Free Web NovelChapter 31: Chapter 30 Snack Man’s Princess
I spent the entire night waiting for Laziel Monroe to break my door down.
I didn’t sleep. I just sat on the edge of the mattress with my ears strained toward the hallway, waiting for footsteps, the shouting, or the guards coming to throw me into the back of a black van for stealing his file.
But the punishment never came.
When morning hit, the house was completely quiet. I walked down to the kitchen with my shoulders tense, expecting an ambush, but Mrs. Greco just smiled and handed me a plate of pancakes. The maids nodded politely. The drivers outside tipped their hats. Nobody treated me like a thief who had tried to escape five hours ago.
The normal routine made me feel completely losing my mind. Did the cold-blooded bastard actually believe my lie, or was he just twisting the knife by making me sweat?
By nine, I was trailing two steps behind him through the glass lobby of Monroe Holdings, hauling a stack of folders so high I could barely see past my nose.
There were hundreds of employees in tailored suits moving like ants, everyone freezing the second Laziel walked past. They looked terrified of him. Watching him slide through the crowd, I couldn’t help but think: How does a motherfucker this powerful have the time to micro-manage my life?
The second we hit the executive suite, my life became an absolute living hell.
Because Chairman Monroe was currently plugged into life-support machines at a clinic, the entire empire was losing its mind. The workload was brutal. My desk phone didn’t stop ringing for a single second. Emails were piling up faster than I could refresh the screen, and every five minutes some vice president or high-paid lawyer was sticking their head into the office saying, "Mr. Monroe needs the quarterly tax audits," or "Mr. Monroe needs the Swiss wire transfers verified."
I could barely breathe. I kept checking the clock on the desktop.
9:12.
9:28.
9:47.
My mind was completely stuck on Anastelle. It was her second day at St. Vittoria Academy, and I was stuck filling out spreadsheets for a robotic asshole who wouldn’t even acknowledge that he caught me at the gate last night.
During a two-minute bathroom break, I pulled out my phone and quickly opened the gaming app.
Nothing.
I tapped on Giulia’s profile. The little bubble where her avatar used to be was a blank gray circle. No status update. No text. Just a cold line at the top: Last seen yesterday.
My stomach completely dropped. She had ghosted. Or worse, Laziel’s people had gotten to her. Panic started crawling up my throat, but I had to shove it down because the legal team was already marching into the boardroom for the emergency succession meeting.
I grabbed my tablet, took my seat right next to Laziel at the long table, and started logging the minutes.
This was the first time I’d actually seen CEO Laziel in action, and he was a completely different brand of terrifying. Six billionaire board members and three top-tier estate lawyers were shouting over each other, arguing about moving assets before the government could freeze the old man’s voting shares.
"If Chairman Monroe dies before the new succession clause goes into effect, Helix is going to contest the will in court," one director argued, his face turning red. "The market will panic. We need to prepare for the worst-case scenario if he passes tonight."
"He hasn’t," Laziel said.
"Helix is already making calls to the European factions. He’s trying to block the transition." One said.
"Let him try," Laziel said. He simply leaned back, his gaze sweeping over the older men until the shouting died a sudden death. "My father is still breathing. Until he stops, the shares remain where I put them. If anyone on this board thinks they can leverage my brother’s desperation to weaken my position, try me. See who survives the weekend."
The directors exchanged look after look, their mouths shutting tight.
No wonder everyone feared him.
Not because he shouted.
Because he never needed to.
.....
Then. The doors opened.
An assistant from HR slipped in, her face pale as she crept toward the head of the table. She knew better than to interrupt a high-stakes emergency board meeting, but she stopped right behind Laziel’s chair anyway.
"Mr. Monroe," she murmured softly.
Laziel didn’t turn around. "What."
"Mr. Monroe... I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s St. Vittoria International Academy."
Laziel’s fingers stayed perfectly still but my pen slipped right out of my fingers.
"What about it?" he asked, not turning his head.
"They said it’s regarding Princess Anastelle," the assistant whispered, her eyes shifting briefly toward me before darting back to the floor. "The principal is on line two. She says it’s an emergency."
A collective murmur went through the board members. Princess Anastelle? The older director frowned, leaning forward. "Who
is Princess Anastelle?" he muttered to the man next to him.
"His daughter?"
"I didn’t know he had children."
"Neither did anyone."
Laziel didn’t answer them. He stood up instantly. Millions of euros were on the line in this room, yet he walked right past the lawyers without a second glance.
"Meeting adjourned," Laziel said flatly, heading for the door.
"Mr. Laziel, we haven’t settled the Swiss accounts!" one of the lawyers called out, rising from his seat.
"Then find a way to settle them before I get back," Laziel snapped, throwing the door open.
An emergency. My mind immediately painted the worst pictures—Anastelle falling from the playground, a sudden illness, or worse, Helix finding out where she was. Panic surged through my veins. I grabbed my bag, and rushed out the door right behind him, not giving a single shit about the stares from the executives behind us.
...
The
principal’s office.
When we burst through the door, my breath caught. Anastelle wasn’t crying. She wasn’t bleeding. She was sitting in a large chair that made her look tiny, her legs swinging back and forth over the carpet. On her head, tilted slightly to the left, was the diamond tiara she had insisted on wearing despite the school dress code. She was happily chewing on a chocolate chip cookie the secretary had given her.
"Mr. Monroe, Miss Brenner," the principal said quickly, rising from her desk. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We are... deeply embarrassed by the situation."
"What happened?" I demanded, rushing over to Anastelle and checking her face, her arms, her hands. She was completely fine. She even offered me a piece of her cookie.
"Your daughter had a small altercation during the morning recess," the principal explained, smoothing down her skirt. "Young Julian here pulled at her... accessory, and told her she wasn’t real royalty. He then shoved her against the bench."
Laziel walked over, his tall frame instantly dominating the office. He stood beside Anastelle’s chair, looking down at her with a completely unreadable expression.
"Did you hit him, Anastelle?" he asked.
Anastelle swallowed her cookie, pointing a crumb-covered finger at the sobbing boy. "He touched my crown, Snack Man. And he pushed my shoulder. Hard."
The principal cleared her throat, her face flushing. "Mr. Monroe, she didn’t just push him back. She punched him directly in the face. Julian’s nose might be fractured."
I froze, my jaw dropping as I looked at my daughter who couldn’t hurt a fly. "Anastelle!"
Laziel didn’t look shocked. He didn’t look angry. He just kept his eyes on her, his jaw tightening slightly in a way I had never seen before.
"Did he hit you first?" Laziel asked quietly.
Anastelle nodded solemnly. "Yes. He did."
Laziel stared at her for three long seconds. The silence in the office was thick, the principal waiting for the billionaire to demand an expulsion or issue a severe lecture. Instead, Laziel leaned down.
"Next time," he said, "aim lower. Go for the ribs."
The principal nearly choked on her own breath. "Mr. Monroe!"
"Mr. Laziel!" I shrieked, grabbing his arm. "Are you out of your mind? She’s four!"
Laziel straightened up, his eyes flicking to the principal, the barest, tilt at the corner of his lips the only sign that he was amused. "I’m joking, of course. Discipline her as you see fit."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the office, leaving me to handle the disaster. But as I looked back down at Anastelle, she was smiling proudly, swinging her legs faster.
"Snack Man says I don’t hit first," she whispered to me, leaning in close. "But I can definitely hit back."
