Megan stopped just a few feet from Adam, the ground beneath his boots still faintly cracking from the force of his aura. Adam stood with his hands calmly folded behind his back, the very picture of composure.With a smirk tugging at his lips, Megan said arrogantly, “Don’t blame me for not giving you a chance. If you let Mr. Damon go now and beg for forgiveness, I might consider leaving your corpse intact.”Adam’s eyes narrowed slightly. His reply came, sharp and unflinching. “I’m also giving you a chance. Get on your knees, beg for mercy, and I’ll spare your life.”Gasps erupted from the crowd.“Unbelievable!”“Is this guy crazy?”“He’s talking to Megan Atla like that?!”Megan’s face twisted, red creeping into his neck as rage flared in his eyes. “You have a death wish!” he roared.“Mr. Megan!” Silas barked from the side. “This brat’s just despicable! Don’t waste your time with talk—kill him already!”Without another word, Megan charged forward.His fist clenched tightly, veins bulgin

“As expected, the Cross family has deep connections. Even the city chief is just a call away…” someone whispered.The murmurs spread like wildfire.One sentence had lit a fuse. The entire crowd stirred, eyes shifting uneasily, voices dropping to hushed tones. No one wanted to speak too loud in case someone important was listening.This wasn’t just about Silas’s arrogance anymore. It was about the raw weight of the Cross family’s influence.Troy Rothshires wasn’t some low-tier bureaucrat. He was the city chief of Storm City—a man with power that ran deeper than public titles. The man who balanced alliances with syndicates, mega-corporations, and the military, all while smiling in press photos. Even Lord Chaosbreaker bowed his head in his presence.And now? He was on his way here. Because Silas had picked up the phone.With Bulgart Industry behind him, Troy could erase a man’s name from every record in the nation before sunrise. Entire families had vanished under his watch. Court ruling

Troy was already halfway to his knees when Adam's voice cut in, sharp and low.“Don’t reveal my identity.”The command froze him mid-motion. Troy straightened just enough to keep himself from collapsing, but his face was ashen, and his legs shook uncontrollably beneath him.He had ordered Adam—given a direct command to the Supreme General. A crime punishable by death under normal circumstances. And yet, Adam had spared him.The weight of that mercy was almost more unbearable than punishment.Though he was the city chief, a man who commanded fear and respect from political and criminal empires alike, in front of Adam… he was nothing. A shadow trembling beneath a storm.Troy took a deep breath and forced himself to speak.“Other than the Cross… everyone else, out,” he said coldly.That was exactly what Adam wanted—and Troy wasn’t going to make the mistake of defying him again.Gasps filled the air. The crowd barely hesitated.Within seconds, guests scrambled toward the exit like rats fl

The crowd outside the grand Hotel buzzed like hornets stirred from their nest. Phones were raised, whispers flew like wildfire, and every pair of eyes stared toward the gilded entrance. Guests, press, and curious onlookers all lingered—waiting, hoping for a spectacle. They thought Troy Rothshires would make an example of the man who dared crash the Cross-Armand wedding. They thought it would be a quick, brutal cleanup. They were wrong. Inside the hotel, tension knotted in Tessa’s chest like a steel cable pulled taut. She stood just beyond the velvet ropes, pacing in quiet urgency, her heels clicking against marble, her heart thudding like a war drum. Her palms were clammy. Her breath shallow. Where are you, Adam? What have they done to you? Though her marriage to him had started as a cold transaction—a deal to preserve her family’s reputation—she couldn’t deny the truth now. Adam had risked everything for her. Again and again. And she… she had just stood by. “Don’t worry, Tessa

Once Adam and Tessa disappeared from view, Troy Rothshires exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His shoulders dropped ever so slightly, the tension still clinging to him like smoke after a fire.A nearby guard, still pale from what he’d witnessed, cautiously asked, “Mr. Rothshires… was that really the Supreme General?”Troy didn’t answer immediately. He simply adjusted his collar, then turned, his voice sharp as steel. “You think I’d kneel to a fraud? Of course that was him.”“But…” another guard piped up, brows furrowed. “I heard the Supreme General was supposed to be an old, disfigured man. Sickly even. That man looked nothing like—”Troy cut him off with a scoff. “Fools. That’s the price of believing street gossip over history.” His eyes narrowed with reverence. “The Supreme General isn’t just some warlord. He’s a myth given flesh. Medicine, strategy, disguise, martial arts—he’s mastered it all. Who’s to say what face he chooses to wear on any given day?”The guar