RETURN OF THE GOD OF WAR

Love Can Be Learned

Helena sat on the edge of her bed, the silk sheets wrinkling under her as she shook with anger. The room that used to feel safe now seemed to close in on her. The perfect ivory walls and gold decorations only made her feel worse, as if they were mocking her. Her robe felt thin and useless, doing nothing to protect her from the shock she had just suffered.

John’s words kept echoing in her head like a curse: “He said we must have sex tonight.” It couldn’t be true. Her grandfather, strict and traditional but always protective, would never demand something so cruel and humiliating. And yet, his earlier threats were still fresh in her mind: exile, losing her inheritance, losing everything that made her Helena Morrison.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing hard. “This can’t be happening,” she whispered. “He’s lying… he has to be lying.” But a horrible doubt crept in. Tonight, her grandfather had seemed different; angry, almost wild, and it was all because of that man, John.

John, with his scars, tattoos, and mocking smirks. He wasn’t just a healer. The way he’d grabbed her wrist earlier, his knowledge about art, and the hints about his family’s power... there was more to him, something darker she wasn’t ready to face.

Minutes dragged by. She glanced at the clock; only nine minutes before he’d return. Panic shot through her. She jumped up and paced the room barefoot, ignoring her flip-flops by the door.

“I won’t do this,” she said firmly. “I won’t let him touch me. Grandfather can’t force me... not like this.” But deep inside, fear twisted in her stomach. The Morrison name meant everything. Without it, she would be nothing in a world that only respected power and family name.

She snatched her phone from the vanity, her fingers flying across the screen. She needed her mother; Clara would know what to do, would rally the family against this madness. The line rang once, twice, before Clara answered, her voice hushed and urgent. “Helena? What is it? Are you alright?”

“Mother, he’s here... in my room!” Helena’s words tumbled out in a frantic whisper, her free hand clutching the robe tighter. “John barged in, saw me… saw everything. And he said Grandfather sent him, that we have to... to sleep together tonight. That we must… have sex. It’s insane! Tell me it’s a lie, please!”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a moment of stunned silence. Then Clara’s voice hardened, laced with fury. “That bastard. I’ll kill him myself. Helena, listen to me... your grandfather would never say that. This John is twisting things, manipulating you to break your spirit. Don’t let him in your head.”

“But what if it’s true?” Helena’s voice cracked, tears welling up again. “Grandfather’s lost his mind tonight. The way he threatened exile… Mother, I can’t do this. I won’t!”

“You won’t,” Clara said firmly, her tone like steel. “Lock your door. Stay put. I’m coming to you right now, and I’m bringing your father. We’ll confront the old man together. This ends tonight.”

Helena nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see, a surge of relief washing over her. “Hurry. He said he’d come back in ten minutes.”

“I’m on my way,” Clara replied, and the line went dead.

Helena tossed the phone onto the bed, her heart racing. She rushed to the door, twisting the lock with a satisfying click. For a moment, she leaned against it, her forehead pressing into the cool wood, trying to steady her breathing. “You won’t touch me,” she whispered fiercely. “Not tonight, not ever.”

But as the seconds ticked by, doubt crept back in. What if John broke the door down? He had the strength; she’d felt it in his grip. And Grandfather… if he truly wanted this, would he side with John over her? The thought made her stomach churn. She paced again, her mind flashing to memories of her childhood; Grandfather’s stern but loving guidance, teaching her to navigate the cutthroat world of business with grace and ruthlessness. He’d always called her his shining star. How had it come to this?

A sudden knock shattered the silence. Helena froze, her blood turning to ice.

“Time’s up,” John’s voice came through the door, low and commanding. “Open up, or I’ll do it myself.”

“Go away!” she shouted, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her throat. “I’m not coming out, and you’re not coming in!”

There was a pause, then a low chuckle that sent chills down her spine. “You really think a lock will stop me? Your grandfather gave me orders, Helena. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Harder for who?” she snapped back, her anger flaring. “You? The fraud who’s turned my family against me? I know what you are, John... you’re a liar, a manipulator. My mother’s on her way, and when she gets here, we’ll expose you for the scum you are!”

Another pause, longer this time. Then, his voice, closer now, as if he were leaning against the door. “Expose me? That’s cute. You have no idea who you’re dealing with, princess. I didn’t ask for this any more than you did, but I honor my debts. Master Liang saved me, and your grandfather owes him. This marriage, this night... it’s part of that.”

“Part of what?” Helena demanded, her ear pressed to the door, listening for any sign of him forcing entry. “Some twisted deal? You think I’ll just submit because of some old man’s promise? You’re delusional!”

The knob rattled, and her heart leaped into her throat. “Open the door, Helena,” he said, his tone shifting from mocking to something darker, more impatient. “Or I’ll show you exactly how delusional I’m not.”

Before she could respond, multiple footsteps echoed down the hallway. Clara’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “Step away from that door, you brute!”

John’s presence shifted; Helena could almost feel him straightening, turning to face the newcomers. “Mrs. Morrison,” he said calmly, as if nothing were amiss. “And Mr. Morrison. Come to join the party?”

Darrell’s voice boomed, laced with fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, harassing my daughter in her own room? Get away from there before I have you removed permanently.”

John laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. “Removed? By who? You? Or the guards who answer to your father? He sent me here. If you have a problem, take it up with him.”

“We will,” Clara snapped, her heels clicking as she approached. “But first, you’re leaving. Helena, open the door, darling. It’s us.”

Helena twisted the lock and flung the door open, relief flooding her as she saw her parents standing there, faces etched with determination. Darrell had his phone in hand, no doubt ready to call security, while Clara’s eyes blazed with maternal protectiveness. John stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but for a faint flicker of amusement.

“See?” John said, gesturing lazily. “Family reunion. How touching.”

Darrell stepped forward, his face inches from John’s. “You listen to me, you lowlife. I don’t care what my father says—you lay a hand on my daughter, and I’ll end you myself. Debts or no debts.”

John didn’t flinch, his eyes locking onto Darrell’s with a predator’s calm. “Big words from a man who hides behind his daddy’s money. But go ahead. In fact, try your best. I’ve faced worse than a spoiled executive with a temper.”

Clara pulled Helena into her arms, shielding her. “Enough. John, leave. Now. We’re going to speak with the Grandmaster.”

John held Darrell’s gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. The old man’s mind is set.” He turned, his boots thudding down the hallway, but paused at the corner, glancing back. “And Helena? Sweet dreams.”

As he disappeared, Helena sagged against her mother, her body shaking. “He said… he said Grandfather wants us to—to…”

“We know,” Clara interrupted gently, guiding her back into the room. “We heard. It’s not happening. Come, let’s go confront him together.”

Darrell nodded, his jaw set. “This madness ends tonight.”

The three of them moved down the hallway, a united front against the storm brewing in the Morrison estate. But as they approached the Grandmaster’s study, a servant intercepted them, his face pale. “Master Darrell, the Grandmaster… he’s not to be disturbed. He’s with John.”

Darrell’s eyes widened. “With John? Already?”

The servant nodded nervously. “And he left strict orders—no interruptions.”

Helena’s legs felt heavy as her mother led her back to her bedroom. The big oak doors shut behind them with a loud thud that matched how shaken she felt inside. Her mother kept an arm around her, holding her steady, while her father, Darrell followed, his face tight with anger.

“Sit down, darling,” Clara urged softly, leading Helena to the edge of the four-poster bed. Helena sank onto the satin covers, her robe slipping slightly as she buried her face in her hands once more. Tears welled up again, hot and unbidden, but she fought them back, refusing to crumble completely in front of her parents.

Darrell paced the room like a caged lion, his polished shoes scuffing the plush carpet. “This has gone too far,” he growled, his voice low and vibrating with rage. “Father’s lost his damn mind. Forcing you into this… this farce with that thug? And now sending him to your room like some medieval lord? I won’t stand for it. We need to confront him now, before this escalates any further.”

Clara nodded, her elegant features set in a determined line as she knelt beside Helena, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Your father’s right. We can’t let this slide. That man is poison. Barging in here, making those vile demands… it’s unacceptable. We’ll go to your grandfather together, make him see reason. He’s always listened to family before.”

Helena lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed but fierce. “But what if he doesn’t, Mother? You heard him in the living room—he threatened to exile me, to strip away everything. And John… he said Grandfather ordered us to… to…” Her voice faltered, the words too humiliating to repeat fully. “To consummate this nightmare tonight. Like I’m some pawn in their twisted game. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

Darrell stopped pacing, turning to face them with his fists clenched at his sides. “He wouldn’t dare. You’re his blood, Helena. His favorite. This has to be that bastard John’s doing... twisting Father’s words to suit his own sick agenda. I’ll drag the truth out of him if I have to.”

Clara rose, her gown rustling as she placed a reassuring hand on Darrell’s arm. “We need to be smart about this. Storming in there half-cocked could make things worse. Let’s gather our thoughts... perhaps call the family lawyers first, get them on standby. If Father’s judgment is compromised, we can argue incapacity. The board won’t stand for this kind of instability.”

Helena nodded weakly, drawing strength from their unity. “Yes… yes, we have to. But hurry. John said he’d come back if I didn’t open the door. He’s… he’s not normal, Father. The way he moves, the things he knows... it’s like he’s hiding something big. We need to find out who he really is before it’s too late.”

Darrell’s expression softened as he knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “We will, sweetheart. I promise you that. No one touches my daughter without consequences. By morning, we’ll have investigators tearing apart his past. If there’s dirt—and there always is with men like him—we’ll bury him in it.”

Before Helena could say anything, the door suddenly swung open hard, making the hinges creak. John walked in first, wearing his gray shirt and jeans, looking as bold as always, his cap casting a shadow over his bearded face. Right behind him was Grandmaster Morrison, leaning on his cane but walking with surprising energy after John had healed him. The old man’s eyes were sharp, and his face showed clear impatience and authority.

The room fell silent, the air thickening with shock. Helena’s heart leaped into her throat, her hands instinctively pulling the robe tighter around her. Clara shot to her feet, her face flushing with indignation, while Darrell rose slowly, his body tensing like a coiled spring.

“What is the meaning of this?” Darrell demanded, his voice booming as he positioned himself between his family and the intruders. “Barging into my daughter’s room like common thugs? Father, have you completely lost your senses?”

Grandmaster Morrison’s gaze swept the room, landing on each of them with the weight of decades of unchallenged power. “Watch your tone, Darrell,” he said, his voice low but resonant, echoing like a judge’s gavel. “I am still the head of this family, and you will remember that. John is here on my orders, as is this visit.”

Clara stepped forward, her eyes blazing. “Orders? To harass Helena in her own bedroom? This is beyond the pale, Father. She’s told us what John claims you demanded—that they… that they sleep together tonight, in every sense. Is this true? Have you truly sunk so low as to force your granddaughter into such degradation?”

The Grandmaster’s expression didn’t soften, but a flicker of something—perhaps regret—crossed his eyes as he looked at Helena, who sat rigid, her face pale but defiant. John, meanwhile, leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with that infuriating calm, as if the drama were a mildly entertaining play.

“I did not demand they have sex tonight,” the Grandmaster clarified, his tone measured, though it carried an undercurrent of steel. “That would be premature. But after the engagement banquet in seven days, yes, they will consummate the union. It is necessary to seal the bond, to ensure the legacy continues without question. And no one... no one in this family, will stop it. This marriage is not just a whim; it is a debt repaid, a promise fulfilled to Master Liang, the man who foresaw my salvation and sent John to deliver it.”

Helena’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in horror. “Grandfather, please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking for the first time. “You can’t mean this. I’m your granddaughter... not some bargaining chip! I don’t love him. I hate him! How can you force me into this?”

The old man’s gaze softened fractionally as he regarded her, but his resolve didn’t waver. “Love can grow, Helena, or it can be learned. This is about more than your feelings... it’s about the family’s future. John is no ordinary man; he carries power that will protect us all. You will see that in time.”

Darrell exploded, his face reddening as he took a step forward. “Protect us? From what? This is madness, Father! You’re handing Helena over to a stranger; a man we know nothing about! If you think I’ll stand by while you ruin her life—”

“Enough!” Grandmaster Morrison roared, slamming his cane against the floor with a crack that reverberated through the room. The sound silenced Darrell mid-sentence, his words dying in his throat as the old man’s eyes blazed with authority. “You forget your place, son. I built this empire from nothing, and I will not see it weakened by your shortsightedness. Helena will follow John to the jade room now. They will stay together from this night onward. It is decided.”

Helena rose to her feet, her legs unsteady, tears streaming down her face. “No… please, Grandfather. Don’t do this to me.”

The Grandmaster’s expression remained firm, though a hint of sorrow flickered in his eyes. “It is for your own good, child. Go with him. Now.”

John pushed off the doorframe, his voice calm but commanding. “Let’s go, Helena. Don’t make this uglier than it has to be.”

Clara moved to block the way, her voice trembling with defiance. “Over my dead body. She’s not going anywhere with you.”

But the Grandmaster raised his cane, pointing it like a scepter. “Stand aside, Clara. Or face the consequences alongside her.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the family frozen in a tableau of conflict. Helena’s gaze darted between her parents and her grandfather, her world fracturing further. Darrell’s hands shook with restrained rage, but he didn’t move, the weight of his father’s authority too great to defy outright.

Finally, Helena stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go,” she said, wiping her tears. “But know this, Grandfather—I’ll never forgive you for this.”

The old man nodded solemnly. “In time, you will understand.”