FAR FROM HOME

Anderson's Bastard

Martha stepped forward and blocked Soren’s path. “You’re not going anywhere,” she said coldly. “Leave the Anderson Estate immediately.”

Soren stopped. Martha looked at him without the slightest warmth. “Charles is dead. Whatever reason brought you here, you should stop digging into the past. He is already gone.”

Soren’s eyes turned cold. “Shut up.”

Martha froze. Soren slowly looked at her. “You don’t deserve to say his name.” His voice was quiet, but the anger behind it made the surrounding guests fall silent. “You were Charles’s personal maid. You were supposed to stay beside him and protect him.” He took a step forward. “But you failed.”

Martha’s face changed. “My brother was blind. He trusted the people around him because he had no choice.” Soren’s gaze became colder. “And now he’s dead.” He stared directly into Martha’s eyes. “So don’t stand in front of me and speak his name as if you have the right.”

Martha’s lips trembled slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. “You have no right to accuse me. Charles is dead, and the Anderson family has already buried him. You should leave before you cause trouble.”

Soren stared at her for several seconds, then stepped around her. “I didn’t come here to cause trouble.” His voice was dangerously calm. “I came here because someone killed my brother.” Martha’s face paled. “And I’m going to find out who.”

Soren continued toward the hall. Bertram staggered to his feet, blood running from the corner of his mouth, his eyes filled with rage. “You dare come here and cause trouble in the Anderson Estate? You’d better be ready to die!” He reached for the communicator at his waist.

Before he could press the button, Lucus was already in front of him. His massive hand closed around Bertram’s throat and lifted him off the ground. “What did you say?”

Bertram’s face turned red as his legs kicked helplessly in the air. “I—I said you should leave before the Anderson family—”

Lucus tightened his grip. Bertram’s voice disappeared into a strangled gasp. “You threatened my admiral.” Lucus’s eyes were cold. “Do you know what happens to people who threaten him?”

Bertram desperately grabbed Lucus’s wrist, but he couldn’t move it even an inch.

Crack!

A sharp sound came from Bertram’s wrist. His face twisted in agony. “Ahhh!”

Lucus released him. Bertram dropped to the marble floor, clutching his broken wrist as sweat poured down his face. The entire hall fell silent. Nobody dared to speak.

Lucus looked down at him. “You’re lucky.” Bertram looked up in confusion. “If my admiral hadn’t come here to investigate Charles’s death, you wouldn’t still be breathing.”

Martha's expression hardened. “You should leave before you make things worse.”

Soren stepped around her.

Martha watched him walk away, her expression changing.

A few seconds later, she hurried toward the main hall.

By the time she reached the guests, her hand was already pressed against her cheek.

The heavy doors opened into a vast marble foyer filled with influential guests, servants, and expensive decorations. A grand staircase curved toward the upper floors, while crystal chandeliers illuminated the gathering below.

Lucus leaned closer. “Sir, the higher the floor, the more important the guests. Ordinary visitors stay on the lower floors. The upper levels are reserved for the Anderson family's closest allies and most distinguished guests. The highest floor belongs to the matriarch and the immediate family.”

Soren glanced toward the staircase.

“Then that's where I'm going.”

Soren and Lucus had just reached the main hall when a young man stumbled through the crowd with a wine glass in his hand, weaving past the servants as he made his way toward the main table. He was dressed in an expensive black suit, and several guests moved aside when they saw him approaching.

"Luther! Come on, man, drink with me."

The young man laughed drunkenly as he tapped his glass against Luther Anderson's shoulder. "We're practically family now, aren't we? You should at least take care of me, big brother."

Luther, the first son of the Anderson family, barely paid attention to him. He was about to respond when the young man's eyes suddenly moved past him and landed on Soren and Lucus.

His drunken smile disappeared.

"Who the hell are they? How did they even get this far?"

The people nearby turned to look, and Luther followed their gazes. The moment his eyes landed on Soren, his expression changed.

For several seconds, he simply stared.

Then a mocking smile slowly appeared on his face.

"Soren Anderson?"

Soren stopped but said nothing.

Luther looked him over from head to toe before letting out a cold laugh. "I never thought you would actually have the courage to come back after all these years."

Soren remained expressionless.

Luther took another sip of his wine and continued, "Look at you. Ten years have passed, yet you still look like some nobody who wandered in from the street."

A few guests nearby began whispering among themselves.

"That's Soren Anderson?"

"The bastard who was sent away by the Anderson family?"

"I thought he would never come back."

Luther clearly enjoyed the reaction. He stepped closer to Soren and looked at him with open contempt.

"What are you doing here, bastard?"

Soren still didn't answer.

Luther pointed toward the other side of the hall, where ordinary guests had been seated. "If you came here for my grandmother's birthday celebration, then you should know your place. The first floor is where people like you belong. Stay there with the commoners instead of walking around here as if you're one of the Anderson family."

Lucus's expression immediately turned cold.

"Watch your mouth."

Luther turned his attention toward him and frowned. "And who the hell are you?"

Lucus took a step forward, but Soren remained calm beside him.

Luther looked at Lucus with disdain before calling the butler.

"Bertram!"

"You shouldn't trouble yourself."

Luther narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"

Lucus looked directly at him and calmly replied, "There's nothing a handicapped man can do anyway, so there's no reason for you to get worked up."

The laughter that had filled the hall gradually died away as the guests realized that something was wrong.

Several people turned toward Soren and Lucus, while whispers began spreading through the crowd. Luther's expression darkened as he stared at the two men, clearly offended that Soren had dared to speak to him in front of so many influential guests.

"The Anderson family has been too generous," Luther said coldly. "Now even a bastard who was thrown out of this family thinks he has the right to come here and cause trouble."

Before Soren could respond, hurried footsteps suddenly came from the hallway.

Martha rushed into the hall.

Her face was pale, and one hand was pressed against her cheek as though she had just suffered a painful injury.

The moment the guests saw her, the atmosphere changed.

"Mrs. Martha, what happened?"

"Why are you holding your face?"

Martha stopped near the main table and looked toward Soren with fear in her eyes.

Luther immediately stepped toward her.

"Mrs. Martha, who did this to you?"

Martha lowered her head as though she was afraid to speak, but after a few seconds, she slowly raised her hand and pointed toward Soren.

"It was him."

The entire hall fell silent.

Luther's eyes widened.

"Soren?"

Martha nodded, her expression filled with fear.

"He slapped me."

A wave of shock passed through the guests.

"He slapped Mrs. Martha?"

"How could he dare?"

"He's only just returned, and he's already causing trouble inside the Anderson Estate."

Luther's face became darker as he stared at Soren.

"You actually hit her?"

Soren looked at Martha without saying anything.

He knew she was lying.

He had not touched her.

Luther clenched his fists.

"The Anderson family allowed you to grow up here, and this is how you repay us?"

His voice became increasingly cold.

"You return after ten years, insult my family, threaten my people, and now you even attack one of the servants of Andersons?"

Soren's gaze remained fixed on Luther as he stood before him.

"Mrs. Anderson has always believed you were the best son in the Anderson family," Soren said, his voice carrying a faint trace of sarcasm. "Perhaps that is why she failed to notice how little you actually deserve that position."

Before Soren could finish, Luther shot up from his chair, his fists clenched as fury spread across his face.

The conversations around the hall immediately stopped.

Several Anderson family members exchanged shocked looks before whispers began spreading among the guests.

"Did he really just insult Luther?"

"That's Luther Anderson, the heir of the Anderson family."

"Who does Soren think he is?"

"He disappears for ten years and comes back acting like this?"

One of the Anderson siblings suddenly stood up.

"We have always known Soren was a lowly bastard, but I never expected him to become this disrespectful."

Another sibling followed, his expression filled with contempt.

"How dare you speak to Luther like that? Grandmother has always believed he is the best son in this family, and everyone knows he is the one who will inherit the Anderson family."

A third sibling sneered.

"You were fortunate enough to be taken into this family when you were young, yet instead of being grateful, you came back after ten years and started insulting the person who is supposed to lead us."

Lucus's expression darkened, but Soren remained completely calm.

Luther said nothing.

His anger was already boiling beneath his clenched fists, and his eyes were fixed on Soren with a dangerous intensity.

Soren didn't look away.

Instead, he took another step forward.

"Since everyone is so certain that Luther is the heir of the Anderson family, then perhaps he should be able to answer a simple question."

The hall gradually became quiet again.

Soren's eyes narrowed.

"Tell me, Luther."

He paused briefly before asking, "How exactly did Charles die?"

Luther's expression changed.

The smile disappeared from his face.