THE RETURN Of the LEGENDARY KING of WAR

“Hurry up and buckle my heels!”

The sharp click of golden stilettos echoes through the room as Lizzy McCalls snaps again.

“Look! A damn snail would have gotten me ready by now. What are you even doing?!”

She didn't bother to look down at Andrew, crouched before her with trembling fingers. Her voice is ice wrapped in velvet—cutting, a mixture of elegance, but loud enough to stab.

“Are you trying to make me late for this contract? Or are you just naturally the enemy of progress?”

She towers over him in an emerald green dress that looks poured from a bottle of liquid wealth. Tailored to perfection, the thick, sculpted fabric hugs her curves like a second skin.

The square neckline frames her collar bone with Aristocratic flair, while the cat sleeves clunk tight to her biceps, enhancing her stiff posture.

A gold buckled belt cinched her narrow waist, adding just the right edge of power. Her hem stood neatly below the knee, and those pointy golden hills truck the floor with deliberate, punishing rhythm.

A month ago, she has seen this dress in a boutique window. Her friends scooped theirs up without blinking, flaunting them at brunches and gallery openings. Lizzy had only stares, her chest burning with silent envy.

She'd glance at Mark Andrew—her husband—who stands quietly by the window peeling and apple.

An apple, of all things!

Of course it is her apple. She has seen him peel hundreds for her since they married. “But what good is a man who can peel apples and not afford to buy her a decent gift?” Lizzy thinks.

Her friends have designer bags. Trips abroad. New cars. But she has… Mark.

Stupid, pathetic looking Mark.

But then last night, everything changed.

A courier shows up at their Mansion gate. She had a package to sign for. There is no sender and there is no note. Just a heavy black box.

She had opened it beneath the chandelier and gasped.

Inside was the emerald green dress she had moaned over for weeks. Golden stilettos that simmered like fire. A small jewelry case with gold studs and a delicate matching necklace.

There is no tag, or a clue as to who sent it.

But when she sees the receipt tucked under the shoes—six figures for the entire set—her breath hitched! The price alone makes her weak in the knees.

Now, no one will mock her. Not after this. And certainly not when she lands the Billion Pub deal.

Mr Theo, the owner of Billion Pub Cooperation, had ignored her proposals for months. And then suddenly, he emailed her last night, singing her praises and asking her to meet—personally.

She didn't know what changed. But then, she isn't about to waste it.

And here is Andrew, fumbling with her shoes like a damn, slow child.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

Lizzy jerks her foot back, hard. The stiletto scraps across Andrew's hand, slicing the skin. Blood immediately wells up.

“I-I'm sorry,” he says softly, clutching his hand. “You didn't have to yell like that. I was trying to—”

“Well, your damn best is never enough!” She cuts him off, voice like whip. “I don't even know why I am talking to you. You barely understand simple instructions. Not when you're so—so beneath me!”

Andrew is suddenly tongue tied. He didn't know what to say. He just stands there, bleeding silently, eyes cast on the floor. Lizzy’s words cut deep, but he says nothing.

Because he loves her. Madly, miserably and hopelessly in love with her. Because he owed her his life.

Because years ago, she saved him. And he had sworn to spend his life paying that debt.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?!”

Lizzy’s voice shatters the silence again.

Andrew flinches. “W-What did you say?”

“Oh, forget it. Whatever dumb thought is in your head must be more important.”

She spins on her heal, happy film thrilling behind her like smoke as she heads for the stairs.

Andrew follows immediately, guilt burning in his chest. He has managed to anger her again. His Lizzy. “I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. It won't happen again. I swear—”

“You should be sorry!” She spits. “Like you can't even own a car! And now I have to show up to Billion Pub on a scooter like some beggars wife?! Urghhh! My friends will mock me to death!”

Lizzy reaches the bottom of the staircase and smothers her dress, forcing a calm expression onto her face. No one should see how rage—not in public. She is a woman of class.

In the sitting room, her mother, Mrs Liliana, stands to meet her. She wraps Lizzy in a gentle, proud hug.

“You are going to seal that contract” she says, eyes gleaming. “Because you are your mother's daughter. Not like—” her voice sharpens. “—some worthless loser who's just living off us.”

Her words land like stones from the mountain.

Andrew, still standing nearby, drops his eyes to the marble floor. “But Mom—” he starts…

Before he could finish, Mrs Liliana stalks to his side, and with a heavy hand, strikes his cheeks! Andrew immediately cradles his stinging cheeks.

Madam Liliana only looks fraial but the frailness doesn't match the power her palms held.

“Don't you dare call me that,” she snaps. “All My sons are successful. I will never bear a disgrace like you.

Lizzy watches everything unfold, enjoying the spectacle. Then she gives a light laugh. “Mom, don't stress yourself. Or you'll really ruin your beautiful face.”

Liliana scoffs and waves her off. “Go, or you'll be late.” She says, before glaring icily at Andrew.

Outside, Andrew rolls out the scooter and starts the ignition. The engine sputters to life.

He then turns to Lizzy, smiling faintly. “It's ready,” she gently informs her.

She eyes the scooter with disdain. After a long pause, she finally walks over and clones on. Side-saddle like royalty, making sure her body doesn't touch Andrew. Just sitting in the same space as him already repulses her.

But still, like a finished man, Andrew adores her.

She is her princess, even if she will never see him as her prince.

“Hey,” he says softly, trying to ease the tension that rides along with them, mocking and reminding him that he can never be enough for her. “Don't be nervous, okay? Everything will go smoothly, I'm sure—”

“Oh, you're sure?” Lizzy scoffs. “Please. What would a useless, broke lived-in husband know about businesses?”

Andrew stays quiet at that.

Lizzy hates that. Hates how calm he is. “Like, why can't he just be someone, huh? Why can't he be better?” she thinks.

Halfway through the ride, a black car honks aggressively behind them. Andrew nearly swerves off the road.

“Watch it, dummy!” Lizzy yells, slapping his back. “Trying to kill me because you can't get up to par with me? Well, news flash! It will not work!”

For the first time, Andrew frowns. This isn't his fault. And Lizzy know it, so how can she say such cruel things to him?

The car pulls up beside them, rolling down its window. A man in desider shades leans out, grinning.

“Hey! What is a beauty like you doing on a scooter?”

His eyes scan Lizzy like she is dessert. Then, flickers to Andrew with mockery.

As if burned, Lizzy leaps off the scooter and smolders her dress. “Haha, master Burke! A scooter? No, no. Just a quick ride. Nothing serious.”

Andrew’s heart sinks at that.

Burke raises an eyebrow. “And who is that guy?”

Andrew opens his mouth to speak, but Lizzy ruthlessly beats him to it, tossing her hair back with a light, dismissive laugh.

“Oh, him? He's nobody. Just some delivery guy. My car broke down on my way to Billion Pub Cooperation, and well—” she pauses, flashing Burke a dazzling smile, “—I didn't have much of a choice. Had to settle for this…low budget ride.”

Andrew's heart gives a painful ache, as her casual words stab a knife into his chest.

His frown deepens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Was she serious?” He thinks. “Was this what he was to her now? A nobody? A delivery guy? The woman he has given everything to… now can't even acknowledge him as her husband?”

The betrayal leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he bites his tongue. He couldn't react, at least not yet. Not while what he is working towards is still unfinished.

Burke snorts, barely hiding his amusement. His eyes gleam with derision as they flick over to Andrew's worn out jeans and battered sneakers.

“Well, I guess not everyone can be lucky enough to ride in style,” Burke says smirking as he twirls the car keys between his fingers. “Now, come on, sweetheart. You don't belong standing next to…that.”

Lizzy laughs, a cruel, breathy sound. “I know, right? I felt like a charity case just climbing onto that scooter.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust, as if merely recalling it makes her nauseous.

Andrew's stomach plummets further. Every word feels like a hammer to his pride, but he remains silent, his face a carefully constructed mask..

Burke saunters towards Lizzy, confidence dripping from every step. He stops just close enough to make Lizzy's breath catch.

“Besides,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “aren't we heading in the same direction?”

Andrew watches Lizzy and her cheeks flush a soft pink as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile turning coy—an expression she has never once shown him in all their three years of marriage.

“How could I forget you're Mr Theodore's heir to Billion Pub Cooperation?” she asks sweetly, her voice practically dripping with admiration.

At these words, Burke's chest swells with pride. He adjusts his tuxedo with a slow, deliberate motion, basking in her attention. “Of course,” he says smugly. “And how do you think you got that email invite? Mr Theo doesn't just hand those out.”

Last night, Burke had come back home from clubbing to his father pacing around. He inquires why he is pacing around, and that is how he knew. But of course, Lizzy didn't have to know this.

Lizzy's jaws drop, her eyes sparkling like stars. “What?” You… you made that happen?” She gasps, clutching her hands together against her chest. “Oh my God, Burke! You're incredible! I-I don't know how to thank you!”

Before he can reply, Lizzy throws her arms around his neck, giving him a quick but giddy hug. Burke didn't hesitate. His hands immediately settled on her waist a second too long, his smirk growing wider.

All the while, Andrew stands rooted to the spot, watching the scene unfold as though he was nothing more than invisible air.

“And to think,” Burke adds with a mocking glance at Andrew, who is now pale from heartbreak, “thst you could've been stuck with scooter boy over there for the rest of your life.”

He laughs, loud and cruel, like the punchline to some private joke.

Lizzy joins in and giggles, hiding her smile behind her hand as she shoots Andrew a look full of scorn.

“Well, thank God for second chances,” she says, the venom barely hidden beneath her sugary tone.

Andrew's jaws tighten, his vision blurring with suppressed rage. The last time he checks, it isn't Burke who helped her secure the meeting with Mr Theodore.

So how can she stand there, pouring her gratitude into another man's arms… as if he didn't even exist?