ETHAN’S ULTIMATE RISE TO POWER

The Ambush

The hall was a storm of whispers and shattered glass. Ethan stood frozen, the golden eagle pendant heavy against his chest, its cold metal burning into his skin like a brand. The words.“Young Master” echoed in his mind, each syllable a hammer striking his reality apart. He didn’t understand. Not fully. But the weight of every gaze in the room told him this was no mistake.

Helena clung to his arm, her breath uneven, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. The guards who had held Ethan moments ago now stood back, their hands twitching nervously, unsure whether to bow or flee. The woman in the black-and-gold gown straightened, her piercing eyes scanning the room before settling on Ethan again. Her smile was both warm and commanding, like a queen addressing her court.

“Enough of this chaos,” she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. “This wedding is over.”

Mr. Rodriguez’s face twisted, his cheeks flaming red. “Who do you think you are?” he bellowed, stepping forward, his fists clenched. “This is my daughter’s wedding! You can’t just—”

The woman didn’t flinch. She raised a single gloved hand, and the guards behind her shifted, their white suits gleaming under the chandeliers. The subtle movement silenced Mr. Rodriguez mid-sentence. His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes darted to the golden eagle crests on their lapels. For the first time, he looked small.

“I am Eleanor Lancaster,” the woman said, her tone calm but laced with steel. “And I speak for the Lancaster family. You will not question me, Mr. Rodriguez. You will listen.”

A collective gasp rippled through the guests. Eleanor Lancaster. The name alone seemed to carry a gravity that bent the room. Even Martin, still sprawled on the floor amidst broken glass and cake, froze, his smug facade crumbling entirely.

Ethan’s mind raced. Lancaster family. Young Master. Eleanor Lancaster. The words swirled, but they didn’t connect. He wasn’t a Lancaster. He was Ethan—a nobody who’d scraped by, fought for everything, and lost it all. Or so he thought. His gaze flickered to Helena, who was staring at Eleanor with a mixture of dread and curiosity.

“Ethan,” Helena whispered, her voice barely audible. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his throat dry. His hand instinctively tightened around hers, grounding himself in the only thing that felt real.

Eleanor turned to Ethan, her expression softening again. “Young Master, we have much to discuss, but this is neither the time nor the place. You must come with us.”

“Come with you?” Ethan’s voice was rough, edged with disbelief. “I don’t even know who you are. Why are you calling me that?”

Eleanor’s lips curved slightly, as if she’d expected his confusion. “All will be explained, Ethan. But for now, know this: you are not who you think you are. And you are needed.”

“Needed for what?” Ethan asked, his voice rising. The pain in his ribs flared as he straightened, but he ignored it. “I came here for her.” He nodded toward Helena. “Not for… whatever this is.”

Eleanor’s eyes flicked to Helena, assessing her in a single glance. “The girl,” she said, almost to herself. “She is why you risked everything today.” It wasn’t a question. Her gaze returned to Ethan, sharp and knowing. “Your loyalty is admirable. But your place is with us now.”

“No,” Ethan said firmly, stepping closer to Helena. “I’m not leaving her. Not again.”

Helena’s hand trembled in his, and he felt her shift closer, as if seeking protection from the storm of power now swirling around them. The guests watched in stunned silence, their whispers replaced by a tense, suffocating quiet.

Eleanor’s brow arched, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned to her guards. “Secure the estate. No one leaves until I give the order.”

The guards moved swiftly, fanning out across the hall, their boots echoing in unison. Guests shrank back, clutching their purses and phones, their faces pale. Mr. Rodriguez opened his mouth to protest, but a single glance from Eleanor silenced him again. Mrs. Rodriguez gripped her husband’s arm, her diamond bracelets glinting as she trembled.

Martin scrambled to his feet, brushing glass from his suit. “No… no, that can’t be… he’s just a mechanic! Just a nobody—!” he spat, his voice cracking with fear and anger.

Eleanor didn’t even look at him. “Silence,” she said, her voice low but venomous. One of her guards stepped forward, and Martin flinched, stumbling back into the wreckage of the table.

Ethan’s head spun. He hated Martin so much, but the man’s panic was real. If Martin hadn’t invited the Lancasters, who had? And why were they here for him?

“Eleanor,” Ethan said, testing the name. “If you’re here for me, then tell me why. Right now.”

Eleanor’s eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw something flicker in them—regret, perhaps, or sorrow. “You were hidden for a reason, Ethan,” she said softly. “To protect you. But the time for hiding is over. The Lancaster family has enemies... enemies who would see our bloodline erased. You are the last of our direct line. The heir.”

Ethan’s breath caught. Heir? The word felt like a punch to the chest. He shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s impossible. I’m nobody. I’ve got no family, no money, nothing.”

“You have everything,” Eleanor said, her voice steady. “You just don’t remember.”

Helena’s grip tightened on his arm. “Ethan, what does she mean?” Her voice was shaking now, her eyes searching his face for answers he didn’t have.

Before Ethan could respond, a low, rhythmic thumping from outside cut through the tension. Helicopter blades, slowing down but still audible. The chandeliers trembled again, and a shadow passed over the massive windows lining the hall. More vehicles were arriving.

Eleanor’s expression darkened. “They’ve found us already,” she muttered, almost to herself. She turned to her guards. “Prepare for extraction. Now.”

“Extraction?” Ethan snapped. “What the hell is going on?”

Eleanor’s gaze snapped back to him. “There’s no time. You’re in danger, Ethan. You both are.” She glanced at Helena, her tone softening slightly. “If you care for her, you’ll bring her with us. She won’t be safe here.”

“Safe from what?” Ethan demanded, his frustration boiling over. “You show up, call me some kind of heir, and now you’re saying we’re in danger? From who?”

Eleanor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I will explain everything later. But we have to leave now!"

Before Ethan could argue, the doors burst open again. This time, it wasn’t Lancaster guards. Men in black tactical gear stormed in, their faces obscured by masks, their rifles raised. The guests screamed, diving under tables or scrambling toward the walls. Mr. Rodriguez shouted something incoherent, and Martin ducked behind a pillar, his bravado gone.

Eleanor’s guards reacted instantly, forming a protective circle around her and Ethan. “Hostiles!” one of them barked, drawing a sleek pistol from beneath his white suit.

Ethan pulled Helena behind him, his heart pounding. “Who are they?” he shouted at Eleanor.

“Enemies,” she said grimly. “The ones I warned you about.”

The lead intruder raised a hand, signaling his men to hold fire. His voice was cold, mechanical, filtered through a mask. “Hand over the boy, Lancaster. This doesn’t have to end in blood.”

Eleanor stepped forward, unflinching. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

The man laughed, a hollow sound. “So be it.”

Before anyone could move, a deafening crack split the air. One of the chandeliers exploded, raining glass and sparks onto the floor. Guests screamed, and chaos erupted. Ethan grabbed Helena’s hand and dove behind a marble pillar, his injuries screaming in protest.

“Stay down!” he hissed, shielding her with his body.

Helena’s face was pale, her wedding dress streaked with dust. “Ethan, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his eyes scanning the hall. Eleanor’s guards were returning fire, their movements precise and disciplined. The intruders responded in kind, bullets tearing through the opulent decor.

Eleanor stood at the center of the chaos, her gown untouched by the debris. She raised a hand, and her guards shifted their focus, forming a path toward the doors. “Young Master!” she called. “With me!”

Ethan hesitated. Every instinct told him to run, to take Helena and disappear into the night. But the pendant around his neck felt heavier now, a reminder of a truth he didn’t yet understand. And the men in black weren’t here for a wedding. They were here for him.

He made a decision.

“Helena, stay close,” he said, pulling her to her feet. They ran toward Eleanor, dodging fallen chairs and shattered glass. Bullets whizzed past, one grazing Ethan’s arm, drawing a sharp sting of blood.

Eleanor’s guards closed ranks around them, moving like a single organism. “To the choppers!” Eleanor ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos.

They burst through the doors into the night air, the sound of helicopter blades roaring louder now. Three sleek black helicopters waited on the estate’s lawn, their golden eagle crests gleaming under floodlights. The intruders were close behind, their gunfire relentless.

Ethan pushed Helena into the nearest chopper, climbing in after her. Eleanor followed, her gown billowing as she ducked inside. The door slammed shut, and the helicopter lifted off, the ground falling away beneath them.

As the estate shrank into the distance, Ethan caught a glimpse of the chaos below; guests fleeing, guards clashing with the intruders, and Martin standing frozen at the gates, his face a mask of shock and fury.

Helena clung to Ethan, her breathing ragged. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the roar of the engines.

Ethan looked at Eleanor, who sat across from them, her expression unreadable. “Somewhere safe,” she said. “For now.”

Ethan’s hand found the eagle pendant, his fingers tracing its sharp edges. He didn’t know what it meant to be a Lancaster, or why people wanted him dead. But as the helicopter soared into the night, carrying him away from everything he’d ever known, one thing was clear: his life would never be the same.