From Busboy To Iron Lord: The Almighty Rowan Lachlan Returns

Chapter 6

The heavy silence that fell over the banquet hall was deafening.

Dozens of the Imperial City’s most arrogant elites stared at the tall, red-haired stranger.

The sheer audacity of a man walking into a high-society gathering, throwing a contract at the feet of the Renard matriarch, and casually claiming he had just bought out a billionaire’s empire was entirely unheard of.

Mirabel Renard stared at the paper by her designer shoes, her wrinkled face twitching with a mix of confusion and rising fury.

But before anyone could speak, Nancy suddenly lunged forward.

She shoved herself between Rowan and her grandmother, her face pale and her eyes wide with absolute terror.

Six years ago, she ruined herself by being negligent.

They said a member of the Williams family was in a room, so she went in and slept with him hoping he was an heir, only to discover he was the lowest of the low.

It had cost her her family, her dignity, and her future.

She could not… would not, let history repeat itself.

If her grandmother thought she was conspiring with a madman to forge a billion-dollar contract, she would be exiled forever.

“Grandmother, don’t listen to him!” Nancy cried out, her voice cracking as she pointed a trembling finger at Rowan. “He doesn’t own the Locke project. He doesn’t even own anything. It’s him... he’s the busboy! The Williams family busboy from six years ago!”

For a split second, the crowd was stunned.

Then, they began talking all at once.

“The busboy? You mean the unfortunate thing who knocked her up?”

“Good lord, he actually came back! And he’s pretending to be a billionaire?”

A low chuckle started from the back of the room, quickly swelling into a roar of mocking laughter.

“He bought the Locke Corporation? With what? His tip money from clearing tables?”

Hearing the wheeze, everyone turned toward the direction of the voice to see a seated young man slapping his knee as he laughed loudly.

Mirabel’s face flushed a deep, violent shade of red.

The humiliation of having her family’s greatest scandal waltz into her banquet and pull a cheap stunt was unbearable.

“You worthless, delusional trash! The next time I see you, I will make sure that would be your last time standing on both feet!” she spat, glaring at Rowan with pure venom.

Then, she turned her wrath on Nancy. “And you! Have you lost your mind bringing this stray dog here to mock me?”

“No, I didn't bring him, I swear!” Nancy immediately pleaded, her shoulders dropping in utter defeat.

She lowered her head, the last shred of hope she held toward joining the Renard family again crumbling to dust.

Beside her, Rowan stood entirely still. He looked down at Nancy’s trembling form.

In the army, he personally executed snitches, but this was just a woman who was afraid of having her life ruined by him again, so he understood.

But as his icy blue gaze swept across the laughing crowd, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet.

These parasites, however, were a different story entirely.

“Well, well, well. Lady Renard, it seems your granddaughter’s taste in men hasn't improved one bit.”

The crowd parted as a young man in a burgundy suit sauntered forward, swirling a glass of red wine.

It was Henri Elliot, the heir to the Elliot Real Estate Group and the Renard family’s most bitter business rival.

Henri had attended the banquet solely to spy on the Locke contract negotiations and gloat if the Renards failed.

He stopped in front of Rowan, looking the towering redhead up and down with a sneer of pure amusement.

“I have to hand it to you, busboy. You have a lot of nerve walking into a room full of multi-millionaires and claiming you bought a two-billion-dollar hotel development with a flick of your pen. That’s prime entertainment.”

“Mr. Elliot, do not interfere. I will have security throw them both out,” Mirabel said through clenched teeth, embarrassed that her rival was witnessing this circus.

“Oh, let them stay a minute longer, Lady Renard! This is too good,” Henri laughed, pulling a sleek, gold-plated phone from his pocket.

He tapped the screen and looked at Rowan with a wicked, predatory grin.

“You claim you bought the Grand Meridian and the Locke project, right? Well, it just so happens my family does a lot of business with Locke Corporation. So I have the private number of their Chief Financial Officer on speed dial.”

Nancy’s heart skipped.

Rowan didn't look down. His eyes remained locked on Henri. “Make the call.”

Henri laughed loudly agsin, shaking his head at the sheer stupidity of the man in front of him.

Usually, the smart scammers would choose this time to come clean and confess to trying to swindle everyone.

But seeing Rowan keep up the act got him really excited.

He was certain once he was done embarrassing the Renard family’s son-in-law, several people in attendance today would want nothing to do with them.

“Alright, busboy. Let’s make a bet. I’m going to put the CFO on speakerphone right now.”

The crowd immediately leaned in, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“If he answers this phone and confirms that you, whatever your name is or someone remotely connected to them just bought out his CEO... I will personally transfer fifty million dollars into the Renard family’s account,” Henri proclaimed arrogantly.

“But,” he continued, his voice dropping while his grin widened, “when he confirms you’re just a lying, delusional rat... you and Nancy are going to get down on your hands and knees, and you are going to lick the snow off my shoes in front of everyone in this room.”

Rowan’s face remained an unreadable.

He looked at the phone in Henri’s hand, and for the first time since entering the room, the corners of his lips curled into a faint, chilling smile.

“Make the call, but when he answers... you won't be losing fifty million dollars.”

Rowan took a single step forward, directly towering over Henri.

“You will be liquidating the Elliot Real Estate Group and handing it to Nancy Renard.”

Henri Elliot didn’t think anything of it.

In no world did he or anyone around think Rowan was telling the truth.

He held his gold-plated phone up, tapping the speaker button so the entire banquet hall could hear.

The line rang twice before it was answered.

“Mr. Park? It’s Henri Elliot. “I’m at a banquet with the Renard family, and we have a poser claiming he just bought out the Grand Meridian Hotel and the Locke Corporation’s new project. Care to put this joker to rest?”

There was a heavy, ragged sigh on the other end of the line.

When the Chief Financial Officer of the Locke Corporation finally spoke, his voice was trembling with exhaustion and sheer terror.

“I don't know who you are talking about, Mr. Vance, and I frankly don't care. I have no idea who this 'busboy' is.”

Henri burst into laughter immediately, shooting a triumphant look at Mirabel Renard. “See? I told yo…”

“But,” the CFO interrupted, his voice rising defeatedly, “if you are calling about the Locke Corporation’s assets... yes. It’s gone. All of it.”

The laughter in the banquet hall instantly died.