Saintess’s Worthless Husband Turned Dragon Commander

Chapter 3: Earthquake

She turned, sweeping her hair aside, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. Alexander fastened the necklace with careful fingers, his hands lingering just slightly too long on her shoulders.

"Perfect," he murmured. "Absolutely perfect."

Sophia touched the pendant, then turned and embraced him. The hug lasted three seconds too long to be merely friendly.

Marcus's vision blurred at the edges.

"To Alexander Grant!" Grandfather Sebastian's voice rang out again. "A true gentleman who knows quality when he sees it!"

Everyone rose. Glasses lifted. Voices joined in celebration of a man who wasn't family, wasn't even trying to be subtle about his intentions, but who everyone clearly preferred to the man Sophia had actually married.

Marcus remained seated at his forgotten table, hands clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white, nails digging crescents into his palms.

The party began winding down. Guests congratulated each other on a successful evening. Business cards exchanged hands. Plans were made for future gatherings.

Then Sophia stood, calling for attention. The room quieted instantly—a Saintess commanded respect through mere presence.

"Thank you all for celebrating Grandfather's birthday," she began, her voice clear and gracious. "Your presence means everything to our family. I especially want to thank Mother and Father for organizing this beautiful event, and Grandfather for allowing us to honor his remarkable life."

She continued through the list: thanking distant cousins for traveling, thanking business partners for their loyalty, thanking the staff for their excellent service.

"And finally," Sophia's voice softened, took on that warmth again, "I want to thank Alexander Grant for being my rock during difficult times. For his unwavering support, his brilliant mind, and his constant presence when I needed someone I could truly rely on."

The words hung in the air like a verdict.

She didn't mention Marcus. Not once. Didn't acknowledge his presence, his existence, his three years of enduring this family's contempt.

As if he wasn't even there.

The party dispersed. Guests filtered toward the exit. Marcus waited until the crowd thinned, then followed Sophia toward the private family wing.

He found her in the hallway, still wearing that crystal necklace Alexander had given her.

"Sophia."

She turned, her expression cooling the moment she saw him. "What?"

"Why?" The word came out hoarse. "Why are you treating me this way?"

"Treating you what way?" She crossed her arms. "I've given you everything, Marcus. A home, status, a place in one of the most powerful families in Eastmere State—"

"You didn't mention me," he interrupted. "In your speech. You thanked everyone except your husband."

"I made a sacred promise to Sophia," Sophia said, her voice hardening. "To protect her brother, to ensure he succeeds. Everything I do is to honor that vow. If you can't understand the importance of a Saintess's sacred duty, then you're even more common than I thought."

"What about your duty as a wife?"

"Don't you dare lecture me about duty!" Sophia's holy power crackled in the air, making the hallway lights flicker. "I've given you everything! What have you given me? You're unemployed, powerless, worthless! You contribute nothing while I build an empire! The least you can do is support my obligations to people who actually matter!"

The words hit like hammered nails, each one finding its mark with surgical precision.

Marcus stared at his wife—this cold, beautiful stranger who wore his wedding ring while calling another man invaluable—and something inside him snapped.

His vision went red.

With a roar that came from three years of swallowed rage, Marcus turned and stormed back into the banquet hall. The remaining guests looked up in alarm.

The dessert table still stood, pristine and perfect, loaded with crystal and fine china.

Marcus grabbed the edge and overturned it.

The crash was spectacular. Crystal shattered. China exploded across marble. Expensive desserts splattered like abstract art. Guests screamed and scrambled back.

Sophia rushed in, eyes wide. "Marcus, what are you—"

"If I'm worthless," he snarled, "then nobody celebrates!"

He spotted Alexander near the entrance, the man's perfect face showing shock for the first time all evening.

Marcus moved.

His fist crashed into Alexander's jaw with three years of accumulated fury behind it. The cultivator went down hard, not expecting a "common man" to have such strength.

Marcus didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Every punch released another memory—another humiliation, another dismissal, another moment of being invisible in his own marriage.

"Marcus, stop!" Sophia recovered, rushing forward. Her Saintess powers flared, golden light filling the hallway.

But she didn't pull Marcus away.

Instead, she threw herself over Alexander's body, shielding him with her own.

"Are you insane?!" she screamed, her eyes glowing with holy power. "You're hurting Sophia's brother! I promised to protect him!"

I promised to protect him.

The words echoed in the sudden silence.

Marcus stepped back, chest heaving, knuckles bleeding. He stared at his wife kneeling on the floor, protecting another man with her body and her powers, choosing Alexander over him with crystal clarity.

"And what about your promise to me?" Marcus asked quietly. "On our wedding day, you promised to honor me. To forsake all others. Remember?"

Sophia's face twisted with guilt and anger. "That was before I knew what you really were! Before I realized I married someone who would never amount to anything!"

The entire family stood frozen in doorways, watching this brutal dismantling of a marriage.

Marcus looked at his wife—really looked at her—and saw the truth he'd been avoiding for three years.

She'd never loved him. Maybe she'd convinced herself she had, maybe her Saintess intuition had shown her something she wanted to see. But whatever had brought them together had died long ago, suffocated under the weight of her family's contempt and her own growing resentment.

"I see," he said softly. "You've already made your choice."

Then the building began to shake.