— “Yeah, word is he’s the primary owner of the whole group.”
The news spread like wildfire, from the kitchen to the laundry room. No one could quite believe it. Could that humble man in the old jacket really be the owner of such a luxury empire?
At exactly 10:30 AM, the atmosphere in the lobby shifted. Through the revolving doors walked Michael Lewis. This time, he wasn’t alone. Beside him was a sharp-looking attorney in a charcoal suit, carrying a leather briefcase.
Every eye in the room turned toward them. The security guards stood at attention, the receptionists froze, and the servers stopped mid-stride. The man they had mocked yesterday was walking in like he owned the place—because he did.
Michael gestured to a staff member with a firm, commanding air:
— “Get the manager. Now.”
The softness was gone. His voice held the steady weight of a man used to being obeyed. A moment later, Victor stepped out of his office.
He looked nervous, adjusting his tie, but he still tried to maintain his smug facade. He forced a smile:
— “Oh, you’re back? Are we going to have another scene?”
Michael met his gaze with a look that could freeze water. He said icily:
— “Victor, I told you yesterday there would be consequences. That time has come.”
Victor felt a chill run down his spine, but he tried to laugh it off. The attorney stepped forward and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a folder with official seals and laid it on the counter for everyone to see.
He announced loudly:
— “These documents confirm that Michael Lewis holds a sixty-five percent stake in this property and the land it sits on. He is the sole controlling owner.”
The staff stood paralyzed. Paula’s hands shook as she turned pale. The guests in the lobby exchanged shocked glances:
— “He really is the owner! The manager made a massive mistake.”
Michael tapped his cane on the marble floor, his voice echoing through the hall:
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