THE BASTARD SON IS REAL HEIR

CHAPTER 9

The grand hall remained frozen in shocked silence. Two hundred guests stood like statues, their minds unable to process what their eyes had just witnessed.

Marcus Romano—Senior Regional Director of Harper Group Holdings, a man who controlled billions in assets, who could topple companies with a single phone call—was bowing to the woman they'd all been mocking moments ago.

Vittorio Kyler lay sprawled on the marble floor, blood streaming from his nose, his expensive suit rumpled and torn. His hand trembled as he touched his face, feeling the swelling already beginning.

"Mr. Marcus..." Vittorio's voice came out cracked, confused, desperate. "Why... why did you hit me?"

Marcus didn't even glance in Vittorio's direction. His entire focus remained fixed on Priya, his body still bent in a respectful bow, his face pale with genuine terror.

"Miss Harper, please," Marcus's voice shook. "I had no idea you were present. No one informed me that someone of your... of your stature would be attending. If I had known—if I had any indication—I would never have spoken so disrespectfully!"

Priya's expression remained cold, unmoved. She didn't acknowledge his apology, didn't even look at him.

"Mr. Marcus!" Vittorio struggled to his feet, his legs unsteady. "Please, I don't understand! What's happening? Why are you—"

"Shut up," Marcus hissed without turning. "Don't speak. Don't even breathe."

"But I'm your partner!" Vittorio's voice rose with panic. "We're signing the agreement tonight! The Harper-Kyler partnership! You can't just—"

"I said SHUT UP!" Marcus's roar echoed through the hall.

The crowd flinched collectively.

Isabella rushed to her husband's side, her face a mask of confusion and dawning horror. "Mr. Marcus, please explain! We don't understand! Who is this woman? Why are you treating her with such... such..."

She couldn't finish. The word wouldn't come.

Marco's earlier bravado had evaporated completely. He stood frozen, his bandaged nose forgotten, his eyes darting between Marcus's bowing form and Priya's cold, indifferent expression.

"Mr. Marcus," Giulia spoke up, her voice carefully controlled despite the shock in her eyes. "Surely there's been some misunderstanding. This woman came here with Arjun—a disgraced, homeless—"

"Do NOT speak her name carelessly," Marcus interrupted, his voice dropping to something dangerous. "Do not speak TO her. Do not even LOOK at her directly unless she permits it!"

The crowd erupted in panicked whispers.

"Who is she?" "What's her identity?" "Why is Marcus so terrified?" "She must be incredibly powerful!"

Priya finally moved, ignoring Marcus completely as if he were nothing more than furniture. Her eyes found Arjun's, and her expression softened—just slightly—into something almost warm.

"Come," she said gently, taking his hand in hers. "Don't waste your energy on trash like this. They're not worth your time." Her smile was cold as winter. "They'll get exactly what they deserve. I promise you that."

Her fingers intertwined with his, and she began walking toward the VIP lounge at the far end of the hall—a private area reserved only for the most distinguished guests.

The crowd parted before them like water, guests practically throwing themselves aside to clear a path.

Arjun walked beside her, his expression calm, his posture radiating a quiet confidence that made him seem completely different from the broken man who'd fled this house two days ago.

As they passed Giulia, Priya paused for just a heartbeat.

"You," Priya said softly, her voice like silk over razors. "You called yourself lucky to have moved on. To have found someone better." She glanced at Marco with undisguised contempt. "How tragic that your definition of 'better' is so... pathetically low."

Giulia's cold mask cracked further, her ice-blue eyes widening with something approaching fear.

Priya didn't wait for a response. She and Arjun continued walking, their footsteps echoing across the marble floor.

Giulia's cold mask cracked further, her ice-blue eyes widening with something approaching fear.

Priya didn't wait for a response. She and Arjun continued walking, their footsteps echoing across the marble floor.

The VIP lounge doors—massive oak panels carved with intricate designs—swung open automatically. The elite space beyond glowed with soft golden light, leather furniture, and priceless artwork adorning the walls.

They disappeared inside.

The doors closed with a finality that felt like a judgment.

For three seconds, nobody moved.

Then Vittorio exploded into motion, rushing toward Marcus with desperate energy. "Mr. Marcus! Please! You have to explain! What's going on? Who is that woman? Why are you—"

"Why am I WHAT?" Marcus whirled on him, his professional composure completely shattered. His face was red, veins bulging in his neck. "Why am I terrified? Why am I apologizing? Why am I treating her like royalty?"

"Yes!" Vittorio grabbed Marcus's arm. "We're partners! We're about to sign the—"

Marcus backhanded him.

The slap was harder than the first, sending Vittorio crashing back to the floor. Isabella screamed. Marco lunged forward to help his father but stopped when Marcus's murderous glare fixed on him.

"Partners?" Marcus's laugh was hysterical, unhinged. "You think we're PARTNERS? You stupid, arrogant, ignorant FOOL!"

"Mr. Marcus, please!" Isabella begged. "We don't understand! Just tell us who she is!"

"Who is she?" Marcus's voice rose to a roar. "She's untouchable. She's beyond your comprehension. She's so far above you that you don't even register as insects to her!"

The crowd's whispers exploded into shocked exclamations.

"Oh God, we mocked her—"

"We called her his sugar mama—"

"We're dead. We're all dead."

Vittorio struggled to his knees, blood dripping from his face onto the marble. "But... but you said... you said the partnership was—"

"The partnership?" Marcus laughed again, the sound completely devoid of humor. "You actually think there's still a partnership? After what you've done? After what I just witnessed?"

"We didn't do anything!" Isabella shrieked. "We were just defending our family! Our son! We didn't know—"

"That's your defense?" Marcus's voice dropped to something cold and lethal. "You didn't know? You hired thugs to vandalize graves. You threw people out like garbage. You mocked, insulted, and assaulted someone in front of a woman who could end your entire existence with one word. And your defense is that you didn't know WHO she was?"

"But how were we supposed to know!" Marco's voice cracked. "That woman never said who she was! Arjun never told us he knew someone so powerful!"

"It shouldn't MATTER!" Marcus roared. "The Harper Group doesn't partner with families who hire criminals! Who desecrate graves! Who abuse people for entertainment! Even if that young man had been nobody—nothing—and even if that woman had been a complete stranger—what you did would still be unforgivable!"

Vittorio's face had gone from red to gray. "Mr. Marcus, please. We can fix this. We can apologize. We can—"

"Fix this?" Marcus's laugh was bitter. "You can't fix this. I can't fix this. This is beyond fixing. This is..." He ran his hands through his hair, leaving it wild, disheveled. "Do you understand what you've done? Do you comprehend the magnitude of your actions?"

"We'll make it right!" Vittorio crawled forward on his knees. "Please! Give us a chance! We'll do anything! Anything at all!"

"Anything?" Marcus's expression twisted with contempt. "Then go back in time and don't be monsters. That's the only thing that might save you now."

"Mr. Marcus—" Vittorio reached for his leg.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Marcus kicked his hand away viciously. "If you want to die, fine! Throw yourself off a bridge! Drink poison! But don't—DO NOT—drag me down with you!"

He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed. "Security! I need a full security team in the grand hall IMMEDIATELY! Code Red situation!"