THE CASTAWAY HEIR: POWER UNSEEN

CHAPTER 11

Jessica’s palms were clammy.

The longer she stood there, the more suffocating the laughter and whispers became.

She could feel the eyes of half the ballroom fixed on her—former business partners, rivals, investors—all people who once spoke her name with respect.

Now, those same eyes regarded her with poorly disguised ridicule.

Her chest tightened. Why did Brandon bring her here?

She turned her gaze toward Brandon, hoping for some explanation, but his face was unreadable.

She wanted to ask what he was thinking, why they were here, and whether they even had passes to attend the Bell-Ringing Banquet—but her voice caught in her throat.

The murmurs were growing louder.

“There’s no way that woman could be invited.”

“She’s the bankrupt CEO, isn’t she? Jessica Marion."

"What a fall from grace!”

“Look at her—she can’t even lift her head.”

Jessica clenched her hands together, wishing she could vanish into the ground.

Her throat ached from the humiliation pressing against it.

Tugging lightly at Brandon’s sleeve, she whispered urgently, “Let’s just go, Mr Scott. Please. We don’t belong here.”

But Brandon didn’t move. His posture remained straight.

The indifference in his calm made her feel even more anxious. Her heart hammered faster.

Just then, the security guard, a broad man in a dark uniform, approached them with an air of authority.

“Excuse me, sir, ma. I’ll need to see your passes,” the guard said gruffly.

Jessica’s stomach sank. She wanted to pull Brandon away before he could embarrass himself further. But Brandon spoke first, with a cool and measured voice.

“I don’t have one,” he said simply.

The guard blinked, clearly taken aback by his bluntness.

“You… don’t have one?”

Brandon’s expression didn’t change. “No. Because I don’t need a piece of paper to prove my identity.”

Like the strike of a match, laughter ignited across the hall.

“Unbelievable!” someone shouted.

“This guy’s insane!”

The guard doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly choked.

“Oh, that’s rich!” he sputtered between fits of laughter.

“You don’t need one? That’s a new one! What’s next—should I call the host of the banquet to come escort you inside personally?

Maybe one of the sponsors should hand you the mallet for the bell-ringing, huh? Would that be worthy of someone as ‘distinguished’ as you?”

The crowd exploded with laughter.

Jessica’s face burned and her ears rang with the sound of mocking voices.

She could hardly bear to look up.

Just then, she saw Sophia watching with undisguised delight. Her arm was linked with Ryan’s and her smugness radiated like perfume.

Jessica’s humiliation deepened.

But Brandon didn’t flinch, instead his voice was cold and composed.

“Do exactly as you said.”

The laughter faltered.

The guard blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What—what did you say?”

“I said,” Brandon repeated evenly, “do exactly as you suggested. Call the host. Bring the sponsor. I’ll wait.”

The guard’s amusement turned to irritation.

His face darkened and his earlier grin faded into a snarl.

“You think this is funny, huh? You’re unbelievable! If you’re crazy, go get treatment! Don’t come here pretending to be someone important.”

The tension in the air thickened. Some of the guests laughed again, amazed at Brandon's foolishness.

“Get lost!” the guard barked, shoving forward.

“I don’t have time for delusional nobodies.” He raised his baton threateningly.

“If you don’t leave now, I’ll—”

But before he could finish, his wrist was seized in midair.

The baton clattered to the marble floor with a sharp clang.

The guard froze, startled.

He turned to see who had seized his wrist, but the moment his eyes met the figure, color drained from his face.

Standing behind him was a man in a perfectly tailored suit. His expression was dark and thunderous.

“Do you have any idea who you just raised your hand against?” the man demanded.

The guard swallowed hard.

“I—I was just doing my job—”

“Your job?” the man snapped.

“Your job is to maintain order, not to humiliate guests! All the funding this event receives every year—is it to pay people like you to abuse others?”

The man’s voice carried easily through the hall.

Everyone recognized him.

He was Kelly Henderson, one of the key sponsors of the banquet—a high-ranking investor and a man whose name commanded respect in every circle.

The guard stammered, trembling now.

“Sir, I… I didn’t know—”

“Clearly,” The sponsor’s glare hardened.

Then, without another glance at the terrified guard, he turned toward Brandon and bowed slightly.

“Mr. Scott, I sincerely apologize for the embarrassment,” he said in a respectful tone, “this way, sir.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The same people who had been laughing a moment ago now stood still, their faces changing from mockery to shock.

Sophia’s fake smile faltered, but she quickly pulled herself together and stepped forward with a forced laugh.

“Wait, this must be some misunderstanding,” she said sweetly.

“That man is my ex-husband. Just a useless live-in son-in-law. Why would a man of your status personally come out to welcome someone like him?”

The sponsor turned slowly to face her, his expression cold and disdainful.

“Miss,” he said icily, “it seems your information is outdated.”

Sophia’s eyes widened slightly.

“Outdated?”

“That’s right,” the sponsor continued.

“Starting today, every bell-ringing ceremony will feature an additional honorary guest of public welfare—a representative of those who contribute to the well-being of our people and the future of our industries.”

He paused deliberately, his gaze sweeping the room before landing squarely on Brandon.

“And Mr. Brandon Scott,” he said, “is tonight’s honorary guest.”

A stunned hush fell over the hall.

Sophia’s breath caught.