2025-10-17 18:35:22Jessica’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.
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Chapter 184
The decision was sealed the moment Alexander nodded.For a brief second, silence swallowed the living room. No one spoke. No one questioned what had just been agreed upon. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, as though the room understood that something irreversible had been set in motion.Victor was the first to move.He reached for his phone without ceremony, his expression calm, almost bored, as if this were nothing more than a routine business call. There was no flicker of doubt in his eyes, no hesitation in his hands. Men like Victor had long ago learned to separate consequence from conscience. When power ruled, morality became something flexible—something adjusted when it became inconvenient.He stepped away from the group, turning his back slightly as he dialed a number saved without a name.The phone rang once.Twice.Then the call connected.“Cole,” Victor said evenly. “We have a job.”Miles away, Cole Riven leaned back in his chair, one boot propped against the edge of
Chapter 183
Alexander’s living room slowly regained its earlier rhythm, though the tension never fully left. The sharp scent of spilled wine still hung stubbornly in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of polished wood and expensive cologne. Somewhere outside, a car passed, its tires hissing softly against the road, a reminder that the world beyond these walls continued as normal. Inside, however, something had shifted. His friends drew closer together, their movements subtle but instinctive, as though proximity alone might restore the confidence that had cracked moments earlier.The shattered glass on the marble floor had been pushed aside, but the dark stain of wine remained, an unspoken reminder of how quickly certainty could break.One of them, Victor, was the first to speak. He leaned back against the arm of the couch, crossing his arms with a scoff that sounded deliberately casual. “Honestly, Alex, those men were never up to the task,” he said dismissively. “You trusted the wrong people.
Chapter 182
Alexander froze where he stood. For a split second, he was convinced the voice coming from his phone was distorted, that the words had twisted themselves into something nonsensical. His mind rejected them outright. The laughter that had filled the room only moments earlier died instantly, cut off as if someone had slammed a door shut. The air felt heavier and charged. “What did you just say?” Alexander asked slowly. His tone was deceptively calm, too controlled, the kind of calm that came just before something broke. His eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened around the phone until his knuckles paled. “Repeat yourself.” On the other end of the line, the man hesitated. Alexander could hear labored breathing, uneven and strained, and beneath it, the faint, unmistakable sound of pain being suppressed. “Sir…” the man began, then paused, as if bracing himself. “I said Brandon Scott defeated us.” Alexander blinked. Once. Twice. Then he laughed. It was a short, disbelieving so
Chapter 181
Alexander lounged in his sprawling living room. The scent of expensive wine mingled with the faint aroma of freshly lit candles, creating an atmosphere of leisure and indulgence, the kind that suggested nothing in the world could disturb the man who ruled this space. He sat back comfortably in his plush leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, a deep burgundy glass of aged wine resting loosely in his hand. He swirled the liquid slowly, watching the wine cling to the sides of the glass as though savoring the ritual more than the drink itself. Around him, his closest friends laughed lightly, their voices blending with the soft hum of background music. Their chatter echoed off the high walls, filled with careless amusement and easy confidence, but Alexander’s mind was not fully with them. He was already looking ahead. “Tonight,” he began at last, his voice smooth and controlled, cutting through the laughter with effortless authority. The room grew quieter as his friends
Chapter 180
Brandon’s eyes flicked rapidly across the room as the men lunged toward him. Yet, deep within him, a memory stirred—a memory of years spent learning the fundamentals of martial training. He hadn’t practiced seriously in a long time, letting time and comfort dull the edge of his skill, but it had never left him entirely. And now, it was as though the universe had presented him with the perfect test. The first man swung a massive fist toward Brandon’s head. He ducked instinctively, feeling the rush of air as the man’s punch missed by inches. His body reacted on memory alone. With a swift motion, Brandon jabbed upward with his elbow, striking the attacker’s shoulder in a precise, controlled motion. The man grunted, staggered slightly, but Brandon didn’t pause. He shifted his weight, spinning around to deliver a calculated kick that caught another man approaching from the side. The force wasn’t meant to maim, but it threw the attacker off balance, and he crashed into the wall with a loud
Chapter 179
Brandon’s words barely finished echoing in the room when the men burst into laughter. It wasn’t the kind of laughter that carried humor or lightness. It was sharp, mocking, filled with certainty and contempt, a sound that sliced through the tense air like a jagged blade. It bounced off the walls of the bedroom, ricocheting from the ceiling and hard wooden floors, making the space feel suddenly smaller, tighter, as though the walls themselves were closing in. Each echo seemed to press down on Brandon’s shoulders, but he refused to show fear. “Missed our way?” the man closest to Brandon repeated, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, his voice thick with derision. “You really think we walk into a house without knowing exactly where we’re going?” Another man shook his head slowly, a smirk twisting his features. “That’s what happens when someone lives too comfortably. You forget the world doesn’t always knock before it enters.” Brandon’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expre
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