REVENGE OF JASON LUTHER

Chapter Nine: Declaring His Love

Jason let his gaze sweep across the room, taking in each laughing face, each contemptuous expression, each person who thought they were better than him. Then his eyes found Claire in the corner, still standing in the shadows, the only person in the room who wasn't laughing. The only person who looked uncomfortable with the mockery.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and something passed between them. Understanding, perhaps. Or recognition. Then Jason looked away, turning his attention back to Melissa.

"I'm here to sign the divorce papers," he said calmly, as if the last two minutes of ridicule hadn't happened. "Shall we proceed?"

Melissa's laughter died in her throat. She blinked, seeming to remember why Jason was actually there. "Oh. Right. The divorce." She arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "So what's stopping you? I gave you the papers earlier, remember?"

"The papers you gave me earlier were destroyed," Jason said evenly. "In the rain. After your security guards threw me out of the property."

Melissa's smile widened, and there was cruelty in it. "That's sad. Really, it is. But unfortunately for you, I'm not unprepared. I've been planning this divorce for months, Jason. Months. Do you really think I'd only have one copy?"

She turned and walked to a side table, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor with sharp, staccato precision. She opened a drawer and pulled out a thick manila folder, then returned to where Jason stood. She held it out to him, her smile never wavering.

"I have seven copies," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "All legally binding. All ready for your signature. I've been preparing for this divorce for a very long time. I'm so glad it's finally happening."

Jason took the folder without comment. He opened it and flipped through the pages, scanning the legal language without really reading it. He didn't care what the papers said. The marriage had been dead long before tonight. This was just making it official.

"I need a pen," he said.

Melissa pulled a gold pen from her pocket and handed it to him with a flourish. "Here. Sign away your claim to the Rotterdam name. Not that it was ever really yours."

Jason took the pen, walked to Marcus's desk, and spread the papers out on the polished surface. He clicked the pen open and began signing. His signature was steady, unhurried, each stroke deliberate. He signed page after page, initialing where required, dating where necessary, until finally he reached the last page and signed his name one final time.

Jason Luther.

Soon to be ex-husband.

He closed the folder and handed it back to Melissa. "It's done."

Melissa snatched the folder from Jason’s hands, gripping it tightly against her chest as if she had just won a hard-fought prize. A bright smile spread across her face, so wide it almost looked painful.

“Finally,” she breathed, her voice trembling with unmistakable relief. “Finally, I’m free of you.”

Jason watched her quietly.

Melissa glanced down at her left hand where a diamond ring glittered under the warm firelight. The stone sparkled brilliantly, reflecting tiny fragments of light across the room.

Jason recognized it instantly.

He remembered the endless overtime shifts.

He remembered skipping meals to save money.

He remembered the year of sacrifices it had taken just to buy that ring.

Back then, she had barely looked at it.

Melissa slowly twisted the ring off her finger. “You know,” she said casually, her tone dripping with disdain as she studied the diamond, “I always hated this thing.”

Jason said nothing.

Melissa flicked her wrist sharply and dropped the ring into his palm.

The metal was still warm from her skin.

“Take it back,” she said coldly, folding her arms across her chest. “It was always too cheap for my taste.”

Jason stared down at the ring resting in his hand.

Forty thousand dollars.

A year of exhaustion.

A year of hope.

Melissa turned her head toward Richard and immediately softened, her expression melting into something that looked almost affectionate.

“Richard bought me a real ring,” she said proudly, lifting her hand to display a massive diamond that flashed arrogantly under the lights. “Five carats,” she added smugly, her voice filled with pride. “Flawless.”

She tilted her hand so everyone could see it.

“It’s worth three times more than that piece of junk,” she continued with a dismissive laugh.

Richard smirked slightly.

“That’s what a real man gives his woman,” Melissa finished triumphantly, leaning comfortably against Richard’s chest.

Jason slowly closed his fingers around the old ring.

The small circle of metal felt strangely heavy.

Not because of its value.

Because of the memories attached to it.

“I’m glad this is finally over,” Melissa continued briskly, waving a dismissive hand toward the door. “You can leave now.”

Her eyes hardened.

“We have nothing more to say to each other.”

Jason lifted his gaze calmly. “I can’t leave yet,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

Melissa frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jason slipped the ring into his pocket. “There’s one more thing I need from this family.”

Mrs. Rotterdam’s face immediately twisted with irritation. She stood up sharply from her chair, her posture stiff with offended pride.

“If you’re here to ask for money, the answer is absolutely not,” she snapped harshly, glaring at him as if he had insulted her personally. “The Rotterdam family is not a charity, Mr. Luther. We do not give handouts to people who are no longer part of this family.”

She paused, then added coldly, “In fact, you were never truly part of this family.” Her hand waved dismissively toward him. “You were just… a temporary inconvenience.”

Jason cut her off calmly.

“I don’t need your money,” he said firmly, his voice quiet but resolute.

The room fell silent.

Everyone stared at him.

Even Claire slowly lifted her head from the corner of the room, surprise flickering across her face.

Marcus finally spoke, leaning back slightly in his chair as he studied Jason with careful interest. “Then what exactly do you want, Jason?” he asked coolly, tapping a finger lightly against the desk. “We don’t have all night. Say what you came to say so we can all move on.”

Jason did not answer immediately.

Instead, he walked calmly toward an empty leather chair near the fireplace.

He sat down slowly.

The chair was unbelievably soft, the kind of furniture that cost more than many people earned in half a year.

Jason crossed one leg over the other and adjusted his suit jacket with deliberate precision.

Then he looked around the room.

One by one.

Meeting every pair of eyes.

“For the past three years,” Jason began quietly, his voice steady but heavy with meaning, “I’ve lived in this mansion as part of your family, and during those three years, you made sure I understood exactly what my place was.”

His gaze shifted to Marcus.

“You charged me fifteen hundred dollars a month to sleep in a converted storage room,” he said flatly.

Marcus shifted slightly but remained silent.

Jason’s eyes moved across the room.

“You took most of my salary as ‘rent’ for the privilege of staying here,” he continued, his tone still controlled. “You mocked me at family dinners.”

His gaze paused briefly on Catherine.

“You excluded me from celebrations.”

Then Eleanor.

“You treated me like a servant who wasn’t even worthy of being a servant.”

Marcus leaned forward slightly, preparing to interrupt.

Jason raised one hand calmly.

“I’m not finished,” he said firmly.

For a moment, tension filled the room.

Then Marcus slowly leaned back again.

Jason continued.

“My love for Melissa,” he said quietly, turning his eyes toward his ex-wife, “died somewhere in the first year of our marriage.”

Melissa’s smile faded.

“Maybe it was the sixth month,” Jason continued thoughtfully, his tone distant, “when she threw my birthday gift into the trash because she said it wasn’t expensive enough.”

Melissa’s jaw tightened.

“Maybe it was the eighth month,” he went on calmly, “when she refused to visit my mother in the hospital because she said poor people’s illnesses were depressing.”

Richard frowned slightly.

“Or maybe it was the tenth month,” Jason finished quietly, “when she moved into a different bedroom because she said I ‘smelled like poverty.’”

The room grew colder.

Jason paused briefly.

Then he spoke again.

“I don’t know exactly when the love died,” he said calmly. “But it did die. And when it died, something else grew in its place.”

Everyone watched him carefully now.

Jason lifted his gaze.

“Love for someone else,” he said softly.

The room froze.

“Love for the only person in this house,” he continued quietly, “who ever treated me like I was human.”

His head slowly turned.

His eyes found Claire.

She stood near the window, half hidden in shadow.

Her eyes widened slowly.

Jason rose from the chair.

The sound of his footsteps echoed softly as he walked across the silent room.

He stopped directly in front of her.

They stood close enough that he could see the faint gold flecks in her brown eyes. Close enough to see the nervous pulse beating in her throat.

Claire looked stunned.

Jason looked directly at her.

Then he spoke clearly.

“I’m in love with Claire,” he said firmly, his voice carrying across the room.

Gasps echoed from several corners.

Jason did not look away from her.

“And I want to make her my wife,” he finished.