THE SOVEREIGN RISE OF THE ABANDONED HUSBAND

Mechanical Wrath on the Tarmac

Richard smiled widely, He had spent the last three years treating Ethan like a personal footstool, frequently mocking his poverty and ordering him around like a dog. The idea of physically breaking him today was highly appealing.

"Don't worry, Grandma," Richard said, pulling his luxury car keys from his pocket. "I know exactly how to handle a spineless coward like Ethan. I'll have him kneeling on the ballroom floor before the champagne is poured."

Ten minutes later, Richard was driving down the tarmac roads of the city in his modified Maserati. He dialed Ethan's number on his hands-free dashboard system, laughing out loud before the call even connected.

The phone rang, Ethan replied

"What do you want, Richard?"

Richard scoffed loudly, blowing smoke toward the windshield. "Haha! Ethan, you pathetic piece of trash! I just left the executive boardroom, and Chloe told us absolutely everything. I have to admit, you really have some nerve! A dirty, penniless delivery boy actually has the audacity to cheat on my sister, bring low-class street girls into her apartment, and then assault her when she catches you? You really are lower than an animal!"

On the other end of the line, Ethan was sitting in the plush, leather interior of an armored Mercedes-Maybach. His messy courier hair was gone but he had a flawless trim. His broad shoulders were framed perfectly by a bespoke, dark charcoal three-piece suit that cost more than Richard's entire car. Beside him, his elite personal secretary, Sarah, held a golden tablet displaying the real-time financial distress files of the Pierce Group.

Hearing his brother-in-law's arrogant, mocking voice through the phone line.

He had given his own physical flesh, a vital internal organ, to save this family. He had endured their psychological abuse, cleaned their floors, and broken his own ribs working labor for them. And in return, Chloe hadn't just stolen his kidney—she had systematically branded him a domestic abuser, a thief, and an unfaithful monster to ensure his legal and social destruction.

"She told you I assaulted her?" Ethan asked. "She told the family I cheated?"

Richard pulled up to a red light, tapping his fingers aggressively against the steering wheel.

"I'm driving out to your usual delivery district to hunt you down right now!" Richard hollered into the speaker. "I have the legal confession papers right here in my passenger seat. You better turn your little delivery motorbike around and start heading back to the headquarters right now!"

Ethan looked out the tinted glass of his luxury Maybach. Through the window, he could see the commercial traffic flow moving across the central canal bridge—the only major road that connected his old delivery zone directly to the Pierce Group building.

"You don't need to drive all the way out to find me, Richard," Ethan said quietly. "Coincidentally, I am already on my way to your office. My car is passing over the central canal transit bridge right now."

"What? You're already on the bridge?!" Richard gasped, looking up as the traffic light flicked to green. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, racing forward. He realized that if Ethan was already on the bridge, they were about to pass each other from opposite directions. Richard wanted to block him before he could even reach the lobby gates.

Sarah, his secretary, looked up from her golden tablet. "Supreme Chairman, the Pierce Group's entire credit line is currently managed by one of our subsidiary banking institutions. With a single directive, Vanguard Apex can freeze their assets, recall their loans, and declare them bankrupt within five minutes. Shall I initiate the financial execution?"

"No," Ethan commanded softly. "Let them enjoy their gala for a few more moments. Let them lay out their traps, present their fake documents, and play their hand in front of all their distinguished guests. I want to see the exact look on their faces when they realize who the new Supreme Chairman of Vanguard truly is."

Richard stared at his screen as the call disconnected. Ethan had hung up on him. A delivery boy had actually dared to cut off a call with a true member of the Pierce family.

"Arriving at our headquarters shortly?" Richard muttered, "The coward is running right into the trap. He must be riding that pathetic, slow electric delivery scooter of his."

Richard knew the exact route Ethan would have to take to reach the Pierce Group Headquarters. It was a narrow, multi-lane bridge over the central canal. There were no pedestrian paths there, and a low-powered delivery bike would be completely trapped against high-speed traffic.

A dark thought took hold of Richard's mind. He didn't want to wait until Ethan arrived at the ballroom to humiliate him. He wanted to break his spirit right here on the road.

Stepping hard on the gas pedal, Richard forced the Maserati to drive through the traffic lanes. He planned to find Ethan on his scooter, cut him off at high speed. He wanted to make Ethan drop his bike and crawl on the hot road to collect the confession papers.

As Richard drove onto the bridge, his eyes scanned the road ahead. But he didn't see a single delivery scooter. Instead, on the primary fast lane was a sleek, motorcade—two armored black SUVs escorting a magnificent, pristine Mercedes-Maybach with dark windows and shiny chrome trim.

Richard, blinded by his own anger and desperate to find his target, didn't care about the wealth of the motorcade. He assumed it was just another rich investor arriving for his grandmother's gala.

"Get out of my way, you slow tank!" Richard snarled. He decided to execute a reckless, high-speed pass. He tried to squeeze his Maserati into the narrow gap right in front of the Maybach’s bumper.

Inside the Maybach, Ethan sat back quietly, watching the city buildings pass by. Suddenly, the car's automated safety sensors gave a warning.

Through the front window, the blue Maserati suddenly cut into their lane, missing the front of the Maybach by only a few inches.

Then Richard suddenly stepped on his brakes, clearly trying to force the Maybach to slow down.

"Supreme Chairman, hold on!" the Vanguard driver shouted, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

The Maybach was moving too fast to stop easily. If they hit Richard’s smaller car, his Maserati could spin out of control and crash into the bridge wall. But braking too suddenly could also cause the Maybach to lose control.

Ethan remained calm.

He didn't even move when his seatbelt tightened around him.

His eyes went to the plate number of the Maserati ahead.

PRCE-01.

Richard.

Richard had no idea Ethan was inside the Maybach. He was just driving recklessly, not knowing who he was messing with.

"Don't brake," Ethan ordered coldly. "Keep going. Let him learn what happens when he plays stupid games with me."

"Yes, sir."

Instead of hitting the brakes, the driver kept the Maybach steady and continued forward.

Richard looked into his mirror with a smug smile, expecting the luxury car behind him to panic and slow down.

But it didn't.

The large black Maybach kept coming straight toward him.

Richard's smile disappeared.

"Are they crazy?!" he shouted. "Brake! Brake!"

But the Maybach didn't slow down.

Richard's heart jumped into his throat.

At the last second, he quickly turned his steering wheel to the right.

The Maserati's tires screamed against the road as the car swerved across three lanes.

"Shit!"

Richard struggled with the steering wheel as the car almost crashed into the wall.

He barely managed to avoid it.

The Maserati spun toward the emergency lane before finally stopping.

Richard sat there breathing heavily, his heart beating wildly.

A second later, the Maybach drove past him.

The dark windows made it impossible for Richard to see who was inside.

The car simply continued down the road as if Richard wasn't important enough to notice.

Richard fell back against his seat.

His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely hold the cigarette between his fingers.