thespillnetwork
Mar 28, 2026

THE ARROGANT HEIR SHUT DOWN A GARDENER... THEN THE LAWYER BOWED DEEPLY

The crisp, sweet scent of crushed white roses filled the humid air of the estate’s grand courtyard. Old Man Phuc sat on the gravel walkway, his worn canvas trousers stained with damp earth and his trembling hands covered in thorny scrapes. Around him, dozens of perfectly cultivated blossoms lay trampled under the pristine leather loafers of the young master, Bao.

"Get your wrinkled face out of my sight," Bao sneered, deliberately kicking a wooden gardening crate into the fountain. He looked back at his group of wealthy, silk-shirted friends, who were snickering into their crystal cocktail glasses. "My father pays you to trim the hedges, not to clutter up the walkway while I’m hosting. You’re an eyesore. Pack your cheap tools and get off my property by sunset."

The estate staff—the cooks, the drivers, the housekeepers—stood rigidly along the periphery of the courtyard, their eyes fixed firmly on the ground. No one dared to breathe. Bao had ruled this multi-million-dollar mansion like a tyrant since he turned twenty-one, using his family’s immense corporate empire to crush anyone who dared to glance at him the wrong way.

Old Man Phuc didn't yell. He didn't even look angry. He slowly gathered his rusted pruning shears from the dirt, his weathered face entirely calm as he wiped a smear of mud from his forehead.

"Young man," Phuc said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that possessed a strange, unsettling stillness. "Your father never taught you how to speak to the people who tend to your roots."

"My father is the chairman of the entire Alpha Group!" Bao shouted, his face reddening as he took a threatening step forward, his shadow falling over the old man. "He doesn't have roots here. He owns this dirt, and he owns you!"

Before Bao could signal his private security to drag the gardener away, the heavy iron gates of the estate shrieked open.

A black Mercedes-Maybach tore up the cobblestone driveway, screeching to a halt right next to the fountain. The door flew open, and Mr. Khang—the most powerful corporate lawyer in the capital and the chief legal counsel for the entire family—burst out of the vehicle. He was clutching a thick, leather-bound folder, his face pale and slick with sweat.

"Bao!" Khang called out, his voice cracking with immense panic as he sprinted across the lawn, bypassing the young heir entirely.

Bao smirked, adjusting the collar of his designer shirt. "Ah, Mr. Khang. Perfect timing. Tell this old trash that he's officially—"

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