The Wrath of Jordan Jefferson

"Leave me alone, please! I said leave me alone!" the girl screamed.

Her voice sliced through the evening air like a blade. Jordan Jefferson paused, one foot already halfway onto the narrow path that curved around the hills.

He turned slowly, brows furrowed. He had heard the fear. It wasn't just a quarrel, but something like oppressive fight.

The road from the market was long, dusty, and half-empty, as usual, though not far from the Bennett mansion. Jordan preferred it that way. He had always liked walking home alone, it helped him clear his head, especially after the kind of day he just had.

The weight of the groceries in his hands didn't matter. What mattered was the peace. But this evening, that peace vanished the moment he heard that cry.

He dropped the two heavy bags at his feet and rushed ahead.

He was tall and well-built. His giant height often betrayed his 26-years of age.

Just a few metres away, by the edge of the bend, he saw her. A young lady, cornered. Her scarf had been pulled halfway off her head, her arms hugging her chest as she stood trapped between three men-thugs, clearly.

One of them had a crooked smile, the kind that meant trouble. Another was chewing gum like he had no worries in the world. The third? He just looked like he was ready to pounce.

Jordan didn't think twice.

"Hey!" he shouted. "What do you think you're doing? Let her go!"

The tallest of the men turned to him slowly, squinting. "Guy, face your front," he warned coldly. "This matter doesn't concern you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jordan said, his voice calm but firm. "I said let her go."

The second thug stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "You must be very foolish."

But as he moved, his eyes caught something.

He stopped abruptly, narrowing his gaze at Jordan's neck. There, beside his collarbone, something showed, it was faint, but visible enough in the fading light.

The man froze.

"Wait... He has the mark!" he shouted, panicked. "He's one of them!"

The third thug leaned forward, squinting. As soon as he saw it, his face changed.

"Let's go!" he barked. "Let's get the fuck out of here now!"

Within seconds, all three of them had taken off, disappearing through the trees like their lives depended on it.

Jordan just stood there, stunned.

The girl, still trembling, turned to him slowly. Her eyes darted to the side of his neck, and she took a step back.

"You-what are you?" she whispered.

"I should be asking you that," Jordan replied, confused. "Why were they scared? What's this about a mark?"

She swallowed, eyes wide. "That mark... it belongs to a group. I don't know exactly, but they're the most powerful and feared people in New York."

Before he could ask another question, she turned and bolted down the path, her scarf falling behind her.

Jordan stared after her, lost.

He raised a hand to his neck and touched the small birthmark that had always been there. A curved line, almost like a crescent moon. He had always thought it was just a mark, nothing serious.

He sighed, bent to pick up the groceries, and continued the walk home.

Maybe these people were just strange.

Or maybe... there was something he didn't understand.

**************

Thirteen years ago, Jordan woke up in a hospital bed with tubes in his arms and pain in every part of his body. He had nothing, no memory, and no clue what had happened. The only thing he remembered was his name – Jordan. And that was strange. The doctors told him he had survived a terrible car crash. He was the only one pulled out alive.

Everyone else in the vehicle had died.

It was Ezra Bennett, the patriarch of the Bennett family, who found him. Ezra had seen the wreck with his own eyes, stopped his car, and helped get Jordan out. He waited at the hospital. He paid the bills. And when no family came forward, Ezra brought him home.

He treated Jordan like a son.

He gave him a name. Sponsored his education. Sent him to the university. Paid for everything.

Jordan studied Business Administration and graduated with good grades. After his internship program, Ezra encouraged him to work at Bennett Industries-their family company. But more than that, Ezra arranged for him to marry his daughter, Zoe.

It was meant to secure Jordan's place in the family.

Jordan, with no memory of any past life, accepted. He thought maybe this was his second chance.

But he didn't know what he was walking into.

Zoe Bennett never wanted him not to talk of marrying him. She only agreed to marry him because she didn't want to disobey her father or most importantly lose her inheritance. Her mother, Esther Bennett, hated him even more. From the day he stepped into that house as a son-in-law, they made it clear to him that he can never be part of them.

Now, with Ezra ageing and no longer active in the company, Jordan had become a glorified servant in the very house where he once ate at the table.

***************************

As he pushed the gate open that evening and stepped into the massive compound, Esther's voice cut through the air before he could even take two steps forward.

"So you still have the boldness to return, Jordan?"

Jordan looked up. Esther stood at the entrance with her arms folded across her chest. She was dressed in her usual all-black gown, her face hard and emotionless.

"I went to the market. There were delays-"

Before he could finish, she marched down the steps and slapped him hard across the face.

"You dare speak back at me?"

Jordan held his cheek in silence. He didn't move.

"For that nonsense, you will not eat anything in this house for the next twenty-four hours. In fact, until I say so. And after you're done cooking, go and wash the cars. All of them."

She didn't wait for a reply.

She turned and walked back into the house.

Jordan bent down, picked the scattered groceries, and walked to the kitchen. The chef looked up as he entered, but no one said anything. They had all learned how things worked in the house.

Jordan rolled up his sleeves and joined him quietly.

He had once worked at Bennett Industries, reporting to the Board and attending high-level meetings. But now? He had been demoted to work in the kitchen – he chopped onions, washed dishes, and swept the corridors.

When Ezra asked why he no longer went to the office, Jordan lied out of fear.

"I feel more useful here, sir," he said softly.

Ezra had stared at him for a long moment but didn't press further.

But now that Ezra barely came downstairs, the others took every chance to reduce him. To remind him he was just a man who had no history.

Later that evening, as darkness fell and the air cooled, Jordan stood at the garage, scrubbing the tyres of the last car. His shirt clung to his back, soaked in sweat. His hands were blistered. The compound was quiet, except for the sound of his sponge against the metal.

Suddenly, headlights flashed at the gate. The security guard opened quickly. A black car drove in, it was Ezra and Zoe. They had gone out for the evening, as usual.

As the car parked, Ezra stepped down first.

He looked around slowly, then saw Jordan kneeling in front of one of the cars with a bucket.

He frowned. "Where are the other workers?" he asked.

Jordan opened his mouth to speak, but Esther appeared beside them almost immediately.

"He dismissed them," she said quickly. "He said they weren't good enough."

Ezra looked at Jordan, then back at Esther.

He said nothing. Just shook his head slowly and walked towards the house.

Zoe lingered behind.

She approached Jordan, eyes cold and unfeeling.

"You think doing all this will make my father keep loving you?" she asked, her voice laced with contempt. "You've been pretending for years, but I see through you."

Jordan didn't respond. He continued washing the side mirror.

"You're just a poor boy who got lucky. And you'll always be that. My father may not see it, but I do."

Jordan looked up at her quietly. For a second, his eyes met hers but he said nothing.

Just then, a sudden gasp came from the stairs.

They turned quickly.

Ezra was holding his chest, his face pale.

"Daddy!" Zoe shouted.

Esther screamed. "Ezra!"

He stumbled and fell, groaning in pain. He couldn't lift himself up. His breathing was heavy. One hand clutched his chest tightly as his legs gave way.

Zoe ran to him. "Somebody call the hospital!"

Guards rushed forward. The driver joined. Esther knelt beside him in panic.

Jordan remained where he was, frozen, his sponge still in hand.

The man who saved him... the man who gave him everything... was being lifted into the house, gasping for breath.

"Ezra Bennett in critical condition!"

The headlines had barely hit the airwaves before they spread across New York like dry leaves catching fire. Every major news station, every gossip blog, even business analysts began whispering predictions.

Bennett Industries might never remain the same again.

Back at the mansion, the atmosphere was far from sorrowful. Esther Bennett sat on the arm of the grand leather chair in the sitting room, sipping freshly brewed tea. Her eyes didn't show worry. In fact, they glistened with something clearly as an opportunity for her.

She tried to keep her expression flat for Zoe's sake, but her mind was already travelling fast; bank accounts, properties, the shares in Ezra's name. Her heartbeat quickened not from concern, but from excitement. With Ezra finally out of the way, she would step in fully as the matriarch. His absence meant space-space to seize control, space to get her hands on everything he'd once shielded from her.

She took another sip and allowed herself a small, tight smile.

Zoe, however, was not smiling. She paced the living room slowly, her shoes making soft sounds on the marble floor.

Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, but the confidence she usually wore like perfume had started to crack.

Her father was many things-a force, a protector, a shield against boardroom storms. But now, with him in a hospital bed, the reality was beginning to settle like cold water in her bones.

Without him, everything could fall apart.

She wasn't worried about his health in the way most daughters would be. Her panic came from the looming fear that the company, Bennett Industries, might slip through her fingers. Investors would panic, business partners would question her capability, and the media? They would rip her apart.

For the first time in her life, Zoe felt powerless.

In all this chaos, Jordan said nothing.

He was outside, finishing the last of the cars he couldn't wash the night before. The mop in his hand moved slowly over the roof of the black SUV, but his mind wasn't really on the task. The news of Ezra's collapse had hit him harder than anyone in that house could imagine.

To them, Ezra was a man to impress or exploit.

But to Jordan, Ezra was the only person who ever gave him something close to family.

He had saved him from nothingness. Given him a name, a life, a chance.

As Jordan wiped the last window, he heard the front door open.

"Jordan!" Esther's voice rang out like a bell with no warmth.

He turned and stood still.

"We're heading to the hospital," she said, her voice sharp as always. "Before I return, make sure this entire house is clean. And go into my room, pick the clothes I dropped on the bed, and wash them. Not a single one should remain dirty by the time I come back."

Jordan nodded once. He didn't trust himself to speak.

************************

At the hospital, the air was heavy. Machines beeped softly around Ezra's bed. His face was pale, his lips dry. Tubes ran across his arms and chest, and nurses moved quietly in and out of the room.

Zoe stood by the window with her arms folded. Esther sat stiffly at the edge of the chair beside the bed, her handbag clutched tightly.

Ezra's eyes opened slowly. His gaze swept the room. When he didn't see Jordan, his heart dropped.

In the past, no matter how tired or unnoticed, it was Jordan who came to sit with him. Jordan who brought soup in a flask. Jordan who asked if he needed an extra pillow. Jordan who stayed even when he wasn't asked.

Now, Ezra's lips moved.

"Where... is Jordan?" he whispered.

Zoe froze. Her back straightened.

"He's... he's occupied at home," she replied, quickly forcing a smile. "We didn't want to stress him."

Ezra turned his eyes to her. The sharpness in his gaze returned, even if just for a second. He knew she was lying.

"Call him," he said, firmer this time. "Now. Both of you... treat him like the human being that he is. That boy means more to this family than either of you have ever tried to understand."

Esther was just about to grumble something under her breath when the door creaked open.

Jordan stepped in quietly.

His eyes scanned the room, then landed on the hospital bed.

He had never seen Ezra like this. Not weak. Not surrounded by tubes. Not fighting for breath. His throat tightened as he approached, slowly, uncertain.

Esther opened her mouth, clearly about to scold him for leaving the chores unfinished, but she held back. Something in Jordan's face warned her this wasn't the time.

Ezra's eyes lit up the moment he saw him.

He shifted. His arms moved. In a strength that shocked everyone, he pushed himself upright, the machines beeping in protest.

"Sir, wait!" the nurse cried, rushing forward.

But Ezra was already sitting up, staring directly at Jordan with a kind of fire no one expected from a man who was half-dead just moments ago.

"Please..." Ezra said, waving Esther and Zoe off with a tired hand. "Give us a moment."

Zoe hesitated. Esther opened her mouth to argue, but one stern look from Ezra silenced them both. They stepped out quietly.

Jordan walked closer. His heart beating faster than normal.

The man lying before him had given him everything. And now he looked so... close to the end.

Ezra reached for his hand.

"Jordan," he whispered, his voice soft but sure. "I don't know how long I have. But there's something I need to say before it's too late."

Jordan's eyes stung.

"Don't say that, sir-"

"No, let me finish," Ezra said gently. "All my life, I've built this company, this legacy. I've poured everything into it. But the only person who has ever been loyal to me, without asking for anything... is you."

Jordan stood still, trembling.

"I want you to take over my company, Jordan. Every single asset I have. When I'm gone... I want it all to be yours. Would you do me the favour to accept this offer?"

The room went silent, except for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

Jordan's chest tightened.

He stared at Ezra, unsure if he had heard him well. The hospital room was silent, except for the steady beep of the heart monitor beside the bed.

The old man's words echoed again in his mind like a bell

Jordan swallowed hard, slowly lowering his gaze. His fingers clenched against his trousers as he remained kneeling by the bed. A storm of confusion and disbelief gathered inside him.

"Sir..." he said in a quiet, trembling voice. "Please, don't talk like that. I'm not the one. I... I just want you to get better. That's all I pray for every day. I just want you to regain your strength."

Ezra didn't smile. He didn't even blink.

Instead, his eyes, tired but full of knowing, rested steadily on the young man beside him.

"No, Jordan," he said, his voice now firmer. "You are the one."

Jordan looked up, startled.

Ezra adjusted himself on the bed, ignoring the nurse's earlier warning to rest. There was something urgent in the way he spoke now, something deep, almost like a man trying to pass on his final truth.

"You think I joined you and Zoe in marriage by coincidence? You think I didn't know what I was doing?" he asked, looking straight into Jordan's eyes. "From the very day I pulled you out of that wrecked car, I saw something in you... something rare."

Jordan remained quiet.

Ezra continued. "You had nothing, just your name. But you had a quiet strength. A calm presence. There was power in you, Jordan. Untapped. Untrained. But it was there. And I knew... I knew you were meant for more."

Tears gathered in Jordan's eyes. He had never been spoken to like this in his entire life.

"I've built Bennett Industries with my bare hands," Ezra went on. "But it is not blood alone that keeps a legacy. It is vision, Jordan. It is character. Heart. Grit. That's what this family needs now. And you... you carry those things inside you."

Jordan shook his head gently, eyes still wet.

"I'm not special, sir," he whispered. "I'm just a man who's trying to repay the only person that ever helped him. You gave me a life. And that's why I stayed."

Ezra reached out his hand and touched the side of Jordan's neck.

His fingers lingered there, on the curved mark that had always puzzled them both.

Jordan looked at him, a question sitting heavily on his tongue. "Sir, this mark... does it mean anything? Does it have to do with... with my real family?"

Ezra hesitated.

For the first time since they began talking, his eyes shifted away briefly. His fingers dropped from the mark and rested weakly on the sheet.

"You will know in due time," he said slowly. "When that time comes, son, remember this, you are my son. No matter what anyone tells you, or what you find. I love you."

That left Jordan speechless.

He didn't know what to feel. Gratitude? Fear? Hope?

Everything was tangled inside him like thread. Ezra said nothing more. He simply closed his eyes again, as if even that short conversation had drained his strength.

***************************

Back at the Bennett mansion, Esther and Zoe sat in the study with the doors firmly closed.

Their voices were low, but their faces carried tension.

"I don't like the way your father looked at him today," Esther muttered, her arms crossed tightly. "It's no longer just gratitude. There's something more than we may have imagined."

Zoe looked troubled. "Mum, do you really think he'll hand things over to Jordan?"

"I think he already has it in mind, if not on papers on yet," Esther said. "And if that happens, everything we've worked for... gone. Just like that. To a nobody."

Zoe got up and walked to the window, peeking through the curtain. The house was quiet, but something about the silence felt threatening.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

Esther stood up too. "You'll stay at the company. Keep your position firm. I'll begin calling some of your father's relatives. The ones who still have a say. We'll gather support."

Zoe nodded slowly, but her eyes still looked unsure.

Esther paused, looked around the room carefully, as if to confirm no one was listening. Then she leaned close to her daughter's ear and whispered something too low for anyone else to hear.

Zoe's eyes widened in shock.

"Mum, are you sure?"

Esther didn't answer, but nodded in assurance.