Chapter 6 - The Trap is Sprung
The color completely drained from Victor’s face. He looked like a man who had just stepped off a cliff and was waiting to hit the ground.
"You... you accessed the Caymans accounts?" Victor stammered, his voice shrinking into a pathetic squeak.
"I built this company from the ground up," Arthur said, taking a slow, deliberate step toward the man who had ruined his life. "I knew every hidden door, every financial backchannel, and every secret ledger. When you stole it from me, you were too arrogant to change the architecture. You just changed the passwords. It took me a long time, Victor. A long time living in the cold. But I found every single dime you embezzled from the employee pension fund."
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second. The blue and red flashing lights began to reflect off the large glass windows of the salon, washing over Victor’s terrified face.
Victor looked at his security guards. "Get me out of here," he ordered frantically.
The guards looked at the flashing police lights, then looked at Judge Vance, and calmly stepped aside, refusing to go down with a sinking ship.
"It's over, Victor," Arthur said, his voice dropping to a somber, definitive tone. "You traded your soul for money, and now you have neither."
Three police officers pushed through the salon doors. They didn't ask questions. They walked directly to Victor, grabbed him by the arms of his expensive suit, and slapped cold steel handcuffs around his wrists.
"Arthur! You can't do this!" Victor screamed as they dragged him toward the door. "I made this company a global brand! You were nothing but a guy with scissors! I made you rich!"
"You made me a prisoner," Arthur replied quietly, watching his betrayer being hauled away into the flashing lights. "Today, I set myself free."
As the doors closed behind the police, the salon fell into a stunned, deafening silence. The wealthy clients were speechless. Trent, the manager, looked as though he was going to vomit. Chloe was sobbing loudly into her hands.
Arthur turned around slowly, looking at the staff. He looked at Trent, whose bullying demeanor had completely evaporated.
"Trent. Chloe," Arthur said, his voice calm but icy. "Clean out your lockers. You have ten minutes to leave my property before I have you arrested for trespassing."
Trent didn't argue. He practically sprinted toward the back room, followed closely by a weeping Chloe.
Arthur let out a long, heavy sigh. The tension of twenty years slowly drained from his shoulders. He looked down at his dirty, worn coat, and then he looked up at Leo.
Leo was still standing by his station, holding the scissors, looking at Arthur with wide, reverent eyes.
Arthur walked over to the young barber. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the crumpled, rejected one-dollar bill, and held it out.
"You treated a man with nothing like he was a king," Arthur said softly, a warm smile breaking through his serious facade. "You have the heart of a true master, Leo."
"Thank you, Mr. Pendelton," Leo stammered.
"No," Arthur corrected. "Call me Arthur. Because we have a lot of work to do to get this place back to standard. Tell me, Leo... how would you like to be the new General Manager of L’Élégance?"
Leo’s jaw dropped. The other stylists gasped in shock and excitement.
May you like
Arthur sat back down in the barber chair, looking at his clean, dignified reflection in the mirror. "Now," Arthur smiled. "I believe we were in the middle of a haircut."
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