LOSER IS THE BILLIONAIRE HEIR

That confidence

Diana watched the torn pieces of the contract and check flutter to the marble floor like fallen leaves, her lips curving into a cold smile of satisfaction. "You'll regret walking away from ten million dollars, you pathetic fool. That money could have set you up for life."

The crowd murmured their agreement, still basking in the drama of Marcus's dramatic gesture.

"What an idiot," someone whispered. "He just threw away more money than he'll ever see again."

"Probably never had that much wealth in his entire bloodline," another guest added with cruel amusement.

Marcus was halfway to the exit when the massive ballroom doors swung open with theatrical precision. The conversations died instantly as three figures entered with the kind of presence that commanded absolute attention.

Victor Moon led the procession, his silver hair perfectly styled and his expensive suit radiating the quiet confidence of someone who controlled half of New York's supernatural underworld. Behind him walked Sarah Moon, elegant in a midnight-black gown that seemed to absorb light itself, and Jake Moon, whose casual designer clothing couldn't hide the predatory energy of a born killer.

The crowd's shock was palpable. Supernatural beings who had been laughing and drinking moments before now stood frozen like deer caught in headlights.

"The Moon family," someone breathed in absolute terror.

"What are they doing here?"

"The Moons never attend second-tier gatherings."

Richard Sterling's face went white as fresh snow, but his business instincts kicked in immediately. He rushed forward with Catherine beside him, both wearing their most diplomatic smiles.

"Victor! What an unexpected honor!" Richard extended his hand with practiced enthusiasm. "Welcome to our humble celebration. We're absolutely thrilled—"

Victor Moon walked past them as if they were furniture.

His eyes locked onto Marcus, who had paused near the exit with his hand on the crystal door handle. The entire ballroom held its breath as the most powerful supernatural patriarch in New York approached the man they'd all been mocking.

Jake told me he was here, Victor thought, studying Marcus's calm demeanor. We've been waiting for the right moment to intervene.

"Mr. Steele," Victor's voice carried the weight of absolute authority as he came to a stop three feet from Marcus. Then, to everyone's complete shock, Victor Moon—the man who made supernatural families disappear with a single phone call—offered a slight bow of respect.

"Would you honor me with your presence at my penthouse? Perhaps we could share some drinks and proper conversation."

The silence in the ballroom was so complete that people could hear their own heartbeats. Victor Moon was offering hospitality. Victor Moon was showing respect. To the man they'd all dismissed as a nobody.

Marcus turned slowly, his dark eyes studying Victor's face with casual indifference. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't particularly enjoy social visits."

The words hit the crowd like a physical blow. Someone actually gasped out loud.

He just... refused Victor Moon?

"Did he seriously just turn down the Moon family?"

"Is he completely insane?"

"Nobody refuses Victor Moon and lives to tell about it!"

Alexander Cross, who had been nursing his wounded pride near the bar, suddenly exploded with rage and confusion. His face flushed red as he pointed an accusing finger at Marcus.

"You arrogant piece of trash!" Alexander's voice cracked with fury. "How dare you disrespect Mr. Moon like that! Apologize right now, or I swear I'll destroy your pathetic life myself!"

The threat hung in the air like poison gas. Alexander Cross had just made a fatal mistake, and everyone knew it.

Marcus turned to face Alexander with the kind of calm that preceded earthquakes.

This insect threatened me. In front of witnesses. Again.

Without warning, Marcus moved with inhuman speed. His hand shot out, grabbed Alexander by his expensive silk tie, and yanked him forward so hard that the businessman's feet actually left the ground.

"What—" Alexander's protest was cut short as Marcus forced him to his knees on the marble floor.

The first slap cracked across Alexander's face like a gunshot, spinning his head to the right. The second slap snapped it back to the left. The third slap was delivered with such casual precision that Alexander's lip split and blood splattered across his designer shirt.

As Marcus delivered each blow, another wave of memories crashed through his consciousness. Endless battlefields stretching across dimensional barriers. Supernatural beings—gods, demons, ancient powers—all kneeling in surrender before his throne. The title they had whispered in terror and reverence: Marcus, the God of War.

Alexander knelt on the floor in complete humiliation, his face swelling and tears of rage and pain streaming down his cheeks.

"You bastard!" Diana's voice cut through the shocked silence like a blade. "What the hell is wrong with you? That was completely unnecessary!"

She rushed toward Alexander, her ice-blue eyes blazing with fury. "You're just a has-been trying to use violence to make yourself seem powerful! Apologize to Alexander right now!"

Diana helped Alexander to his feet, her protective gesture making her position clear. "The Cross family won't stand for this humiliation. They'll make you pay for what you've done."

Before Marcus could respond, Sarah Moon stepped forward with the fluid grace of a predator. Her voice carried the cold authority of someone who had grown up watching enemies disappear.

"Shut your mouth, you spoiled little princess," Sarah's words dripped with contempt. "Your boyfriend threatened our guest. He got exactly what he deserved."

The crowd recoiled as if Sarah had pulled out a weapon.

Diana's face flushed with anger. "How dare you—"

"How dare I what?" Sarah interrupted, her dark eyes glittering with dangerous amusement. "Tell the truth? You Sterlings throw your little parties and pretend you matter, but you're nothing compared to real power."

Sarah's voice grew colder with each word. "If you or the Cross family ever threaten Mr. Steele again, the Moon family will erase both your bloodlines from New York's supernatural community. Permanently."

The threat was delivered with such casual certainty that several guests actually stepped backward.

Richard Sterling, his diplomatic mask slipping, tried to salvage the situation. "Please, let's all calm down. Surely there's been some misunderstanding. Are you certain Mr. Steele isn't... deceiving you somehow?"

The question was barely out of his mouth when Victor Moon's gaze fixed on him with the intensity of a laser. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Sterling?" Victor's voice could have frozen fire.

Richard's face went pale as death. "No! No, of course not. I just—"

"Mr. Steele is our honored guest," Victor said, each word falling like a judge's gavel. "Anyone who insults him insults the Moon family directly."

He turned his attention to the crowd, his eyes sweeping over the terrified faces. "I suggest you all remember that lesson very carefully."

Then Victor looked back at Marcus, and his expression shifted to something almost like deference.

"Just say the word, Mr. Steele," Victor's offer carried the weight of absolute commitment. "The Cross family, the Sterlings, or anyone else who has offended you tonight—we can make them disappear from New York's supernatural community. Permanently."

The silence that followed was deafening. Every person in that ballroom suddenly understood a truth that shattered their previous assumptions:

Marcus Steele wasn't a nobody.

He wasn't a drifter or a con artist or a desperate man chasing wealth above his station.

He was someone powerful enough to command the respect and protection of New York's most feared supernatural family.

Who is this man? The question echoed through every mind in the room.