Justice of the Supreme War God

Chapter 2: The Violent Confrontation

The morning sun had barely crested the mountain peaks when the sound of screeching tires shattered the villa's tranquility. Diana stood in the foyer, still wearing her silk robe, a coffee cup frozen halfway to her lips as the heavy oak doors burst open.

Liam Steel strode in like he owned the place, flanked by four bodyguards built like concrete walls. His designer suit probably cost more than most people's cars, and his handsome face was twisted with rage.

"Where is she?" Liam's voice boomed through the marble hallway. "Where's Diana Morrison?"

"It's Diana Hayes now." Diana's voice was ice as she descended the grand staircase, her movements unhurried, deliberately calm. "And you're trespassing, Liam. I'd suggest you leave before I call security."

Liam's eyes locked onto her, burning with fury and something darker. "Hayes? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I got married yesterday," Diana said flatly, setting her coffee cup on a side table with a soft click. "The paperwork is filed. It's done."

"Like hell it is!" Liam closed the distance between them in three aggressive strides. His bodyguards fanned out behind him, hands hovering near concealed weapons. "You were supposed to marry Ryan. Our families had an arrangement—"

"Your families had an arrangement," Diana corrected, her tone sharp as broken glass. "I never agreed to anything. And even if I had, I certainly wouldn't marry your spineless cousin. Ryan can't make a decision without consulting three lawyers and his mother."

Liam's face flushed crimson. "You arrogant bitch. Do you have any idea what you've done? The Steel family doesn't tolerate disrespect."

"Then perhaps the Steel family should learn." Diana crossed her arms, utterly unmoved by his posturing. "I'm not some piece of property to be traded between families. The arrangement is void. Deal with it."

"Void?" Liam laughed, but it was an ugly sound. "Nothing is void until I say it's void. You're going to divorce whatever trash you married and—"

"I don't think so."

The quiet voice came from the top of the staircase. Marcus descended slowly, still wearing the same worn gray suit from yesterday, his hair slightly disheveled from sleep. He looked entirely ordinary, almost shabby next to the opulence surrounding him.

Liam turned, his lip curling with instant contempt. "And who the hell are you? The gardener?"

"Diana's husband," Marcus replied evenly, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He positioned himself slightly in front of Diana—not protectively, exactly, but deliberately between her and Liam.

For a moment, Liam just stared. Then he burst out laughing, a sound so full of mockery it echoed off the high ceilings. "This? This is who you married? Diana Morrison, ice queen of Phoenix City, married to... what, exactly? A beggar? A vagrant she picked up off the street?"

His bodyguards chuckled dutifully.

Marcus said nothing.

"Look at him!" Liam circled Marcus like a shark, his voice dripping with disdain. "That suit looks like it survived a garbage fire. Those shoes have holes in them. Jesus Christ, Diana, even you have standards. What is this, some kind of charity case? Did you marry him out of pity?"

"My reasons are none of your concern," Diana said coldly, though something flickered across her face—discomfort, maybe, or embarrassment at having her arrangement so publicly mocked.

"Oh, I think they are my concern." Liam stopped directly in front of Marcus, looking him up and down with undisguised contempt. "Let me guess—you saw an opportunity to latch onto the Morrison fortune, didn't you? Found yourself a desperate rich girl and convinced her to sign a marriage certificate. How much is she paying you to play husband, friend? What's the going rate for a fake marriage these days?"

Marcus's expression remained perfectly neutral. "The terms of our arrangement are private."

"'Arrangement,'" Liam repeated, grinning viciously. "So he admits it! Diana, for God's sake, this is pathetic even for you. You married some broke nobody just to avoid marrying Ryan? Do you hate us that much?"

"Yes," Diana said simply. "I do."

Liam's amusement vanished. "Then you're even more stupid than I thought. The Steel family doesn't forgive insults like this. You're going to divorce this... this parasite... and you're going to marry Ryan within the month, or—"

"Or what?" Diana stepped forward, her voice dropping to something dangerous. "You'll do what, exactly? Threaten me? Intimidate me? I'm not afraid of you, Liam. I'm not afraid of your family. The Steels might have power in Phoenix City, but the Morrisons have history. We were here first, we'll be here last."

Liam's hand moved so fast it was almost a blur—rising to strike Diana across the face.

Almost.

The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the foyer like a gunshot, but it wasn't Diana who'd been hit.

Marcus's hand had intercepted Liam's wrist mid-swing and redirected the momentum, his other hand flashing out to deliver a slap across Liam's face with such force that Liam's head snapped to the side. The sound reverberated off the marble walls.

For three full seconds, nobody moved.

Liam stood frozen, one hand pressed to his reddening cheek, his eyes wide with shock. The bodyguards tensed, hands moving toward their weapons.

"You..." Liam's voice was strangled. "You just hit me. Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Someone who tried to hit my wife," Marcus said calmly. His voice hadn't changed—still quiet, still even—but something in his stance had shifted. The ordinary man in the shabby suit suddenly seemed to occupy more space, as if gravity itself bent differently around him.

"I'm going to kill you." Liam's shock crystallized into rage. "I'm going to break every bone in your worthless body. Do you know what happens to people who touch me?"

"I imagine they end up disappointed," Marcus replied.

Liam lunged forward, grabbing for Marcus's collar. "You smug piece of—"

His words cut off in a shriek as Marcus caught his right index finger—just that one finger—and applied pressure with surgical precision. The snap was audible, sharp and clean.

Liam staggered backward, cradling his hand, his face white with shock and pain. "My finger! You broke my fucking finger!"

"Consider it a warning," Marcus said, his tone utterly conversational. "Touch my wife again, and I'll break considerably more than that."

The four bodyguards finally moved, spreading out in practiced formation. They were professionals—ex-military, maybe, or private security trained in hand-to-hand combat. Each one outweighed Marcus by at least fifty pounds of muscle.

But they hesitated.

Something in Marcus's stillness gave them pause. He hadn't moved into a fighting stance, hadn't raised his hands, hadn't done anything overtly threatening. Yet the air around him had changed—become charged with something indefinable. The bodyguards recognized it instinctively, that primal warning system that separates survivors from casualties.

This man, despite his shabby appearance, despite his ordinary features, despite everything that suggested he was nobody—this man was dangerous.

"Well?" Marcus asked quietly. "Are we doing this?"

The lead bodyguard, a scarred man with dead eyes, exchanged glances with his companions. Slowly, fractionally, they stood down.

"Smart," Marcus observed.

"This isn't over!" Liam was backing toward the door, still clutching his broken finger, his face a mask of pain and humiliation. "The Steel family will destroy you! Both of you! We'll take everything—your business, your reputation, your lives!"

"Feel free to try," Diana said coldly. She'd watched the entire exchange with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "My lawyers are better than yours."

"Lawyers?" Liam laughed shrilly, hysterically. "You think lawyers matter? When my uncle hears about this, when the family council convenes—Diana, you have no idea what you've done. And you!" He jabbed his good hand at Marcus. "You're a dead man. Dead! No one touches a Steel and lives to—"

"Leave," Marcus interrupted softly. "Before I decide one broken finger wasn't sufficient."

The bodyguards were already guiding Liam toward the door, professional enough to recognize when a situation had deteriorated beyond salvage. Liam continued screaming threats as they bundled him into the black SUV outside, his voice echoing across the mountain air until the vehicle roared away down the winding driveway.

Silence settled over the foyer like snow.

Diana stared at Marcus, her ice-blue eyes searching his face for something—she wasn't sure what.