THE BILLIONAIRE'S CRYBABY
Chapter 27: A DAY TO REMEMBER

Chapter 27: A DAY TO REMEMBER

"Ace?" He heard his grandma say his name, and took a deep breath.

"Hello grandma."

"What is this I hear from your Aunt?" She wasted no time to ask.

"I can’t defend myself, if I don’t know what was said," he replied nonchalantly.

"Do you hear yourself right now? Your Aunt said you practically shoved her out of your house. I saw the bruise on her hand with my own eyes. What is going on with you?" She asked in an alarmed voice.

Ace inhaled sharply. Of course his Aunt had spoken like the true victim she wasn’t. Lies flowed so easily from her lips, it left him flabbergasted most of the time. But this was a lie directly on his character. He was a lot of things. Broody, rude, dismissive, but he would never physically hurt a woman. And if that was the new path his Aunt had formed to clinch victory, she was in for a rude awakening.

"I held my aunt’s hand, and dragged her out of my house," he confessed.

"And you did that forcefully with the intent to hurt her. Is this what you’ve become?" She quizzed, sounding disappointed.

"I walked in on Aunt Celine hurting my wife. Fay was in tears when I came into the house. She is lucky that throwing her out of my house is the only thing I did. I know she’s probably beside you right now. If she’s not, please tell her this. The next time she comes into my house uninvited, I’d have the cops arrest her for trespassing." He turned the phone off, and tossed it on the bed.

"Damnit!" He cursed, punching his palm, as he paced back and forth.

She was actually winning. If his grandma who never questioned him throughout a lifetime of being the black sheep was doing so now, it meant she was doing a very fine job of rubbishing his image.

His own mother had not called him since that chaotic dinner. She was also someone that usually couldn’t go a day without calling, or at the very least, sending a text message.

"Fuck!"

He balled his fist, pissed to his very core. This momentum shift could change a lot of things for him. Most importantly, the inheritance. The reading was in exactly one week. In one week, he would be named the legitimate heir, but would have to wait out his one year in marriage before completing the paperwork.

Everything was now at the risk of going up in flames, because of one woman. One greedy bitch!

"You’re going to deserve what’s coming for you, Celine," he muttered through his teeth.

"But I have more important things to do right now."

He headed straight to the door, and continued through the hallway, to the lounge.

This was supposed to be a relaxation spot, but he had also turned it into the designated meeting spot, everytime he had something to say to such a large staff.

As he walked in, they all went silent. He didn’t immediately speak, but took out his time to scan the small crowd.

Some had worked for him since he was a little boy, many came around as he grew, and others were recent hires.

They were unusually large for a bachelor, which he was before recently marrying Fay. But he had a problem with turning down people looking for honest work. As long as they were ready to put in the work, they were always going to get a job in his house.

Tonight wasn’t a call for gratitude though. It was anger, annoyance, and an egoistic battle.

"Who was at the gate today when Aunt Celine came in?" He cleared his throat, and began.

Everyone began to turn their heads to the side, all communicating with their eyes. He tried to hold in his anger for as long as he could. It wasn’t rocket science. They were just three guys who rotated their stay at the gate. If they couldn’t even figure it out within themselves, he didn’t need staff like that.

"It was Blake, Sir," Henry, one of the three gate watchers said.

"Is this true, Blake?" He questioned the newcomer who he had only just hired last month.

It felt like they were playing games, and he was the pawn. Perhaps, thinking because he was new and didn’t know all the laws, they could easily go scot-free, using him as a shield.

"It’s true Sir." He nodded.

"So no other person was around when this happened? Everyone was so preoccupied, and busy doing other things? No one could tell him not to open the damned gate? What’d I say about people coming into my house?"

"Don’t let them in without your permission," they chorused.

"Did you hear that, Blake? I don’t appreciate anyone coming into my house. Not my mother, my sister’s, heck not even my grandma!" He raised his voice slightly, causing the frightened man to jump like a wet chicken.

"I’m sorry sir." He bowed apologetically.

"I don’t need your apology. Another thing you’d do well to learn whilst working in this house. One too many times of sorry, gets incessant. I don’t want to hear it, except you purposely just want to irritate me. Do your jobs, and keep it moving. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," he said with his head still bowed.

"And for fuck sake, raise your head when you’re talking to me. What is this? The archaic times?" He hissed, as lines of frustration spread across his face.

"Sorr—" he began to say, when he caught himself just in time, and kept mute.

"Anyway, I’m going to let it go this one time, because you didn’t know. Next time, it wouldn’t be an excuse. If anyone is confused about my very simple rules, please ask the oldies amongst you. I’m certain they’d be glad to tidy up any confusions. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads, negatively.

"But I do have a question. Where the heck is Chef Alice?"

Everyone went mum again. No one wanted to speak up first. They all looked from the ceiling, through the windows, and at every inanimate object their gaze found. Everything to avoid looking at Ace who nothing ever flew past.

"I believe I asked a question?"

"She’s in the kitchen Sir." Marilyn stepped forward to defend her friend.

"Didn’t I ask everyone to be present here? Cam, did I?" He turned to his personal driver.

"You did, Sir." He nodded affirmatively.

"Is she suddenly excluded from everyone because she’s the chef?" He returned his scrutinizing gaze to Marilyn, whose lip quivered a little.

She thought surely, Ace wouldn’t notice anyone missing, due to the size of the crowd. She forgot he was like a hawk. Nothing went past him.

"Sir Ace, it’s not exactly like that."

"Then please, explain it to me. Why’s she missing?"

"The meal she’s preparing for dinner requires a little attention. She asked me to explain this to you, but I couldn’t do it before you started to speak."

"I gave you the chance to speak when I asked for questions?" He cocked a brow, as he gave her a levelheaded stare.

"You did," she admitted.

"Let’s call tonight a night of grace. Everything is without consequence for just this night. Tell the chef to see me when she’s done," he said, and swiftly turned around to exit the room. But before he could take a step forward, chef Alice slipped into the room.

"Good evening sir," she greeted, a little out of breath.

"Good evening to you too, chef Alice. Could you please explain why you’re just joining the meeting? Your best friend was just defending you, but I’d like to hear from the horse’s mouth."

"It’s— it’s the lady. I went into her room to serve her dinner, since she didn’t have much of an appetite this morning, and Marilyn told me she hadn’t eaten anything all day."

His eyes softened at the mention of Fay. With a nudge of his head, he urged her to continue.

"She didn’t respond when I knocked, so I thought she wanted a little privacy. But as I turned to leave, I heard sputtering sounds. I tried to open the door, but it’s locked from inside. I don’t know sir, I have a terrible fee–"

He was out before she could complete her words. Running through the hallway, he stopped at her door, and began to knock.

"Fay! Open up Fay, it’s Ace!" He knocked.

He became apprehensive when she neither responded with her voice, or shuffling feet.

"Fay!" He banged on the door harder.

Still, there was no sound, or response. His heart took a dive, and began to pound loudly against his chest. A pool of sweat instantly formed on his forehead as he knocked.

So many negative thoughts flowed through his head, making him dizzy with the fear of the unknown.

"Fay!"

Behind him, some of the staff rallied, with their mouths opened, and their eyes widened.

He paused, when he felt liquid on his leg. Throwing his head down, he found water flowing.

"Oh no! Fay!" He screamed.

"I think this is the spare key," he heard his butler say behind him, and whipped his head around.

Snatching the key forcefully, he shoved it into the keyhole, and turned.

"It’s not working. It’s not fucking working!" he tossed it to the ground, watching it float atop the water.

"It’s bolted inside," Cam said.

"Sir there’s water. There’s lots of water!" Marilyn began to cry.

"Move back!" He suddenly screamed. "I’m going to breakdown this fucking door!"