A Shard Of Yesterday

Chapter 5. Mr. I don't need a lighter

Arlo.

Power. Five letters, yet a force capable of reshaping destinies. It surges through you like a jolt of electricity, a intoxicating elixir that inflates egos and bends circumstances to your will. Yet, its allure is a double-edged sword. The yearning to possess it can be as agonizing as the sting of its loss, driving lovers to desperate measures and empires to crumble.

My dad,  always said power ain't about how much cash you got. It's about who's in charge. The strong ones, they use power to bend the world to their will. Not just little stuff, mind you, but their whole life. Power lets you be the boss of your own story.

He was right anyway, but only half right  and he wouldn't know much about that, would he?

Power was more than control.

To me  power isn't something given, it's forged. It's the fire that burns so hot, you don't feel the pain when you push beyond your limits. It's the presence that makes your enemies flinch before they even raise a fist. Power, that's how you steer the situation, not the other way around.

Power is an ultimate tool for manipulation.

It worked perfectly for Cora Moore. The little fly's ego vanished after signing the contract. It was as if it had never existed. Yes, her sister got back to work as I promised. She hated everything about the contract. Certainly, she lost all her labor rights. The deal made her sick, stole everything she deserved. Stuck at The Zenith for a whole fucking year, a slave with a smile. You should've seen the look on her face, so miserable.

Every day, she'll be forced to see my face. With each passing day, the misery I inflict will chip away at that facade of confidence she's built for herself. Her once-sharp tongue will be silenced, replaced by the bitter taste of defeat

Oh how I like a good challenge.

Sitting here I glance down at my pocket watch, the worn inscription "The Chronos" catching my eye.A gift from Mom, a relic from a time before she slipped away. It never ticked once in all those years, a constant reminder of her absence. Now, thanks to whatever the little fly did to it, the darn thing is whirring to life again. Never did understand what "The Chronos" meant, but Mom used to whisper tales of a time god from some old Greek myth. A miracle, some might say.

"The damn phone buzzed in my hand, yanking me out of my reverie. It was him, of course. With a huff that escaped my lips before I could contain it, I answered.

"Speak up Augustus".

His voice, laced with venom, cut through the line. ''No son of mine refers to me by my name...'' The words hung heavy, a stark reminder of the bond I no longer recognized. A cold anger settled in my gut. ''Call me father the next time you pick up the phone.''

My jaw clenched so hard I tasted iron.  "I'll call you whatever the hell I want to call you. Now spit it out, what do you want? Don't you dare waste another minute of my time.''

"I'm gonna let this slide, you'll find the information on your phone. Change the PA. I won't tolerate incompetence. Consider it a warning" The phone went dead in my ear, the silence thick with his dominance. I didn't even get a chance to argue.

I unlocked my phone, Zach's face filling the screen. But this wasn't the mild-mannered assistant I knew. Here, he was a whirlwind of leather, racing through a roaring arena. The crowd surged around him, their cheers a deafening wave. A grin stretched across his face, a stark contrast to his usual reserved demeanor.  He looked... carefree. Confident. A thrill seeker in a cheap, neon-lit den of illegality.  What the hell was he doing?

Scrolling down past the video, I found a message from Augustus. "Your boy Zach's been moonlighting as a racer. He's at it again tonight. Handle it, or I will."