Chapter 3 - The Weight of a Badge
Steven stood glued to the floor, watching his powerful, arrogant father grovel at the feet of a man dressed like a beggar.
"Father, what are you doing?" Steven whispered, his voice cracking with pure terror as his illusion of control shattered into dust.
"Shut your mouth, Steven!" Gerald shrieked, his voice laced with absolute panic and fury.
"You are looking at the founder and primary shareholder of this entire international aviation hub!"
Ethan looked up in complete bewilderment, his hands still gently holding Harold’s arm to keep the elderly billionaire stable.
He was just a nineteen-year-old worker making minimum wage to pay off his younger sister's medical bills in South Boston.
"Mr. Grant, please allow our medical team to assist you to the VIP lounge," Gerald begged, gesturing frantically to the paramedics rushing over.
"We can have a private ambulance waiting at the tarmac within three minutes, sir!"
Harold gently raised a slender, weathered hand, halting the approaching paramedics in their tracks.
He leaned on Ethan’s shoulder, using the young janitor’s strength to slowly push himself up from the hard tile floor.
"I don't need your VIP lounge, Gerald," Harold said, his blue eyes flashing like cold steel beneath his bushy gray eyebrows.
"I came to this terminal incognito to evaluate the multi-million-dollar customer service overhaul I funded six months ago."
"And what I found was a young man being threatened with termination simply for showing basic human mercy to a falling senior."
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Gerald snapped his head around toward his son, his eyes burning with a terrifying mixture of rage and desperation.
"Steven... what did you do?" Gerald growled through clenched teeth.
