THE DISCARDED SON-IN-LAWS GOD-LEVEL DOMINION SYSTEM

The banquet hall of the whitmore family burned with golden light.

Three hundred rich people filled the big room. Women in long bright dresses laughed behind their hands. Men in dark suits held wine glasses high and talked about money and power. The air smelled of heavy perfume and roasted meat. Soft music played from speakers near the ceiling. Crystal chandeliers hung above the tables and threw light across polished floors. Everything looked perfect on the outside.

Ethan Cross stood near the back wall. He wore a cheap black suit that did not fit him well. The sleeves were a little short. The collar felt tight around his neck. His black hair was neat, but his face looked tired. Dark circles sat under his eyes. No one spoke to him. No one offered him a drink. No one looked at him with respect. A waiter passed close by and did not even glance at him.

This was his third wedding anniversary.

He had cleaned the floors of this house for three years. He had taken every insult without fighting back. He had stayed quiet when people called him a parasite. He had forced a smile when they laughed at his face. He had woken early to make breakfast and stayed late to fix small things around the house. All because he believed Vanessa would one day see his true worth.

Tonight that belief died in front of three hundred people.

Vanessa Whitmore walked up the small stage in the middle of the hall. She wore a deep red dress that shone under the lights. Her long black hair fell over one shoulder. She held a microphone in one hand and smiled at the crowd. The smile was bright and false. Several guests raised their glasses toward her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said in a clear, sweet voice. "Thank you for coming tonight. Today is a special day for me."

People clapped. The sound was polite and empty.

Ethan watched her. His hands stayed still at his sides. His heart beat hard in his chest. He could feel every eye in the room starting to turn toward him. Sweat formed on his back under the cheap suit.

Vanessa looked straight at him. Her eyes were cold and empty of love.

"Three years ago, I married this man," she said and pointed one finger at Ethan. "I thought he would change. I thought he would become useful. I thought love could fix a useless man. But he is still the same. No job. No money. No future. He lives in my family house like a dog that refuses to leave."

A few people laughed softly. The sound cut through the room like a sharp knife. More people turned to look at Ethan. Some covered their mouths. Others did not even try to hide their joy. A woman near the front whispered something to her friend and both of them smiled.

Heat rose in Ethan's chest. His jaw tightened until it hurt. He forced his face to stay calm. He would not give them the pleasure of seeing him break in public. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, then slowly opened again.

Vanessa continued. Her voice grew stronger and more confident. "Tonight I end this joke of a marriage. From this moment, I divorce Ethan Cross. He is nothing to me anymore. He was never anything to me."

The hall went quiet for one full second. Then people started to whisper. Some looked at Ethan with pity. Most looked at him with open joy. The music seemed louder in the silence that followed her words.

A tall man in a gray suit walked up the stage with slow, proud steps. His name was Damien Kane. He was young, rich, and full of himself. He put his arm around Vanessa's waist like he already owned her. Vanessa leaned into him and smiled for the cameras that a few guests held up.

"Vanessa made the right choice," Damien said into the microphone. His voice was smooth and full of pride. "A real woman needs a real man. Not a useless dog who lives off her family and eats their food for free."

More laughter filled the hall. Some people raised their glasses toward Damien like he had won a prize. Ethan felt the sound of that laughter in his bones.

Ethan took one step forward. His voice was low but clear enough for the front rows to hear. "Vanessa. Are you sure about this?"

Vanessa looked down at him like he was dirt on her shoe. "I have never been more sure in my life. Sign the papers tomorrow. I never want to see your face again. Do you understand me?"

Damien walked down the steps toward Ethan. The crowd parted for him like water. He stopped right in front of Ethan and smiled with pure hatred in his eyes. The smell of his expensive cologne filled the small space between them.

"You heard her," Damien said. "Get out of this house. Get out of this family. Get out of her life."

Ethan did not move. He looked Damien straight in the eyes and did not look away. His breathing stayed steady even as anger burned under his skin.

Damien's smile disappeared. He raised his right hand and punched Ethan hard across the face.

The sound of the hit was loud in the quiet hall. Ethan's head snapped to the side. Pain exploded in his cheekbone. Blood filled his mouth at once. He tasted iron and salt. The room seemed to tilt for a second.

The crowd gasped. Some people clapped. A few women covered their mouths but their eyes shone with excitement. Victor Whitmore, standing near the front, laughed out loud and slapped the shoulder of the man next to him.

"That is for wasting three years of her life," Damien said. He grabbed Ethan's collar with both hands and pulled him close. His breath smelled of expensive wine. "And this is for thinking you ever belonged here with people like us."

He pushed Ethan backward with full force. Ethan stumbled and fell against a table. Glasses broke and fell to the floor. Red wine spilled across the white tablecloth like blood. People jumped back with cries of surprise. A plate shattered near Ethan's knee.

Victor Whitmore walked over with a cruel smile on his face. He kicked Ethan hard in the stomach. "Get out of our house, parasite! You never belonged here! You never will!"

Ethan coughed and tasted more blood. Pain shot through his ribs like fire. He looked up at Vanessa through the pain. She stood on the stage and watched everything with cold, empty eyes. She did not stop them. She did not look away. She did not care. That hurt more than the kick.

Two large security guards grabbed Ethan's arms and dragged him toward the big double doors. People stepped aside quickly to let them pass. No one helped him. No one said a single word of kindness. Some even took photos with their phones. Ethan heard the clicks of the cameras as they pulled him away.

Outside, the rain fell hard and cold. The night was black. The guards threw him down the stone steps without any care. Ethan landed hard on the wet ground. His cheap suit soaked up the water at once. Blood mixed with rain on his face and ran into his eyes, stinging them. He could hear the music and laughter still coming from inside the hall.

The heavy doors closed behind him with a deep, final sound.

Ethan stayed on the ground for a long time. His body hurt everywhere. His pride hurt more than the physical pain. Three years of silence. Three years of taking every insult without fighting back. Three years of believing she would change. All of it for nothing. He closed his eyes and felt the rain wash over his face.

He tried to stand. His legs shook under him. Pain shot through his ribs where Victor had kicked him. He almost fell again into the rain. His hands pressed against the wet stone as he pushed himself up.

A cold blue light appeared in front of his eyes.

Ethan blinked hard. The light did not go away. It stayed clear and sharp even in the heavy rain.

[Ding!]

[God-Level Dominion System activated.]

[Host detected in extreme humiliation.]

[Binding complete.]

Ethan stared at the words floating in the air. No one else could see them. His heart beat faster and faster in his chest. For a moment he thought he was dreaming from the pain.

[First mission: Survive the night.]

[Failure: Death.]

The blue screen stayed there, cold and clear, waiting for his answer.

Ethan wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Rain washed the rest away. His eyes became hard as stone.

"Survive the night," he whispered to the empty, wet street.

He did not know what this system was. He did not care. For the first time in three years, something inside him woke up.

And it was not fear.

It was rage. Clean, cold, and ready to be used.