RETURN OF THE LEGENDARY NORTHERN DRAGON

YOU LEAVE WITH NOTHING

Grayson's footsteps on the stairs sounded like a funeral march.

Gerald and Patricia waited at the bottom, smirking like wolves who'd just cornered wounded prey. They'd heard everything upstairs—Logan's laughter, Vanessa's dismissal, Grayson's pathetic retreat. Finally, the leech knew his place.

"Well?" Patricia's voice dripped satisfaction. "Finally realized you don't belong here?"

Grayson reached the bottom step. His face was blank, emptied of everything that made him human.

"Pack your rags and get out," Patricia continued, swirling her martini. "Tonight. Don't make us call the police to remove you like the vagrant you are."

Gerald chuckled, leaning against the banister. "I'll have someone box up your things. We'll leave them on the curb where they belong."

Grayson stopped walking. "I want a divorce."

The words dropped like stones into still water.

For three seconds, nobody moved. Then Gerald threw his head back and laughed so hard he had to grip the banister for support.

"A divorce!" He wiped tears from his eyes. "Oh, that's rich. Grayson, you poor stupid bastard, you should be grateful we're throwing you out. You think you have any leverage here?"

Patricia joined in, her laughter sharp as breaking glass. "Darling, you're doing us a favor. We were going to have our lawyers crush you anyway. This way you get to leave with a shred of dignity."

"Not much of one," Gerald added, still wheezing.

Footsteps echoed from above. Vanessa descended the staircase like a queen returning to her throne, Logan's arm wrapped possessively around her waist. She'd changed into a silk dress, fixed her hair, erased every trace of what Grayson had interrupted.

She looked radiant. Untouchable.

"Did I hear correctly?" Vanessa's smile could cut diamonds. "You want a divorce, Grayson? How convenient. I was planning to serve you papers next week."

She crossed to the mahogany desk in the corner, pulled open a drawer, and extracted a manila folder. The papers inside looked official, professional, expensive.

"Had my lawyer draft these three months ago," she said, dropping the folder on the entryway table. "Been waiting for the right moment. Thank you for making this easy."

Grayson picked up the documents. His eyes scanned the pages—each line a fresh knife wound.

Respondent Grayson Wells engaged in patterns of verbal and emotional abuse...

Respondent failed to provide financial support for the household...

Respondent's negligence and irresponsibility created an unsafe environment...

All lies. Carefully crafted lies that would protect her reputation while destroying whatever was left of his.

"You get nothing, obviously," Vanessa added, examining her nails. "No alimony, no property, no assets. You came into this marriage with nothing. You leave with nothing. Seems fair."

Logan stepped forward, that same insufferable smirk on his face. "Just sign it, Wells. Make this easy on yourself. Unless you want me to make a few calls, have my connections ensure you can't even get a dishwashing job in this city."

He leaned in closer, voice dropping to mock sympathy. "Your life is already miserable. Don't make me get creative."

Patricia snatched a pen from the desk and shoved it at Grayson. "Sign. Finally, you'll stop contaminating our home with your poverty stench."

Grayson took the pen. His hand didn't shake. Didn't hesitate.

He signed his name in three places—quick, efficient, final.

"It's done."

Vanessa lunged forward and ripped the papers from his hands, clutching them like a winning lottery ticket. Relief flooded her face. "Good. Now get out. Security will toss away whatever garbage you left in the guest room tomorrow. Don't even come back for it."

Gerald stepped closer, and before Grayson could react, spat at his feet. The saliva glistened on the marble floor between them.

"You were the worst mistake this family ever made," Gerald said, his voice pure venom. "Good riddance to trash."

Grayson walked toward the door. Each step measured. Controlled.

Behind him, Logan's voice rang out, triumphant and cruel. "Oh, and Wells? Thanks for keeping Vanessa's bed warm while I built my empire. You were a useful placeholder. Really appreciate it."

Grayson's hand closed around the door handle.

He paused. Didn't turn around. But something shifted in the air—something primal and terrible that made the temperature drop ten degrees in an instant.

Logan felt it first. The smugness drained from his face. His throat went dry. Every instinct he had screamed danger, though he couldn't explain why. He actually took a step backward, bumping into Vanessa.

Then the moment passed. Grayson opened the door and walked out into the night.

The door clicked shut behind him with devastating finality.

Vanessa shivered, rubbing her arms. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Logan's voice came out too high, too fast. He cleared his throat and forced a laugh. "He's just a broken loser who finally realized he's nothing. Forget him."

Patricia was already heading toward the liquor cabinet. "We should celebrate! Drinks and dinner. Toast to Vanessa's real engagement to a real man."

Gerald grabbed a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge. "Excellent idea. We're finally free of that parasite."

Logan pulled Vanessa close, but his hands trembled slightly. "To new beginnings."

The cork popped. Champagne fizzed into crystal glasses. They toasted, laughing, already forgetting the man they'd just destroyed.

Outside the mansion gates, Grayson stood in the rain. It had started falling without warning—cold, relentless, soaking through his delivery uniform in seconds. Thunder rumbled overhead like the sky was tearing itself apart.

He stared at the mansion's glowing windows. Three years of his life. Three years of swallowing poison because he'd thought he was honoring a sacred promise.

His mother had been wrong. Or he'd been wrong about Vanessa. Either way, the obligation was over.

Grayson pulled out his phone. Water droplets scattered across the screen. He typed a single word and hit send:

WITHDRAW.

One word. That's all it took.

Every contract he'd secretly secured. Every loan he'd guaranteed. Every competitor he'd destroyed to clear their path. Every miracle that kept Reed Industries afloat for three years—all of it vanished with that single command.

The phone buzzed immediately. His aide's response:

Confirmed. All protections removed. All support terminated. They're exposed.

Grayson pocketed the phone. Rain plastered his hair to his skull. Lightning split the sky, illuminating his face—and for just a moment, he didn't look like the broken delivery driver they'd mocked.

He looked like something ancient. Something dangerous. Something that had been holding itself back for far too long.

Inside the mansion, champagne flowed. Gerald's phone buzzed on the table—an incoming call from their bank's emergency line. He glanced at the screen and waved it off.

"Not tonight. Tonight we celebrate."

They raised their glasses, oblivious.

Grayson turned and walked into the storm. His figure disappeared into shadows and rain, swallowed by darkness and thunder. Behind him, the Reed mansion glowed bright and warm, full of people who had no idea their world was already ending.

The Dragon had held his fire for three years. Now he was done waiting.