ETHAN’S ULTIMATE RISE TO POWER

YOUNG MASTER

Lucas looked at Ethan for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Okay,” he said, grabbing the car keys. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it now.” He threw Ethan a jacket.

Ethan pulled it on, even though it hurt. The jacket touched his bruises, but he didn’t care. The pain didn’t matter anymore. His heart was racing like a drum. The smell of the hospital, the beeping machines, the soft voice of a nurse in the hall—it all faded away.

Lucas walked beside him in silence, casting wary glances at him. “You're not even supposed to be walking,” he muttered under his breath as they exited the ward. “Damn it, Ethan, you better know what you're doing.”

Ethan didn't respond. He couldn't. His thoughts were a storm, wild and relentless.

The elevator dinged open, and Lucas pressed the button for the underground parking lot. As they descended, Ethan stared at his reflection in the polished metal walls. His eyes were tired, he had a split lip, and he also had a bruise blooming across his jaw. He looked like a man who’d lost everything. And technically speaking, he had lost everything.

They reached the car, and Lucas unlocked the doors. “Get in,” he said firmly. “Before I change my mind and knock you out myself.”

Ethan got into the passenger seat. His hands were shaking a little. Not because he was scared—but because of everything that was about to happen.

Lucas started the car. The engine roared loudly. He held the steering wheel tight, looked over at Ethan, and said, “You better have a really good plan when we get there.”

“I don’t,” Ethan said in a rough voice. “But I have something better than a plan.”

Lucas frowned. “What’s that?”

“A reason,” Ethan said.

Lucas didn’t reply. He just shook his head and stepped on the gas.

The black car shot out of the garage and sped through the streets like a bullet. Lucas gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. His jaw was tight with stress. Ethan sat quietly beside him, one hand holding the dashboard, the other in a fist on his leg. His jacket didn’t hide all the bruises and bandages. He looked like someone who had barely survived—and maybe that was true.

As the car climbed the hill toward the Rutherford family estate, the air inside the car felt heavy. The estate sat high on the hill, imposing and spectacular like a palace. Flags waved near the gates. Expensive cars were parked in a circle. Well-dressed guests were walking up the marble steps to the huge villa where the wedding had already started. A red carpet led from the big iron gates to the hall. Along the carpet, serious-looking security guards in black suits stood watch, each with an earpiece in their ear.

“Jesus,” Lucas muttered as they approached, slowing the car behind a luxury convoy. “This is a fortress.”

Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt, eyes locked on the gold-trimmed doors of the hall at the far end. “Pull over here. I’ll walk.”

Lucas shot him a sharp glance. “You sure about this?”

Ethan exhaled sharply before replying, “I have to be.”

Lucas slammed on the brakes and parked off to the side. “Alright. Do your thing. Just… don’t die.”

Ethan opened the door and stepped out, wincing as the impact of his foot on the pavement sent pain jolting through his ribs. But he didn’t stop. With slow, determined steps, he walked toward the gates. The sun was high now, casting a golden glow over the estate. A breeze rustled the flowers arranged along the hedges, and faint classical music played in the distance. The wedding was starting.

Two security guards quickly stepped in front of Ethan.

“Sir,” one of them said, holding out his hand. “This is a private event. We need to see your invitation.”

Ethan didn’t stop walking. His voice was rough, but loud. “I need to talk to the bride. Helena Rodriguez.”

“No one is allowed to see the bride—”

But then everything went crazy.

Another guard tried to grab Ethan’s arm. Ethan pulled away, and the guard stumbled. “Get off me!” Ethan shouted. “She doesn’t want to marry him!”

People started turning around. Guests near the entrance stared. Some photographers saw what was happening and pointed their cameras.

The guards held onto him, but Ethan pushed back, planting his feet.

“I love her!” he yelled, fighting to get free. “She’s being forced to marry that monster! Helena—!”

Suddenly, the big doors at the end of the hall opened.

The music stopped.

The wedding march went quiet.

People gasped.

Helena was standing there, framed by the light from outside. She wore a beautiful white wedding dress. Her veil hung over her face, and her hands were shaking as she held her bouquet. Behind her stood Martin in a sharp suit, his face full of anger and shock.

Helena’s wide eyes locked onto Ethan as the guards tried to drag him away.

“Helena!” Ethan shouted. “Tell them the truth! This isn’t what you want! Say it!”

She took a step forward, lips parted, her expression torn between shock and heartbreak. Her gaze darted between Ethan and Martin. The bouquet slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.

Martin turned to her, his voice low but threatening. “Helena, don’t.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

And then—

“Stop,” she said, her voice breaking. “Let him go.”

The guards hesitated, confused.

Martin spun on her. “What are you doing, Helena?”

Helena lifted her veil, her voice trembling but rising. “I said let him go!”

Ethan broke free of the guards’ grip just as Helena ran toward him, the guests parting like water. She threw herself into his arms. And for a moment—just a moment—everything stopped. The gasps, the whispers, the flashes of cameras. The entire hall held its breath as the bride clung to the man who had come for her, battered and bruised, but unwilling to let her go.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought they’d kill you…”

Ethan held her tighter, as if afraid this was all a dream. “I’m here now. I won’t let them win.”

The atmosphere in the grand wedding hall shifted in an instant. The weight of tension was unbearable—every eye was on Ethan, and fury boiled in the veins of Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez as they sprang to their feet.

“GUARDS!!” Mr. Rodriguez bellowed, his face red with rage, his voice echoing through the marble pillars like thunder. His hand shot out, trembling with fury as he pointed at Ethan. “TAKE THIS FILTH OUT OF HERE—NOW!”

Two guards immediately lunged forward without hesitation, their footsteps pounding against the floor.

“NO!” Helena screamed, forcing her way through a cluster of stunned guests. “Don’t touch him! Let him go!”

But she was too late.

The guards had already seized Ethan—one clamped an iron grip around his arms while the other wrapped himself around his waist like a steel vice. Ethan didn’t resist. He didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed locked on Helena’s, filled with pain and calm resolve, like a man who had already accepted his fate.

And just as they began to drag him across the marble floor, a thunderous commotion erupted outside. Shouts. Screams. Wind. Blades slicing through the sky. The chandeliers trembled. The very air inside the wedding hall seemed to shudder with the pressure of something massive descending upon it.

The doors burst open with violent force, slamming backward so hard the polished gold frames crashed into the walls, cracking the marble. Dust puffed into the air. Everyone gasped and turned.

Several guards rushed in, their boots skidding as they ran toward Mr. Rodriguez with panic etched across their faces.

“Sir!” one of them said breathlessly, eyes wild. “Dozens of limousines… armored SUVs… choppers have landed just outside the estate!”

Mr. Rodriguez scowled, trying to mask the tremor in his voice. “Then what the hell is the panic? They’re guests! Just more guests arriving late for the wedding!”

But the guard shook his head, his skin pale, his hands twitching. “No, sir… I-I don’t think they’re guests.”

Mrs. Rodriguez stepped up beside her husband, her jaw tight. “Then what makes you think they’re not?” she demanded.

The guard swallowed hard, visibly shaking now. His voice was thin and breaking. “B-Because… all the vehicles… they’re limited edition models. Every one of them bears the golden eagle crest.”

He paused.

And then said the words that silenced the entire world:

“I am afraid those vehicles belong to the Lancaster family.”

Suddenly, a heavy silence fell over the place after the guard made that statement .

The silence wasn't just an ordinary silence, but a dead, pure and stunned sience.

All heads turned. Mouths parted. Glasses slipped from hands and shattered unnoticed.

Everyone—everyone—froze.

Except Ethan.

He furrowed his brows, still caught between two guards. “The Lancaster family?” he asked under his breath, more confused than ever.

But it was clear that everyone else knew exactly who they were.

A low murmur began to build. Whispers. Gasps. Panic.

“Did he say the Lancasters?” someone said, stunned.

“It feels like a dream… the Lancaster family? Here?” another voice whispered, trembling.

Men in designer suits looked like children. Women in diamond jewelry now clutched their pearls in terror. All composure, all ceremony, evaporated at the mere mention of that name.

Ethan blinked, still struggling to understand how a single family name could shake this entire room to its knees. He turned slightly to Helena.

“Who… who are Lancaster family?” he whispered.

Helena stared straight ahead, as if seeing death itself. “I’ve only read about them. Heard whispers. The Lancaster family… they’re not just rich or powerful. They’re the most powerful family in the world. Not just this country—the world. They own oil fields, countries, satellites, stock exchanges. They control governments. Rewrite laws. Nobody sees them. Nobody meets them. But everyone fears them. Their crest is the golden eagle…”

Her voice grew quieter. “If they’re here… something huge is about to happen.”

Mr. Rodriguez’s lips twitched as he turned—stiffly—toward Martin. “Did you… send an invitation to the Lancaster family?” he asked, the words trembling out of his mouth.

Martin stiffened. Eyes from all corners of the room locked onto him. He hesitated—just a beat—and then forced a smug smile. He nodded proudly. “Yes. Yes, I did. I invited them to this wedding.”

As those words left his lips, the crowd erupted in murmurs.

“Martin Rutherford invited the Lancasters?”

“And they actually came?”

“He must be more powerful than we thought…”

Martin stood taller, basking in the admiration. Straightening his tie, his chest swelled with the praise.

But Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He knew Martin was lying. That smug face didn’t hide the slight twitch of panic behind his eyes. Whoever the Lancasters were, Martin sure didn't invite them. He was lying, and everyone seemed to believe him quickly.

Suddenly, the doors opened again.

Another guard, panting, rushed in.

“Sir! The representative of the Lancaster family is… is waiting outside. They said…” he hesitated, swallowing.

Mr. Rodriguez snapped, “Said what?!”

The guard’s voice cracked: “They said… they’re not here for any wedding.”

An audible crack of thunder might’ve been quieter than the gasps that followed.

Mr. Rodriguez’s jaw clenched. His eyes flicked sharply to Martin—then back to the guard. “Then what the hell are they here for?”

Before the guard could respond, a female voice from the doorway responded,

“We came here for someone far more important than everyone in this room.”

All heads turned to the voice.

And then—she appeared.

A woman stood in the massive doorway, her black and gold gown clinging to her like armor woven from wealth itself. The eagle crest glittered on her chest, bold and proud. Her aura was electric—too powerful, too perfect, like a queen who had never been told no.

Behind her, dozens of guards in pristine white suits marched in, the golden eagle blazing on their lapels. They moved as one, falling into formation behind her.

Everyone moved aside, as if pulled by an invisible force.

She walked forward.

Her heels echoed like gunshots in the stunned silence.

Martin smiled, licking his lips nervously. He stepped forward, adjusting his tie. “Well,” he said, puffing his chest, “it seems they’re here to see me.”

He barely finished the sentence before a guard grabbed him by the shoulder and hurled him aside like garbage. Martin crashed into a decorative table, shattering glasses and toppling a cake stand.

The guests gasped in horror.

The woman barely glanced at him. “Who is this filthy piece of trash in a suit?” she asked with disdain.

Martin whimpered, lying dazed on the floor, glass shards around him.

The woman continued forward, looking unbothered.

And then, she stopped. Right in front of Ethan.

Ethan, still held by Martin’s guards, stood frozen.

Was he in her way?

Should he move?

Before he could even step aside, she did something that no one expected; she bowed respectfully.

Gasps tore through the hall like lightning.

And behind her, in perfect unison, every one of her guards dropped to their knees, heads bowed low in reverence.

Ethan’s eyes went wide. “W-What…?”

The woman looked up at him. Her face softened. She smiled warmly before saying, “We apologize for being late… Young Master.”

The entire hall exploded.

People screamed.

Guests fainted.

Phones hit the floor.

Chaos erupted, like the earth itself had cracked.

One of the guards stepped forward and opened a small black velvet box. The woman reached in and pulled out a golden chain, its pendant a shimmering eagle, glinting in the chandelier light like fire. She stepped closer, and with reverent hands, she fastened it around Ethan’s neck.

The moment the cold gold touched his skin, everything changed.

He was no longer the uninvited guest.

He was the reason the most feared family on Earth had come to this wedding.

He was the Young Master of the Lancasters.