From Scorned To Supreme

Today marked the 80th birthday of the Stone family patriarch. The hall dripped with wealth—chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds, marble floors polished to a mirror shine, and the finest champagne flowing freely.

Only the elite and closest members of the Stone family were allowed into this exclusive, grand hall, each one of them wearing their status as a shield. You could practically smell the clashes of power in the air.

The Stones were one of the wealthiest families in New York, their influence stretching across borders and industries.

Every major player in the business world wanted a connection to them, an alliance, and even today, they had come bearing gifts fit for kings. It was a competition—who could show the most power, the most influence, the most wealth?

The youngest grandson, Julian Stone, approached first, his confident stride echoing through the lavish room, as he proudly cradled a statue of a golden Buddha, gleaming with an estimated worth in the millions.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, a chorus of surprise and admiration filling the air. Julian, with his dark hair slicked back and an air of charisma that drew eyes spoke passionately about the statue's significance.

“This Buddha,” he declared, his voice steady and calm, “Is not merely a relic of wealth, it symbolizes prosperity and wisdom—qualities I believe my grandfather embodies to the core.”

"As expected from the Stone family’s brightest," an older gentleman remarked, his voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. Heads nodded in agreement, eyes still locked on Julian, impressed by both his presence and what he presented.

Next came the eldest son, Alec Stone, carrying with him a rare pendant unlike any other. This wasn’t just any piece of jewelry—it was a one-of-a-kind masterpiece, the only one of its kind in existence.

His sharp features charged authority as he recounted the difficult journey to obtain the pendant.

“I scoured the globe for this,” he proclaimed, his voice swelling with pride. “I spent millions, called in countless favors, all to bring this treasure to my father.”

His gaze swept over the room, absorbing the admiration and whispers of awe from the crowd, each word of praise fueling the glow of satisfaction in his expression.

"He has his grandfather’s vision. A true heir to the legacy," one whispered from the back, drawing murmurs of agreement.

Then, one of the granddaughters, Sarah, stepped forward, carrying a small, ornate box. Inside was something even more unusual—a specially brewed tea, crafted by a master of medicine, rumored to extend life. It was priceless, unattainable even by the richest. Money alone couldn’t buy it.

The room fell silent as the gift was revealed. Every eye in the room widened with awe, knowing that what lay before them was beyond the reach of power, prestige, or fortune. The family members stood tall, their chests swelling with barely contained pride, but it was the whispers that truly set the tone.

“They could have flaunted their wealth… but instead, they remain so grounded,” one voice murmured.

“It’s remarkable how they never boast, even when they have so much,” another added, their tone almost disbelieving.

Their praises are louder now. “Such humility, such grace—truly a family of virtue.” The murmurs built into a quiet chorus, as though their fortune only served to enhance their nobility.

It was a game of who had the most power and the best connections, and each member of the Stone family played their part perfectly. The praise from others seemed to validate their superiority, a feeling they clearly took pleasure in. But no one truly knew how ugly they were deep down. Beneath their facade, lay darkness that twisted their heart. They were like snakes, slick and cunning.

A family friend and trustee, Patrick, rose to his feet, his voice booming with enthusiasm. “I must take a moment to commend the Stone family! The gifts presented here today are of truly great honor.“

The crowd nodded, murmuring in agreement, clearly captivated by his words. “You all demonstrate what it means to be leaders in our community. Your family's legacy is one of power and influence, and it’s an honor to witness it firsthand! So I'm standing before you all to say—”

Just then, Patrick was cut short as the door banged open, and Elijah, the pathetic son-in-law, stepped in, looking disheveled and out of place. No surprise.

He arrived late, bursting into the hall like an unwanted gust of wind, reminding everyone how out of place he always was. His clothes were crumpled, and his face was red from a heated argument he had with the merchants just moments before.

The last medicinal herb Elijah needed for the gift had almost slipped through his fingers and had fought tooth and nail to secure it. But as Elijah entered the hall, all eyes turned to him, full of disgust and disbelief. It was hard, and they knew nothing about it.

The whispers began immediately. They always did.

“That’s him… the live-in son-in-law.”

“How shameless can he be?”

A year ago, the wife of the patriarch had brought Elijah into this very house. He was barely conscious, covered in blood, and clinging to life. She forced her granddaughter, Eleanor, to marry him. No one understood why.

I mean how would they? Elijah was a nobody—a man with no past, no name, no fortune. When Elijah awoke, he didn’t even have the decency to leave at all. Instead, he made himself comfortable, so much so that he started referring to Eleanor, the number one beauty of the Stone family, as "wife."

They had tried to kick Elijah out many times. They insulted him and belittled him, but Elijah was thick-skinned. Nothing they said seemed to penetrate. Elijah just kept his head down and stayed. Cheating whatever came his way, like a lost puppy.

Today, as Elijah stood before the patriarch, he pulled out the shabby-looking herb he had worked so hard to acquire. Silence fell over the room, but not the good kind. It was the kind of silence that comes before a storm.

“This is what you bring to my father on his birthday?” Uncle James scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Disgraceful,” Cousin Marcus muttered.

“How dare he bring such a pathetic gift?”

Elijah’s face burned with embarrassment and anger, but held his ground. Elijah knew the value of the herb, it wasn’t flashy or golden, but it had properties that would benefit the patriarch’s health far more than any statue or pendant. Yet, they didn’t care to hear all about that. Humility? Please, they were far from that. What they took instead was a game, to gloat and see who got the better luxury.

Before Elijah could speak, Eleanor stepped forward, her face pale and tight with worry. She apologized to the patriarch on his behalf, her voice trembling as she tried to salvage what little dignity they had left. Elijah hated how insecure they made her feel. Each day as if she wasn't one of them.

But Eleanor’s cousin, Marcus, who had always been jealous of her, seized the moment.

“Oh, don’t apologize, Eleanor. Let’s not pretend that this… gift… is anything but an insult,” he mocked, his voice rising above the murmurs. “It’s bad enough that you married this nobody. Now he brings shame to the family? How much lower can you sink?”

Eleanor, her voice still trembling, tried once again to defend Elijah. “It’s not about the gift’s appearance, Marcus. It has immense healing properties that could help with Pa’s health.”

Marcus smirked, not even bothering to hide his hatred. “Oh, Eleanor, always the naive one. Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with your sweet Elijah here. Thinking, a few leaves can compare to priceless artifacts. How cute.” He threw a dirty look at Elijah.

Laughter spread through the crowd, echoing through the grand hall. Eleanor’s face turned even redder, and she bit her lip, holding back the anger that simmered beneath the surface.

After Marcus’s condescending comment, the tension in the room grew thick, but Elijah remained silent, clutching the herb tighter in his hand. Elijah’s mind raced, not only from the public embarrassment but also from rage. Elijah tried his very hardest to suppress it or so help him, It would end in bloodshed.

“Marcus,” Elijah said, my voice calm but laced with irritation. “You’re mocking something you don’t understand. This isn’t about wealth or status. This herb can actually heal—”

“Enough!” Marcus interrupted, raising his hand theatrically. “We’re tired of your excuses. You should have stayed hidden, where you belong, instead of embarrassing Eleanor like this.”

Elijah locked eyes with Marcus, and for a moment, their eyes spoke louder than words. It would’ve been so easy to fight back, to wipe that smug grin off Marcu’s face, but Elijah held himself in check knowing it would lead to something big.

Before Elijah could respond, another voice cut through the noise—deeper, older, and more commanding. The patriarch himself had finally spoken.

“Let him speak.”

The room fell silent instantly. All eyes turned to the old man, sitting at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. His voice was raspy, but it carried a weight that no one dared challenge. Marcus, who moments ago had been so full of confidence, suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Tell me,” the patriarch said, focusing on me, “What is this herb, and why did you choose it?”

Elijah swallowed hard. This was his chance—if only they would listen.

“It’s called Dragon Root,” Elijah explained, stepping forward. “It’s extremely rare and only grows in the highest mountains. It strengthens the bones, improves circulation, and can even heal heart conditions. I’ve seen it work miracles. I thought it could help you.”

There was a pause, and for a brief moment, Elijah thought he had gotten through. But then Marcus, unable to resist, scoffed again.

“Oh please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Miracle herbs? What’s next, magic beans?”

“That's enough,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling, “It's not fair what you all do to my husband,” But then, the fright in her voice is very prominent.

Before she could catch her breath, Candice, her bitchy mother stormed over her, smacking her hard across her face.

"How dare you speak like that?" Candice hissed. "You will not disrespect this family!" Eleanor's cheeks flushed red, finger marks already forming.

Something snapped inside Elijah at that moment. His fists clenched, and his jaw tightened, and for a split second, he wanted nothing more than to punch them right in the face. To raise hell and burn them in it, to show the world how evil and messed up they actually are.

But he couldn’t. Elijah had promised Grandma, who saved him on her deathbed, that he would protect Eleanor, and that he wouldn’t retaliate against her family no matter how much they deserved that. But what was he supposed to do? Watching them treat her this way, doing nothing to protect her. All because of him?

Elijah couldn’t take it anymore. He turned to Eleanor, his voice flat. “I’m leaving.”

Eleanor looked at him with wide eyes, but Elijah couldn’t stay. He had reached his limit.

As Elijah walked out of the grand hall and onto the pedestrian lane, the truth of it all pressed down on him. He wasn’t part of the Stone family—and never will be. To them, he was just a poor, forgotten orphan, an outsider with no past or bloodline.

They hated Elijah for it. Each glance, each cold word, reminded Elijah of how little he mattered. But what bothered Elijah the most was the old lady’s decision. Why had she insisted he marry Eleanor? Why had she handed him the family heirloom with such trust, as if he belonged, when the rest of them could barely look at him without contempt?

The memories of Elijah’s life before the orphanage were blank, like a fog that never lifted. Elijah had been there since he was six, lost and alone, and nothing before that made sense.

Elijah’s life was a puzzle with missing pieces, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put it all together. But her choice—her dying wish—haunted him. What did she see in Elijah that no one else could? And why did it feel like the key to Elijah’s past lay hidden in that family’s hatred?

Elijah couldn’t shake the feeling that he was more tied to them than any of us knew. But right now, Elijah was just a man with no answers, burdened by a legacy he didn’t even understand. Heck, he doesn't even want to understand.

Just as Elijah was lost in thought, a loud screech echoed from the main road. Elijah looked up, and a convoy of black, luxurious cars rolled to a stop in front of him. People on the street turned to stare as the doors opened, and hundreds of men in black suits stepped out, one after the other.

One man, taller than the rest with a domineering aura, walked up to Elijah. Without a word, he bent at the waist until his neck was level with his knees.

“We finally found you, young master.”

Young master? Who?

Everything Elijah had known, everything Elijah had believed about his life was about to change in ways he couldn’t even begin to understand.