Rapid footsteps approached the door, followed by a sharp knock. “Mr. Jardin,” called a voice from
the other side.
Zach turned from peering at the door to Madelyn, noting her swollen red eyes and the tear tracks on
her face. He softly brushed away her tears with his thumb. “I’ve got some things to take care of, but I’ll
be back soon,” he assured her with a gentle tone.
Zach stood up, and Madelyn, looking mad, chucked a pillow at him. He did not even flinch. Picking up
the pillow, he put it back behind her.
“I’ll never marry you!” Madelyn snapped, her eyes fiery.
Zach smoothed her hair gently, “Hey, just be good, okay?”
Zach exited the room and closed the door behind him. As he walked, he heard sounds echoing–a sign
the hallway was not soundproof. Upon going one floor down, he asked his bodyguard, “What’s
the situation?”
Speaking softly, the bodyguard replied, “We caught a paparazzi snapping photos.”
The warmth in Zach’s eyes turned to ice, “Where is he?”
“He’s detained in the lobby, waiting for your instructions.”
A reporter was sprawled on the ground in the lobby, his pricey camera lying nearby.
Patrick Berry, the reporter, was desperately trying to free himself. He said in a strong voice, “Let me go!
I’ve done nothing wrong. Just so you know, my friend has already called the cops. If you
don’t let me out of here, I’m going to sue you guys.’
Zach said defiantly, “Go ahead and try calling them then.”
Descending with a presence that turned heads, Zach caught the eye of the paparazzi. Known for his
dramatic climb from a foster child to the CEO of Jardin Corporation, his influence was unmatched in
Ventropolis. Now, face to face with Zach, Patrick found himself speechless.
“It-It was all a joke, Mr. Jardin,” Patrick stuttered in haste. “I swear, there are only pictures of
sceneries on that camera–nothing of you, I promise.”
Zach received the camera from the bodyguard. He sat with an ease that belied the intimidating air
1/3
At first, Patrick thought Zach was just a tough CEO who had muscled his way to the top, no big deal.
However, once he actually met Zach, Patrick regretted ever messing with him. “You’ve looked through
everything, Mr. Jardin. May I leave now?” he asked.
Zach quickly went through the photos on the camera, showing no emotion. For a brief second,
Patrick hoped he might get away with just a warning. However, Zach’s command came quietly but
with an edge, “Break his leg.”
The bodyguard gave a grave nod, “Yes, sir.”
Patrick’s face turned white as he stammered, “W-Wait, please. This is a mistake. The cops are on
their way!”
Zach tossed the camera aside and gave Patrick a stern look, “Start talking now, or you’re in for
more trouble. Three, two…”
Before Zach could reach ‘one,’ panic overtook Patrick. “Okay, okay! It’s on me,” he admitted, fear
overtaking him.
Following Zach’s silent signal, the bodyguard allowed Patrick to stand up. Quickly, Patrick’s gaze
shifted to the door, and he made a break for it. He had not gotten far when an ashtray flew at him,
striking him right behind the knee. The impact sent him crashing down to his knees.
“You’ve got a death wish,” Zach snapped with a hard gaze, his impatience evident. “Find the
camera on him and break his leg.”
Perplexed at how Zach knew about the concealed camera, Patrick could only stammer his remorse, “I-
I’ve made a terrible mistake, Mr. Jardin. I only did it to provide for my family; I have a wife and kids.
Please, I implore you.” His head hung low as he collapsed to his knees, the image of
regret and desperation.
“If you want to live, help me with something,” Zach said.
“Sure, sure,” Patrick replied hastily, his hands shaking as he held out the camera. “I’ll follow your
orders. This is the camera I had hidden on me. If you think I’m holding back, go ahead and search
me.”
Known for his attention to detail, Zach watched as the bodyguard thoroughly searched Patrick. They
only managed to find a set of car keys and a pack of cigarettes with just three left inside,
proving that no stone was left unturned.
2/3
“You’ll receive a call at 7 a.m. For lying, you’re fortunate to keep your left hand,” Zach said with
finality.
“Thank you, Mr. Jardin.”
To Patrick, being left with one hand was merciful compared to a fate far worse. Having only heard tales
of Zach’s uncompromising nature, experiencing it was a sobering reality. He cast one last cautious look
before carefully sliding into his car and accelerating away. As he merged onto the freeway, leaving the
winding mountain road behind, he finally felt a sense of escape.
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