket, regaining his usual commanding presence.
“Why can’t that kid be as sensible as his brother? Forget it. Let’s go. I’ll definitely catch him next time.”
---
The sun beamed brightly down on the black Aston Martin as it sped down the road. James rested his elbow on the window, fingers dangling freely. A smirk danced on his lips, adding a touch of mischief to his otherwise refined features.
The sports car pulled to a halt outside a shopping mall, drawing attention from passersby of all genders. James stepped out, effortlessly capturing everyone's gaze with his striking appearance and confident aura.
Ten Minutes Later
A basket filled with chocolates and sweets thudded heavily onto the counter, startling the sales assistant who had been helping another customer. Shocked, the customer looked up and, upon recognizing James, bowed slightly before gathering his items and moving to another counter.
The girl behind the register—her clear eyes peeking out from behind large round glasses, her delicate jaw slightly tense—frowned at the intruder.
Looking at the smug young man who clearly had no awareness of his arrogant behavior, Emelda became incensed.
“Pack this up. Hurry,” James said, eyes on his phone, not even glancing at her.
Her face twisted in anger. She didn’t notice her colleagues signaling frantically from nearby counters. This was her first day at the main branch, having recently transferred from a subsidiary where she’d earned “Best Staff” twice in three months. She prided herself on her work ethic and treated every customer with respect. She had no intention of tolerating a spoiled brat.
“Who do you think you are? Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” she snapped.
James raised an eyebrow, looking down at her like she was an amusing clown. That only provoked her further.
“Maybe you should return to primary school to learn how to behave. What’s with your attitude?”
A crowd began to form. Some passersby recognized James as the eldest son of the Foxx family—a billionaire dynasty. Phones were whipped out, ready to capture the spectacle. One staff member discreetly dialed a number.
“Manager Keynes, we’ve got a situation downstairs…”
James scowled. “Little girl, are you new here, plain stupid, or just crazy?”
“Nope,” Emelda shot back, standing tall. “But I’m not an easy target either. Maybe someone needs to teach an immature kid like you how to behave.”
James stared at her name tag, his handsome face hardening with displeasure.
“Emelda, you’re not qualified to teach me anything. As of this moment, you’re no longer employed here,” he said softly, as if speaking to a child. He reached for his basket to leave, but it was stuck.
Emelda held it down firmly. More whispers erupted from the crowd.
“Does she really think she can teach him a lesson?”
“She’s brave, but she’s probably finished.”
“Is he the boss?”
"He's a tycoon, how can she not recognize him?"
"Maybe she wants to get close to him"
“The manager’s coming—this is going to be a good show.”
James turned back, only to meet Emelda’s bright hazel eyes behind her glasses. His patience was running thin.
“What now?” he asked coldly.
“What do you think?” she replied, suddenly smiling in a way that made his spine tingle.
“I’ve said what I wanted to say. Now…” She took a deep breath, then smiled brightly. James’s frown deepened.
“Let’s do business,” she declared cheerfully.
Did he hear her right? Did she not realize he could actually fire her?
“I just fired you,” he said flatly.
Still smiling, Emelda calmly packed the chocolates into a plastic bag. James shivered involuntarily—he found her calmness unsettling.
“Sir, will you be paying by card or cash?” she asked sweetly.
“Idiot,” he muttered without thinking.
“Customer, are you cursing me? Do I need to teach you some manners by force?” Her expression was menacing.
James instinctively reached for his wallet—only to realize it was missing.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
Emelda, catching on, smirked.
