Under the cold, strong, relentless wind of the night, a young man in a worn, faded brown long trench coat stood before a towering stone memorial overlooking the lights of the city of Dervadia. His name was Ethan Voss. Tall and muscular, with a broad, well-trained frame, Ethan carried the quiet strength of someone who had endured years of hardship and brutal training. His sharp features and dark eyes remained calm, but beneath that composure was a wound that time had never been able to heal. He approached the memorial with a single white flower in his hand, his steps slowing as he reached the stone. His eyes settled on the name engraved at its center. Jason Voss. Ethan stood silently before it, remembering the man who had been far more than a father to him. Jason had been the person he could always depend on, the man who protected him, raised him, and stayed by his side through everything. He had been his father, protector, and greatest source of strength until the day he was

Christmas Eve had transformed the headquarters of Alexander Corporation into a magnificent display of wealth and celebration. The enormous building was covered in golden lights, while beautifully decorated Christmas trees stood throughout the grand entrance, and crystal decorations reflected the warm glow of the chandeliers across the polished marble floor. Outside, expensive cars continued arriving one after another as some of the most influential people in Dervadia gathered for the annual celebration. Inside the enormous hall, wealthy businessmen, politicians, investors, celebrities, and members of powerful families moved among one another while enjoying expensive delicacies. Their conversations filled the room with a constant murmur as they discussed business, economics, politics, investments, and matters that could affect the future of some of the most powerful institutions in Dervadia. Then Ethan walked through the entrance. His appearance immediately separated him from

Ethan's hands clenched slightly at his sides. The contempt from Diana's family burned through him—not because of pride, but because of the promise his father had made. Years of training had taught him patience. After the deep thought, Diana concluded that the marriage contract was fake, and she noticed the slight movement of Ethan's hands and narrowed her eyes. “You need to leave,” she said firmly, staring at him with clear disgust. “This contract I'm holding is nothing but a fabrication, and it has nothing to do with me or my family.” She handed the contract document back to Ethan, and he collected it and slowly relaxed his hands before looking directly at her. “I have already explained why I am here,” he said calmly. “You may believe this contract is a fabrication, but it was signed by our fathers. I did not create it.” Diana's expression hardened. “I don't care what you claim. You walked into our celebration dressed like this, fought our security guards, and now you're standi

Then the grand doors suddenly swung open, drawing every eye in the hall toward the entrance. Mr. Desmond stepped inside. His name alone was enough to make conversations die across the room. Even the wealthiest guests instinctively straightened when they saw him. Sonia Desmond walked beside him. The reaction from the Alexanders was immediate. Gideon and Celeste Alexander hurried forward with welcoming smiles, eager to receive the Desmond family properly. But Mr. Desmond barely acknowledged them. His attention had already settled on Ethan. He's still looking for me, Ethan realized. Mr. Desmond walked directly toward him. When he finally stopped, he gave Ethan a slight bow, leaving the surrounding guests stunned. He remembered that the young man had only told him his name was Ethan. He had never mentioned his surname. “Ethan,” he said calmly, “would you do me the honor of joining us for dinner tonight at our home?” The hall became unusually quiet. An invitation from the

On the other side of the hall, Damian Cross stood seething with rage. His cheeks still burned from Ethan's three slaps, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation consuming him from within. Every time he remembered the sound of those slaps echoing through the hall, his pride seemed to burn all over again. What made it worse was what he was witnessing now. Several young men—sons of billionaires and heirs to vast fortunes, were staring at Ethan with undisguised envy and uncertainty, as though they were beginning to realize that the man they had mocked earlier might be far more important and powerful than they had assumed. “Bastard,” Damian muttered under his breath, his fists tightening at his sides. “He must have something on them. Some kind of leverage.” Ethan, however, appeared completely unaffected by the commotion surrounding him. He calmly adjusted the cuff of his plain shirt, his expression steady and indifferent, as though the entiren hall and everything