Damien Ross: Wrath of the Warlord Chairman

"The Martial Fortress has fallen."

The news spread across every television station in Oakland.

"Today, former Lieutenant Damien Ross walks out of Oakland Central Prison after serving seven years for rape. Once praised as the Fierce Warlord, he now returns with his honor destroyed, his name hated by the public, and all his wealth still frozen by the government."

With a loud bang, the prison gates closed behind Damien Ross.

After seven years, he was finally free. But freedom did not feel warm. It felt so cold.

Damien was one of the youngest lieutenants in the Oakland Army. Across the Seven Great Cities, people respected him as the Martial Fortress. He fought for his country, protected countless lives, and earned many medals.

Today, none of that mattered.

"There he is!"

"The rapist is out!"

Before Damien could take another step, reporters and angry citizens rushed toward him. Cameras flashed nonstop while microphones were pushed into his face.

One hit his lips hard enough to draw blood.

"Damien Ross!" a reporter shouted. "Do you regret ruining a nineteen-year-old girl's life?"

"You brought shame to the military!" another yelled.

An old man spat on Damien's boot. "You should have died in prison!"

The crowd cursed him from every direction.

Damien stood gallant.

His shoulders remained straight. His eyes calmly glanced across the crowd. He knew the truth, even if no one else believed it.

Seven years ago, someone had drugged him.

When he woke in a hotel room, a frightened young woman with torn clothes was beside him. Minutes later, the police burst in. The DNA report later proved he was guilty.

Everything had been planned; he had been framed.

Damien looked into the nearest camera.

"I was innocent seven years ago," he said calmly. "I am innocent today. Keep your cameras ready. One day, I'll expose everyone behind that lie."

The crowd laughed, as no one believed him.

Damien walked away without another word. Only three people filled his thoughts.

Laura Ocean, his elegant fiancée. His mother and his younger sister, Sharon.

They were the reason he had survived prison.

An hour later, Damien stopped before a grand villa in one of Oakland's richest neighborhoods.

A bitter smile crossed his face.

Seven years earlier, the Ocean family had been drowning in debt. Their jewelry company was on the verge of collapse until Damien invested all his military savings and helped rebuild the business. As an engagement gift, he bought this villa to remind her how much he adored her.

He stepped inside, and the house was silent. Then he heard a scratching sound.

A cleaning brush scraped across the marble floor. Damien entered the living room.

His heart sank.

A thin young woman in torn clothes knelt on the floor, scrubbing the marble with shaking hands. Her fingers were covered with blisters.

"Sharon?" His voice broke out in disbelief.

The young woman froze.

Slowly, she looked up. The moment she saw him, tears filled her eyes.

"Brother... Damien."

She dropped the brush and rushed toward him. A sharp high heel thudded onto the floor in front of her hand.

Sharon cried out and quickly pulled back.

"Who told you to stop working?"

Damien looked toward the staircase.

Laura Ocean slowly walked down in an expensive silk dress. The woman he had loved for years now looked at him with cold eyes.

Behind her stood Lady Mariam Ocean, her mother, wearing the smile of someone looking at trash.

Damien looked from Laura to Sharon.

His chest tightened.

"Laura," he asked quietly, "what happened?”

Laura let out a cold laugh.

"What happened?" she said. "You spent seven years in prison and still dare to ask?"

Lady Mariam stepped forward with folded arms.

"Your sister isn't our guest anymore. She's paying back a debt."

"A debt?" Damien frowned. "Your family had nothing when I met Laura. I gave you my savings, which helped build your company. What debt could Sharon possibly owe you?"

Laura's eyes were full of contempt.

"That was seven years ago. The day you went to prison, the government froze everything you owned. You're just a poor ex-con now."

A slow clap came from the hallway.

James Smith walked into the living room with a glass of wine. Smiling, he slipped an arm around Laura's waist. She leaned towards him without hesitation.

"She's right," James said. "Did you really expect her to wait seven years for a disgraced rapist? Laura belongs with someone who can give her the life she deserves."

The words hit Damien harder than any punch.

He finally understood: Laura had never loved him. She had loved his power, rank, and money, and the moment he lost them, she chose someone else.

Damien forced himself to stay calm.

"Where's my mother?" he asked. "Why isn't she here?"

Lady Mariam smiled.

"That old woman couldn't live with the shame of having a rapist for a son. She had a heart attack last year and died in a public hospital."

Damien felt a truckload of stingers dumped in his chest.

His mother… Dead, in the same sentence?

He had dreamed of seeing her again every day in prison. Now he never would.

Damien slowly turned toward Sharon. She was crying; a small nod told him everything.

His fists tightened until his nails cut into his palms.

"You monsters. You all will pay for this," he whispered in pain.

For the first time, James felt strange 'cause Damien wasn't shouting, nor was he crying. But the calm in his eyes was far more frightening.

Laura pointed at the door.

"We've had enough, now take yourself off our premises."

Damien looked around the grand hall and smiled bitterly.

"My house," he said quietly. "I paid for every brick in this place."

Lady Mariam laughed and threw a folder onto the table.

"The deed is in Laura's name. You signed it yourself before going to prison. Legally, this house belongs to her."

Damien looked at the papers. He remembered signing them with complete trust. Today, that trust had become his greatest mistake.

He shook his head and gently closed the folder.

"Keep it," he said. "Consider it the last gift you'll ever receive from me."

He walked toward Sharon. "Stand up. We're leaving."

Sharon struggled to her feet, but Laura suddenly grabbed her hair and pulled her back to the floor.

Sharon cried out in pain.

Laura threw a contract onto the table. "She's not going anywhere!"

Damien's eyes turned cold. "What’s that?"

"When your mother became sick, Sharon borrowed money for the hospital and funeral. She signed this agreement."

James picked it up with a grin.

"Thirty years of service," he read. "Or fifty thousand dollars to cancel the debt."

Laura smiled with mischief.

"If she leaves today, I'll call the police. She'll be arrested for breaking the contract, and you'll go right back to prison."

James pulled out a handful of cash and tossed it onto the floor.

"Here," he mocked. "Pick it up. Wash my cars for a few dollars a day. Maybe one day you'll earn enough to buy your sister's freedom."

Sharon burst into tears.

"Brother... please go. Don't let them send you back to prison because of me."

Damien looked at the money on the floor.

He never bent; instead, he took two slow steps toward James.

James instinctively stepped back as Damien stopped in front of Laura.

His face was determined.

"Enjoy this house while you can," he said. "Eat well today. The day is coming when your family will lose everything. When that day comes, fear will be so great that you won't even be able to swallow a single bite."

He turned and walked away.

Behind him, Sharon's cries echoed through the villa.

Outside, the cold wind brushed against his face. Suddenly, his instincts warned him.

He was being followed.

A black car had stayed behind him since he left prison.

Now, two large men stepped out and followed him into a quiet alley.

The moment they entered, Damien disappeared. Before either man could react, powerful hands grabbed both by the throat and threw them against the brick wall.

They struggled helplessly.

"Who sent you?" Damien demanded. "Answer me."

"Please... stop!"

A man in an expensive suit ran into the alley with both hands raised.

"We're not your enemies!"

Damien didn't loosen his grip.

"Then give me a reason to believe you."

The man immediately dropped to his knees. His head remained lowered.

"Martial Fortress," he said with a trembling voice, "the Goddess has sent us."

Damien's eyes narrowed.

"The Goddess says… it's finally time for her to repay the debt she owes you.”