LOSER IS THE BILLIONAIRE HEIR

Disheartened

Marcus felt something cold and dangerous unfurling in his chest as the Sterling family's contempt washed over him. The righteous anger wasn't just human indignation—it carried the weight of divine authority that had once commanded respect across supernatural realms. He had come here to honor a sacred promise between grandfathers, not to be treated like refuse by people who should have been grateful for his family's generosity.

They see weakness where there is power beyond their comprehension, he thought, feeling the divine energy that Elder Chronos had awakened beginning to stir. If only they knew what stands before them.

Diana raised her hand, cutting through her parents' continued verbal assault. "Enough."

The authority in her voice surprised everyone, including Marcus. When Diana Sterling spoke with that tone, even her parents listened.

"This spectacle has gone on long enough," Diana said, her ice-blue eyes fixing on Marcus with cold calculation. "My grandfather is currently receiving treatment at a private medical facility. We can discuss this... contract... at a more appropriate time."

She gestured dismissively toward the buffet table. "For now, you may stay and eat. But do not embarrass my family further in front of our guests. Is that understood?"

Without waiting for an answer, Diana crumpled the ancient contract and threw it at Marcus's feet like garbage. The parchment bounced off his chest and scattered across the marble floor.

The crowd erupted in fresh laughter and applause.

"That's how you handle trash!" someone called out.

"Put him in his place, Diana!"

"Now maybe he'll crawl back where he came from!"

Alexander Cross stepped forward, his expensive cologne unable to mask the predatory satisfaction radiating from him. "You heard the lady, nobody. Grab some scraps from the buffet and try not to steal the silverware on your way out."

Marcus looked at Alexander—really looked at him—and felt a sudden, violent flash of memory pierce his consciousness. A battlefield littered with supernatural corpses. Alexander Cross, twenty years younger, kneeling in the mud with tears streaming down his face. "Please, my lord! Have mercy! I didn't know it was your territory! I'll never cross you again!"

The memory was so vivid, so real, that Marcus had to steady himself against the wave of recognition.

This pathetic creature once begged for his life at my feet.

"Something wrong, street rat?" Alexander sneered, misinterpreting Marcus's momentary stillness. "Finally realizing you don't belong among your betters?"

Marcus's voice came out perfectly calm, though something dangerous flickered in his dark eyes. "I don't want your food. I don't want your celebration."

He turned to Diana, who was already moving toward the crystal staircase. "Get your grandfather's answer. Now."

Diana paused, turning back with barely concealed annoyance. "Excuse me?"

"I said get your grandfather's answer. I didn't come here to play games with children."

The crowd gasped at his audacity.

"Did he just call Diana Sterling a child?"

"This guy has completely lost his mind!"

"Someone needs to teach him some respect!"

Diana's face flushed with anger, but something in Marcus's tone made her pull out her phone. "Fine. But when Grandfather confirms this contract is worthless, you leave immediately."

She dialed a number, her fingers tight on the device. After three rings, an elderly voice answered.

"Diana? What's wrong, dear?"

"Grandfather William, I need you to explain something to me." Diana hit the speaker button, her eyes never leaving Marcus's face. "There's a man here claiming we have some kind of arranged marriage contract. Marcus Steele. Do you know anything about this?"

Silence stretched for several heartbeats. Then William Sterling's voice came through the speaker, heavy with resignation.

"Oh. Oh no. Diana, I was hoping this day would never come."

The ballroom went dead quiet.

"What do you mean?" Diana's voice cracked slightly.

"Many decades ago, the Sterling family was... in serious financial trouble," William's words came slowly, as if each one caused him pain. "We were facing complete bankruptcy. The supernatural community was ready to tear us apart like vultures."

Diana's face grew pale. "Grandfather..."

"Marcus's grandfather—a man of incredible power and resources—saved us. He lent us ten million dollars when no one else would even take our calls. Without that money, there would be no Sterling Industries, no family fortune, nothing."

The crowd exchanged uncomfortable glances, their mockery replaced by sudden uncertainty.

"In my desperation," William continued, "I agreed to arrange a marriage between you and his grandson. It seemed like a small price to pay for our family's survival. But now... looking back, it was a hasty decision made by a desperate old man."

Diana's hands were shaking now. "This can't be real."

"The contract is binding under supernatural law, Diana. But..." William's voice softened. "If you truly don't want this engagement, we can cancel it. We'll return the money with interest. After all these years, we can afford to pay our debts."

Alexander Cross laughed harshly, relief flooding his features. "There you have it! A desperate old man's mistake. Problem solved."

Diana straightened, her business instincts taking over. She pulled out her checkbook, writing with sharp, angry strokes. "Ten million dollars. Plus interest. That's what this is really about, isn't it?"

She tore off the check and held it out to Marcus like a weapon. "Take your money. Our engagement is officially ended. We are not equals, we have nothing in common, and we have nothing to do with each other anymore."

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

"That's how you handle gold diggers!"

"Send him back to whatever gutter he crawled out of!"

"Diana Sterling doesn't need to buy herself a husband!"

Marcus looked at the check, then at Diana's cold, beautiful face. A slow smile spread across his features—not cruel, but carrying the weight of infinite patience.

"I hope you don't regret this decision," he said quietly.

Another memory surfaced, crystal clear this time. Sitting on a throne built from the weapons of fallen enemies, supernatural beings from across dimensions bringing tribute and begging for favorable judgments. The absolute authority to decide the fates of entire supernatural bloodlines with a single word.

Alexander Cross burst into fresh laughter. "Regret it? You're a joke! A nobody trying to con his way into wealth and status!"

"Take the money," Diana said coldly. "Go live a simple life somewhere far from here. Stop chasing things that are beyond your reach."

Marcus looked around the ballroom—at the laughing crowd, at Diana's contemptuous expression, at Alexander's smug satisfaction. These people had no idea what they were dismissing. They saw only what their prejudices allowed them to see.

Let them learn the hard way.

Without a word, Marcus took the check. The crowd held its breath, waiting for him to pocket it and leave in defeat.

Instead, Marcus began tearing the check into small pieces.

The sound of ripping paper echoed through the sudden silence like gunshots. Piece by piece, the ten million dollars fell to the marble floor like confetti.

Then Marcus picked up the ancient contract—the document that had bound their families for decades—and tore it apart as well.

"What are you doing?" Diana gasped.

Marcus let the final pieces flutter to his feet, then looked up at her with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of eternity.

"I don't need your money," he said simply. "And I don't need your approval."