Chapter 224: Entitled Brat

Chapter 224: Chapter 224: Entitled Brat

The high-jewelry salon was bathed in warm, directional spotlights that made every glass display case shimmer like crushed ice. Martha stood near a velvet pedestal, examining a delicate platinum chain, while Catharine leaned in beside her, offering gentle suggestions on the cut of the stone.

Aliya, meanwhile, was leaning against a polished pillar a few paces back, casually reviewing raw footage on her tablet and humming a tune. The sleek, unmapped black Sovereign card was tucked securely into her coat pocket, its quiet weight a subtle reminder of the limitless backing behind them.

As Catharine turned to inspect a glass display featuring raw blue sapphires, a shadow fell across the counter.

"You know, sapphire blue is a difficult color to pull off," a smooth, rehearsed voice chimed in from her right. "It requires a certain level of natural poise. But on you, it looks entirely effortless."

Catharine blinked, taking a half-step back as a man in a tailored navy blazer stepped into her personal space. He looked to be around twenty-seven, his hair slicked back with heavy gel, wearing an oversized luxury Swiss watch that he conspicuously adjusted as he rested one hand on the display glass. His smirk carried the practiced, lazy confidence of someone who had never been told "no" a day in his life.

"Excuse me?" Catharine said, keeping her tone polite but instantly distant.

The young man chuckled, taking another half-step closer, completely ignoring her body language. "I’m Sam. Sam Newman."

He paused, tilting his chin slightly and expanding his chest, clearly waiting for the flicker of recognition or nervous awe that usually followed his arrival.

’Newman?’ Catharine thought, her expression remaining entirely flat. Her mind instantly ran through the corporate hierarchies she had studied at the university. ’A second-tier industrial family. Heavy in regional manufacturing and real estate... on par with where the Livingstons were before their logistics merger.’

When neither Catharine nor Martha showed the slightest hint of intimidation, Sam’s smile twitched slightly. He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers against the display case. "Newman. As in Newman Enterprise Group? My father sits on the regional trade board."

’Is he waiting for an apology?’ Martha thought, looking at the young man with mild, motherly amusement. ’He looks like he expects us to curtsy.’

Aliya stepped smoothly between Sam and Catharine, crossing her arms and looking him up and down with an unbothered, amused smirk. "Cool story, Sam. But we’re actually in the middle of shopping, so if you’re done reading us your dad’s resume, you can move along."

Sam’s eyes widened in genuine disbelief. ’Do these women have any idea who they’re talking to?’ he thought, a surge of irritation spiking through him. At twenty-seven, Sam was the youngest of three brothers—the notorious black sheep of the Newman family who spent his days blowing through his allowance on high-end clubs, fast cars, and day-drinking at luxury malls.

He looked closely at their attire. Martha wore a simple cardigan over a modest blouse; Catharine wore an unbranded linen top, and Aliya was dressed in casual boots and an oversized jacket. *They must be out-of-towners. They probably don’t even know the provincial hierarchy.*

"Listen, little girl," Sam said, his voice dropping into a condescending register as he tried to reassert control. "I was offering your friend a courtesy. In this city, knowing a Newman means access to private clubs, high-end reservations, and doors that stay locked to ordinary people."

By now, a few shoppers and sales associates in the adjacent aisles had paused, turning their heads toward the low-key commotion.

"Is that Sam Newman?" a young woman near the pearl display whispered to her companion. "Yeah, the youngest son. He doesn’t work anywhere, just parties on his family’s credit line."

Hearing his name spoken aloud, Sam’s arrogant smirk returned. He crossed his arms, leaning slightly toward Aliya. ’Now they hear it. Now they realize what kind of weight stands behind me.’

"You hear that?" Sam said softly, his voice dripping with entitlement. "That’s the sound of reality. So, if you’d like to rethink your tone—"

"Are you done?" Aliya interrupted, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder she didn’t strain them. "You’re standing here boasting about what your ’father’ built. What have ’you’ actually done, Sam? Aside from hanging out in shopping malls at two in the afternoon using your family’s name as a pickup line?"

Sam froze. The air seemed to lock in his chest. ’What did she just say to me?!’ His mind scrambled for a comeback, but the blunt accuracy of the insult struck him directly where his ego was most fragile. Everyone in Veyra’s high-society circles knew he was a good-for-nothing parasite living off his older brothers’ achievements, but no one had ever dared say it to his face in public.

"You..." Sam stammered, his face flushing a bright, furious crimson as he caught two sales associates hiding smiles behind the service desk. "You have no idea who you’re dealing with! You think you can humiliate me in public and just walk away?!"

"We didn’t humiliate you, Sam," Catharine said calmly, stepping forward beside Aliya. "You did that all by yourself. Please leave us alone."

"You’re going to regret this," Sam spat, his jaw clenching so hard a vein throbbed along his temple. "All three of you!"

He turned sharply on his heel, storming out of the boutique with fast, rigid strides, his hands balled into tight fists.

Martha let out a long, quiet sigh, turning to Aliya with a gentle frown. "Aliya, sweetie, you were a bit too sharp with him. You could have just let the associate guide him out without making a whole scene."

"Mom, guys like that don’t listen to polite declines," Aliya replied, casually re-adjusting her tablet in her tote bag. "If you don’t shut them down hard, they just keep hovering. Besides, he was annoying Cath."

"It’s fine, Martha," Catharine said with a reassuring smile, though her eyes darted briefly toward the boutique’s entrance. "He’s just an entitled trust-fund brat with no manners."

---

Twenty minutes later, the trio finalized their purchases. A white-glove courier service took charge of the heavy luxury bags, leaving the three women free to walk down the quiet corridor toward the VIP parking garage elevators.

Unbeknownst to them, two floors up, Sam Newman was standing by the polished glass railing, clutching a half-empty espresso cup and watching their progress down the escalators. Beside him stood two broad-shouldered men in designer athletic gear—Bale and Julian, two off-duty gym trainers who frequently drank with him at private lounges.

"Those are the three?" Bale asked, cracking his knuckles with a dull, thumping grin. "They don’t look like much, Sam. You sure they aren’t backed by anyone important?"

"I checked the valet log through a guy I know," Sam hissed, his eyes burning with toxic, unyielding humiliation. ’No nobody makes a fool out of me in public. No one.’ "They came in a single unbadged executive SUV. No private security team, no motorcade, nothing. They’re just some suburban family playing dress-up with a high credit limit. We’re going to block their car, scare them a bit, and make that loudmouthed girl get on her knees and apologize before they leave this garage."

Down in the concrete basement garage, the ambient noise shifted from the quiet air-conditioning of the mall to the low, hollow hum of idling exhaust pipes and echoing footfalls.

Martha, Catharine, and Aliya walked down the lit pedestrian aisle toward their black executive SUV.

"That was wonderful, girls," Martha said softly, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself against the draft. "Though I still think Jake is going to look at the bank account and double-check the numbers."

"Trust me, Mom," Aliya chuckled, "Jake won’t even—"

"Well, well. Look who decided to come down to the dark floor."

The sharp, echoing voice cut through the cavernous space.

Sam stepped out from behind a concrete support pillar, directly blocking the path to their SUV. Beside him, Bale and Julian stepped out from the adjacent parking bay, spreading out to cut off their sides.

Martha gasped softly, instinctively taking a step back and pulling Aliya slightly behind her. Catharine’s posture instantly went rigid, her eyes narrowing as she calculated the distance between them and the vehicle door.

Sam took two slow, menacing steps forward, a twisted, vengeful grin plastered across his face. He gestured to his two companions, then glared straight at Aliya.

"Not so talkative now, are you?" Sam sneered, his tone thick with petty malice. "Where’s that loud mouth from the jewelry store? Why don’t you tell me again how the Newman family isn’t special?"

Aliya didn’t flinch. She looked at Sam, then glanced at Bale and Julian, let out a loud, mocking scoff, and shook her head in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now?" Aliya said, her voice echoing clearly off the concrete walls. "You actually went and brought backup because a girl hurt your feelings? Wow, Sam. The ’mighty Newman family’ really needs three grown men to corner three women in a parking garage? That’s beyond embarrassing."

Sam’s smirk instantly shattered into pure rage. "Shut up! Grab her! Let’s see how cocky she is when we wreck that pretty little face!"

Bale stepped forward aggressively, reaching his broad, calloused hand out to grab Aliya by her coat collar.

’Now,’ Aliya thought, her heart racing with adrenaline, but completely devoid of panic.

Before Bale’s fingers could even brush the fabric of Aliya’s coat, a blur of motion materialized from behind the adjacent pillar.

A heavy, leather-gloved hand shot out like a steel clamp, catching Bale’s wrist mid-air. Before Bale could process what was happening, Kovacs stepped into his leverage, wrenching the larger man’s arm downward and driving a sharp knee straight into his ribs. Bale let out a choked groan, collapsing onto the concrete, gasping for air as Kovacs pinned his arm behind his back with effortless weight.

At the exact same time, Sarah dropped seamlessly from between two parked sedans.

Before Julian could react to the sudden ambush, Sarah executed a precise, brutal palm strike directly into his chin, knocking his head back, followed by an aggressive sweep to his leg. Julian hit the hard floor with a heavy ’crack’, groaning in pain as Sarah stepped onto his wrist, disarming a heavy brass knuckle set he had been trying to slip over his fingers.

Kovacs, standing six-foot-four in his dark tactical suit, casually maintained his crushing hold on Bale, looking over at Sam with completely dead, emotionless eyes.

"Threat suppressed," Kovacs said flatly.

Thirty yards away, hidden inside the darkened cab of a parked utility van, Ben—Catharine’s assigned personal bodyguard—slowly rested his hand back on his lap.

’Clean, low-profile intervention,’ Ben noted mentally, maintaining a sharp visual scan of the garage exit. ’No additional hostiles. Perimeter clean.’ He remained hidden in the shadows, adhering strictly to his orders to stay unseen unless absolutely necessary.

Sam stood frozen in place, his face draining of all color as he stared at his two hired muscle-heads whimpering on the grease-stained concrete in under three seconds flat.

"W-What... who are you people?!" Sam stammered, his body shaking violently as he backed up until his shoulder slammed against a concrete pillar. "Do you have any idea who I am?! I am Sam Newman! My father will destroy you! He’ll destroy your entire security company!"

Aliya stepped forward, walking right up to the trembling twenty-seven-year-old. She leaned in slightly, looking at him with an expression of quiet, absolute disgust.

"Your father isn’t going to do anything, Sam," Aliya said coolly. "Because if he finds out his good-for-nothing son got caught ambushing women in a parking garage, he’ll cut off your allowance for good."

She turned back toward Martha and Catharine, offering a calm, reassuring smile. "Come on, Mom. Cath. Let’s get in the car."

Martha released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, stepping toward the SUV while Catharine offered Kovacs and Sarah a subtle, grateful nod.

As the executive SUV started its engine and smoothly pulled away toward the ramp, Sam remained slumped against the pillar. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, but instead of fear, a toxic, burning rage consumed his thoughts.

’They made me look like an idiot... again!’ Sam thought, his teeth grinding as he glared at the vanishing red taillights. His chest heaved with humiliation, his hands trembling with unrefined malice. ’I don’t care who those bodyguards belong to. Nobody treats me like a nobody. I’m going to find out who that girl is, and I’m going to ruin her.’

---