2025-01-20 16:44:00The atmosphere in the Rolls-Royce was tense. Dylan sat in silence, his jaw clenched as the weight of his recent phone call with Jane lingered. Sensing his unease, John Nelson leaned forward, his face dark with anger.
“Young Master,” John said, his voice low and serious, “after hearing how your ex-wife treated you and Molly, I have to ask—should we reconsider this cooperation with her company? People like her don’t deserve your help.”
Dylan’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at John. “John, I'm always happy to help my wife's company. But now...Jane is not my wife anymore.”
His voice was calm, but his words carried a firm edge.
John nodded in understanding, his expression thoughtful. “I see.”
The convoy arrived at the grand entrance of the Royal Elysian Hotel, where a red carpet had been rolled out. Luxury cars lined the driveway, with elegantly dressed guests mingling outside.
John glanced at his granddaughter Helen, who had remained quiet the entire ride. Her shyness was evident, but John saw this as an opportunity to let her spend more time with Dylan.
“Helen,” John said gently, “why don’t you accompany the Young Master inside? I’ll handle the business side of things with Jane’s company for now.”
Helen’s cheeks flushed pink, but she nodded obediently. “Of course, Grandpa.”
John stepped out of the car first, flanked by several attendants. Dylan exited next, holding Molly’s hand, followed closely by Helen.
As John walked away with his aides, Dylan and Helen made their way into the hotel. The grandeur of the lobby was breathtaking—crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and marble floors gleamed under the warm lights.
But the moment they stepped inside, Dylan’s expression darkened. Across the lobby, Jane stood in an elegant emerald gown, her hair styled perfectly, her makeup immaculate. Beside her was a chubby man in a poorly fitted suit, whose gold watch seemed comically oversized for his wrist. His confident smirk gave him an air of self-importance that clashed with the sophistication of the surroundings.
Dylan sighed, hoping to avoid a confrontation, but Jane’s sharp eyes caught sight of him. Her expression twisted in anger, and she stormed toward him, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor.
“You!” Jane spat, pointing an accusing finger at Dylan. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby guests and security.
Dylan looked at Jane. He had never imagined that the kind girl he once deeply loved would turn out like this.
His jaw tightened, and he replied coolly, “I don’t think I owe you an explanation.”
Jane’s face turned red with fury. “Don’t lie to me! You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you? How else would a nobody like you end up in a place like this?”
Dylan sighed, his patience wearing thin. “Stalking you? Don’t flatter yourself. I was invited here by the Nelson family to have a meal.”
Jane let out a harsh laugh, loud enough to draw the attention of nearby guests, and the chubby man beside her joined in, his round belly shaking.
“By the Nelson family?” Jane sneered. “Dylan, do you hear yourself? The Nelsons don’t associate with people like you.”
The chubby man stepped forward, puffing out his chest, his smirk widening. “Is this your ex-husband, Jane? The one you told me about? He doesn’t look like much.”
Jane crossed her arms and sneered. “That’s him. Dylan Grenville. A broke, useless man with no status or money. He’s probably here to cause trouble.”
Dylan met Jane’s scornful gaze, his expression unchanging. “Believe what you want,” he said indifferently. “I have no reason to explain myself to you.”
The man still smirking said, “allow me to introduce myself. I’m Bobby Jackson, a billionaire entrepreneur and someone who’s very well-acquainted with the Nelsons. If you really were invited by them, I’d know.”
“In fact, I can call them right now and confirm whether you’re telling the truth.” He continued.
Dylan remained unfazed. “Believe what you want,” he repeated calmly.
Jane smirked, placing a hand on Bobby’s arm. “Bobby’s the one who helped me secure the cooperation with the Nelson family,” she said proudly. “You think you can compete with him? Don’t make me laugh.”
Around them, murmurs of admiration rose from onlookers.
“She’s with Bobby Jackson? Isn’t he one of the city’s richest men?”
“No wonder she’s so confident. Her ex-husband looks like a joke next to him.”
Dylan’s lips curled into a faint smile, but he said nothing.
Helen, who had been silent until now, couldn’t contain herself any longer. She suddenly burst into laughter, the sound light but unmistakably mocking.
It was so funny for Helen because she knew the Nelson family was only cooperating with Jane for Dylan's sake and now she was saying this nonsense.
Everyone turned to look at her. Jane’s eyes narrowed, and her voice dripped with venom. “And who is she? Your new girlfriend, Dylan? Is this why you’ve been acting so bold lately? Have you been cheating on me all along?”
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he silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until the sharp click of heels broke it. Every head turned. A woman in a sleek black dress stepped out from the shadows near the bar, her presence commanding in a way that made even Dylan’s exit feel incomplete.Her crimson lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.“Well,” she said, voice smooth as silk yet barbed with venom, “that was… entertaining.”The bartender stiffened. “Madam…” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry.She ignored him, her gaze settling on the man still crumpled on the floor. She tilted her head, studying him like one might examine a broken tool.“You’ve embarrassed us tonight,” she murmured. “I warned you to keep your vices hidden. But now…” Her smile sharpened. “…now the wrong man knows.”Gasps rippled through the room. Wrong man?The broken man whimpered, his voice cracking. “P-please… I didn’t mean—”Her hand shot up, silencing him instantly. She didn’t raise her voice, but the weight of her authority was
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The third slap landed with a sickening snap, echoing across the room like a warning bell. The man’s knees buckled entirely this time, and he crumpled forward, his forehead hitting the polished floor with a soft thud. A trickle of blood ran freely now from the split corner of his lip, mixing with the sweat beading on his temples. He gasped, shivering violently, completely undone.Dylan didn’t pause. He stood over him, tall and unwavering, the shadow of authority pressing down on everyone present. His voice, low and deliberate, cut through the murmurs like a blade.“You had your chance,” Dylan said, pacing slowly around the man as if circling prey. “Your lies. Your cruelty. Your arrogance. And yet you thought you could hide behind the faces of others. But masks always slip, don’t they?”The man tried to raise his head, to plead again, but Dylan’s gaze alone held him frozen. His arms hung limp at his sides, as if the will to resist had been crushed entirely.“You hurt someone who had no
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The man by the pillar swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as if every word he wanted to force out turned to stone in his mouth. His pride clashed with his fear. His fingers clenched against his thighs, nails biting into his skin.“I…” he croaked, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”The bartender stiffened, blinking rapidly. His lips parted, but no sound came out. It was almost too surreal.Dylan’s eyes narrowed. He raised his chin slightly, the movement deceptively lazy but steeped in authority. “Too soft. Say it again. With your chest. Let them all hear who you bow to when your mask cracks.”The man’s face burned red. A muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, but when Dylan tilted his head in that sharp, mocking way again, he caved.“I’M SORRY!” he shouted, the words tumbling out raw and ugly. His voice carried across the room, echoing off the walls. “I was wrong. I mocked without knowing. I–I shouldn’t have said it!”The bartender flinched, looking down at the counter, shame and discomf
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The room froze. The bow was not deep, but it was sharp, precise, and undeniable.The same people who had been laughing seconds ago now stared in stunned silence. The sound of a glass being set down too hard at the bar echoed like a gunshot.The man near the pillar shifted his weight, his face draining of color. “W–wait,” he stammered, his earlier confidence cracking. “You… you can’t be serious. He’s just—”“Enough,” the manager cut him off without even glancing his way. His voice carried the weight of authority, calm but absolute. “Mr. Grenville is not to be questioned.”The young bartender, who had whispered earlier, felt his throat close. His hands shook as he tried to polish a glass, but the cloth slipped from his fingers. He dared not meet Dylan’s eyes.Dylan finally slid his phone back into his pocket, his smirk widening just slightly. He didn’t look at the crowd, only at the man still bent before him. “Good,” he said quietly, as if the single word settled everything.The manager
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The tension in the room had barely begun to settle when a new layer of mockery surfaced.A man in a dark blazer, arms crossed, leaned forward slightly, his voice dripping with disdain. “Oh, look at him,” he said with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Grenville this, Grenville that. If you’re so important, why don’t you prove it? Or is this just all smoke and mirrors?”A few others around him chuckled, emboldened by his words.Dylan’s eyes flicked toward him lazily, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a smirk that was all predator. “Smoke and mirrors, you say?” His voice was soft, slow, deliberate. “Funny. I’ve never met a man so confident in his ignorance.”A young bartender, who had been trying to remain unnoticed by the drama, finally whispered under his breath, “Yeah, big talk for someone who just walks in and stares at us like he owns the place.”Dylan’s head snapped toward him, sharper than anyone could have expected. “Walks in? I glide in,” he corrected, his tone slic
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The words hit the lobby like a dropped glass. Conversations stuttered, laughter faltered, and even the clink of glasses from the bar seemed to still.The older receptionist blinked, her lips parting as if she wanted to retort but couldn’t find the words. Dylan’s gaze stayed on her, sharp and unwavering.“Tell me,” Dylan drawled, straightening and letting his hands rest lightly on the counter, “do you really believe a clipboard and a checklist give you more power than me? That a pen stroke decides who belongs here?” He let out a quiet chuckle, slow and mocking. “Adorable.”The tall man near the pillar scoffed, pushing off it with his shoulder. “Big words for someone who can’t even walk in without stuttering at reception.”Dylan’s head turned lazily toward him, eyes narrowing with the faintest glimmer of amusement. “Stuttering?” His smirk deepened. “You must be mistaking me for yourself, since the only thing I’ve heard from your mouth so far is the nervous laugh of a man desperate to be
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