Chapter 13: Slapped By Reality!

Logan Whis didn’t spare Zane so much as another glance. He turned smartly on his heel, straightened his jacket, and bowed, a deep, deliberate bow, the kind reserved for people several tiers above him on the social ladder.

"President Stan." His voice had completely changed. Every trace of the cold authority from moments ago was gone, replaced by a warm, almost fawning deference. "My deepest apologies. If I’d known you were coming tonight, I would have arranged a proper reception. Please forgive the oversight."

Zane’s mind had spent the last thirty seconds on a roller coaster, and it still hadn’t come down.

A minute ago, his cousin had been his trump card, the heavy artillery he’d called in to crush this arrogant nobody once and for all. He’d been looking forward to watching Stan beg for mercy. He’d been savoring it.

Instead, he’d been slapped to the floor by the very man he’d summoned. Kicked in the ribs until he couldn’t breathe. Left curling around his stomach while the room watched in silent horror.

And now Logan was bowing to the kid he’d demanded be taught a lesson. It was beyond humiliating. It didn’t even feel real.

"I’ve heard so much about President Stan lately," Logan went on smoothly, straightening up with a carefully rehearsed smile. "The reputation barely does you justice. It’s an honor to finally meet you in person."

A low, bewildered murmur rippled through the room.

’What in the world is happening?’

The guests exchanged stunned, sidelong looks.

Logan Whis, the Logan Whis they knew, the man whose family connections had made this HYTV one of the most exclusive venues in the city, was brown-nosing a college student in a cheap jacket. Brown-nosing him hard. With a bow, no less.

’Who on earth was Stan Harrison?’

As if sensing the unspoken question rolling around the room, Logan turned back toward Zane, his voice hardening into something sharp enough to draw blood.

"This is President Stan," he snapped, jabbing a finger in Stan’s direction. "The man who just acquired thirty percent of the shares in Wanhai Group. Is that someone you think you can afford to pick a fight with?"

The room detonated. Wanhai Group was one of the pillars of Inksea Island’s economy, a sprawling conglomerate with fingers in real estate, hospitality, logistics, and half a dozen other industries. Its chairman was one of the most powerful men in the region. And even he only held around thirty percent of the company’s shares.

Which meant Stan Harrison, this plainly dressed young man quietly sitting beside Maya Zimmerman, was on equal footing with the chairman himself.

Across the room, Stan kept his expression perfectly neutral, but inside, something clicked into place.

’Wanhai Group. So that’s what that was.’

The system’s binding reward from a few nights ago flashed back into his memory. ’Thirty percent of Wanhai Group shares.’

He’d accepted it at the time without really thinking too much about what it meant, another line item on the growing list of system rewards, filed away for later review. He hadn’t bothered to look deep into exactly what Wanhai Group was, or just how enormous "thirty percent" of it actually turned out to be.

Apparently it was enormous enough that the manager of a luxury HYTV was currently bowing to him in front of a dozen witnesses.

Zane, meanwhile, had gone the color of old paper.

’What in the name of all that is holy did I just pick a fight with?’

The man he’d been sneering at. The man he’d thrown beer on. The man he’d summoned his cousin to beat into the carpet. This man was a major shareholder of Wanhai Group.

This man was, in every conceivable sense of the word, so far above Zane on the social ladder that Zane wasn’t even in the same building.

He wasn’t fit to carry Stan Harrison’s shoes. He wasn’t fit to be in the same room.

"What are you still standing there for?" Logan barked at him. "Apologize. Now."

Zane snapped out of it and practically threw himself forward.

"I’m, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have made trouble with you, I was completely out of line,"

Whatever shred of pride he’d walked in with was gone. The only thing left was the desperate, animal hope that Stan might decide not to ruin his life tonight.

On the couch, Maya watched the scene unfold with quiet amusement. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest. A man who could casually drop over five million dollars in her livestream room a few nights ago was exactly the kind of man who’d turn out to be a majority shareholder in a conglomerate. It fit.

Everyone else in the room, however, was visibly reeling.

The word shock didn’t quite cover what was written across their faces. They’d spent the last half hour ignoring Stan like he was wallpaper.

A few of them had actually urged him to drink Zane’s bottle of wine. A few of them had called him little brother in that patronizing tone people used on nobodies.

And all of them were now realizing, in slow, sickening clarity, exactly who they’d been talking down to.

Zane had wanted to humiliate Stan in front of everyone. Instead, he’d humiliated himself so thoroughly that no one in this room would ever look at him the same way again.

"A single apology," Stan said coldly, "and that’s it?"

Zane’s blood ran cold. He’d known, the moment Logan started bowing, that this wasn’t going to end with a handshake and a smile. A man like Stan Harrison wouldn’t get humiliated in public, by a bottle of beer, no less, and just let it go. There had to be a price. There was always a price.

Logan caught the look on Stan’s face and shot Zane a sharp, wordless signal. ’Do something. Now. Before this gets worse.’

Zane gritted his teeth. Then, in front of the entire room, he raised his own hand and slapped himself across the face.

PAH!

PAH!!

PAH!!!

PAH!!!!

Hard, open-palmed slaps, the kind that left handprints. He didn’t hold back. He couldn’t afford to hold back. He struck himself four, five, six times in rapid succession, until his cheeks were swollen and bright red, until the side of his mouth started to bleed.

"I’m sorry," he choked out between hits. "I was wrong. I’ll never, I’ll never try to show off in front of you again. Please. Please be the bigger man. Don’t lower yourself to dealing with trash like me."

It was, without question, the single most humiliating moment of Zane’s life. And every person in that room had a front-row seat.

Stan let the silence stretch for a long, deliberate moment then he said in a cold voice... "Get lost."