chapter 4
Hazel looked at the mansion on the way to college. "Why do these people want my little house?" she thought. "Where should I go?" She wiped her eyes and walked quickly. Near the library, she met her friends.
"Where were you?" Jain asked.
"I was sick..." Hazel lied, her face showing the exhaustion of crying. Her friends believed her, as she genuinely looked worn out. The three of them walked to class, chatting
"Look at my new dress," Serin said with a happy face.
"Wow... Isn't that from AJ's exclusive collection?" Jain asked.
"Yes, the latest one. I really love it. You know, it's very comfortable too."
Hazel looked at herself. She had only five old dresses. Her salary wasn't enough for her college fees and books. "Now what?" she sighed.
As usual, the teachers scolded her for not completing her work. It was a familiar routine for Hazel. In the afternoon, she skipped class and sat in the library, thinking about her future. "What should I do now? I need to find a new job. Otherwise, how can I continue my studies? She sat there, staring at the rows of books, hoping for a solution. The library, usually a place of solace, now felt like a reminder of the resources she lacked. She needed a plan, a way to keep her dreams alive despite the mounting challenges."Please, God, send me a guardian angel."
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Alexander Jonathan—a name powerful enough to make people tremble. Known globally as a prominent businessman, his empire spans across both legal and illegal enterprises. Tragedy struck early in his life when he lost his wife at the age of 21, leaving him to focus all his love and attention on their only son.
Christopher Alexander, his son, grew up surrounded by wealth and influence. Unlike his father, who is known for his kind heart and compassion, Christopher is notoriously arrogant and ruthless. Despite his father's efforts to instill good values, Christopher's upbringing in luxury has made him indifferent to the struggles of others. The stark contrast between father and son is a well-known tale in the circles of high society, highlighting the complexities of wealth, power, and family dynamics.
Christopher stared at the mirror, his eyes red with anger. "Who slapped me?" he demanded, his voice icy as he turned to Alfred, who stood with his head bowed.
"I'm asking you, Alfred—who? Was it Dad?" Christopher's frown deepened.
"No, sir. It was a girl," Alfred replied quietly.
"A girl? Olivia? When did she come back?" Christopher's mind raced. Olivia Gardens, a famous actress, was the only person he had cared about since his father. She was four years older than him and had always been a significant figure in his life.
"No... not Ms. Olivia," Alfred hesitated.
"Then who?" Christopher's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Tell me, Alfred—who dared to slap me?"
"The girl who lives near our house," Alfred said, still looking down.
"Her? Why would she do that?" Christopher's anger flared anew, his pride wounded. The audacity of someone from the neighboring house, a place he had always considered beneath him, to strike him was unthinkable. He would not let this insult go unpunished.
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Hazel walked quickly, eager to get home. She had spent the day job hunting after college, but once again, she found no positive results. As she passed the mansion, she didn't even glance at it, her mind preoccupied with her own worries.
When she neared her neighborhood, she stopped abruptly. The scene before her was unimaginable. There was no house—everything was shattered on the ground. "What the...?" she muttered, breaking into a run towards where her home once stood.
When she reached the spot, she saw that nothing was left. Everything was destroyed, reduced to rubble. "No...," she whispered, sinking to the ground. She was so overwhelmed with shock that she couldn't even cry. She just sat there on the dirt, numb and disbelieving, as the enormity of her loss began to sink in.
"Hello, Ms. Brave," a voice came from behind Hazel. She turned slowly, her eyes meeting the cold smile of Christopher Alexander.
"I've been waiting to see you, Ms. Brave. What audacity you had to slap me, you slum dog. Consider this a small punishment for your insolence," he said, gesturing to the ruins of her home.
"How dare you?" Hazel rushed towards him, grabbing his collar. "How dare you? What should I have done? It was you who came to my home, you who started the problems! And now my home is gone!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.
"Leave me, bitch," Christopher snarled, throwing her hands off him. "How dare you even stand in front of me?" His glare was icy and unforgiving.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Hazel's voice trembled as she looked at him, her eyes filled with desperation and anger.
He smirked. "This was a small punishment for slapping me," he said, turning on his heel and walking back towards his mansion.
Hazel, now alone, collapsed to the ground where her home once stood, reduced to ashes by Christopher's cruelty. The eighteen-year-old sat there, feeling utterly defeated and overwhelmed by the devastation surrounding her.