Ex Husband Returns: The Martial Arts Godmaster

Chapter 2: The Last Chance

Before Logan could take another step toward the exit, two burly security guards in black suits moved to block his path. Their hands fell heavily on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees on the cold marble floor.

"Where do you think you're going, pest?" one guard sneered, his grip tightening. "Mr. Blackwood didn't dismiss you yet."

The wedding guests erupted in delighted laughter as Logan was forced into a humiliating position before the altar where his wife—his former wife—stood radiant in her wedding gown.

"Look at him!" cackled an elderly woman. "On his knees like a dog begging for scraps!"

"More like a cockroach trying to scurry away when the lights come on," laughed another guest.

Logan lifted his head, his eyes finding Amelia's face. Despite the guards pressing down on him, despite the crowd's cruel amusement, he had to ask her one last time.

"Amelia," his voice carried across the ballroom, steady despite his position. "Look me in the eyes and tell me—are you really going to choose this man over me? Over everything we had?"

Amelia's expression didn't waver. She stepped closer to Darien, her arm linking through his possessively. "Without hesitation, Logan. Darien is everything you could never be."

"He's a real man," she continued, her voice ringing with conviction. "Not some pathetic worm who crawls in the dirt for a living."

"Hear that, delivery boy?" Darien called out mockingly. "She's made her choice. A woman of quality choosing quality over... whatever you are."

The crowd roared with laughter and applause.

"He's like a termite!" someone shouted. "Destructive and useless!"

"At least termites eat wood," another guest corrected. "This one just eats away at people's happiness!"

Logan's mind raced as he remained on his knees. Tomorrow would mark exactly eighteen months since their marriage—eighteen months since he had begun the delicate process of removing the Crimson Death poison from Amelia's system. The rare toxin had been slowly killing her, and only his divine healing powers, inherited from his legendary grandfather, could save her life.

For a year and a half, he had played the role of the humble flower delivery man, the despised live-in son-in-law, enduring countless humiliations while secretly channeling his divine energy to neutralize the poison drop by drop. He had even used his vast hidden resources to build her small flower shop into a thriving business empire, all from the shadows.

But she didn't know. She had no idea that the man kneeling before her was the Martial King who ruled the four cardinal directions of the country, feared by armies and respected by emperors. She didn't know that tomorrow, the final traces of poison would be purged from her body, and she would be free to live a long, healthy life.

"Amelia," Logan said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made several guests pause their mockery. "You don't understand what you're throwing away. What you're risking."

"What I'm risking?" Amelia laughed shrilly. "The only thing I risked was wasting three years of my life with a pathetic insect like you!"

"He probably thinks he can win her back with his flower delivery skills," Darien smirked. "What's next, maggot? Going to offer to arrange the centerpieces at our honeymoon?"

The crowd exploded with renewed laughter.

"Maybe he can pollinate the garden!" called out a man in a expensive suit.

"Or crawl around eating the dead leaves!" added a woman dripping in diamonds.

Logan felt something inside him shift, a cold acceptance settling over his features. If Amelia was determined to throw away not just their marriage but her very life, he couldn't force her to see reason.

"One last chance, Amelia," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but somehow audible throughout the silent ballroom. "Think carefully about what you're doing."

He was still willing to let the humiliation go.

But Amelia was already reaching into her purse, pulling out a folder of legal documents. She threw the papers at Logan's face, the divorce decree scattering across the marble floor.

"There's your answer, you disgusting pest!" she snarled. "Sign those papers right now! I want you out of my life forever!"

"Sign them, bug boy!" Darien commanded. "My wife wants nothing more to do with a bottom-feeder like you!"

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" the crowd began chanting, their voices filled with cruel amusement.

Logan looked at the papers scattered around him, then back at Amelia. She had turned away from him completely now, facing Darien with adoring eyes.

"If this is truly what you want," Logan said softly.

The officiant, who had been watching the spectacle with barely concealed excitement, cleared his throat. "Shall we continue with the ceremony, then?"

"Yes!" Amelia declared triumphantly. "I can't wait another second to be free of this parasite!"

Logan watched in silence as Amelia and Darien joined hands at the altar. The officiant resumed the ceremony with theatrical flair, clearly enjoying the drama.

"By the power vested in me," the officiant announced grandly, "I now pronounce you husband and wife! Darien, you may kiss your bride!"

The kiss was long and passionate, performed with deliberate cruelty for Logan's benefit. The wedding guests cheered and applauded, their voices echoing off the marble walls.

When they finally broke apart, Amelia looked directly at Logan, her eyes cold and victorious. "There. It's done. We're married, and you're nothing."

Logan slowly reached for the divorce papers, his movements causing the guards to grip him tighter.

"That's right, sign them like the obedient little ant you are," Darien called out. "Accept your place at the bottom of the food chain!"

"He's probably too stupid to read them," laughed a guest.

"Maybe he needs pictures!" suggested another. "Little drawings of bugs to help him understand!"

Logan signed the papers with steady hands, his expression unreadable. As he finished the last signature, he looked up at the guards still restraining him.

"I'm done here," he said quietly. "Let me go."

"Not so fast, delivery boy," the first guard sneered. "Mr. Blackwood might want to have some more fun with you."

"Yeah," the second guard added. "Maybe we should make you clean up those flowers you dropped. Get you down on your hands and knees where you belong."

Logan's eyes slowly lifted to meet theirs, and for just a moment, something flickered in his gaze—something dark and dangerous that made both guards hesitate.

"Let. Me. Go." he repeated, his voice carrying an undertone that seemed to vibrate through the air itself.

But the guards, emboldened by the crowd's laughter, only gripped him tighter.

That was their mistake.

With a fluid motion that seemed almost casual, Logan rose to his feet, the guards' hands falling away from him as if they'd been burned. The two large men stumbled backward, their faces pale with shock.

"What the hell—" one guard started to say, but Logan was already walking toward the exit.

"Stop right there!" Darien's voice boomed across the ballroom. "Nobody gave you permission to leave, you worthless maggot!"

Logan paused at the doorway, his back still turned to the crowd. When he spoke, his voice carried across the entire venue with terrifying clarity.

"Who dares to stop me?"