THE WAR GOD'S RECKONING

Chapter 3

The words landed softly but the air in the ward turned cold.

Max didn’t react immediately. His face didn’t twist in rage, his hands didn’t clench. He simply stood there, eyes lowering slightly, as if he were weighing something insignificant.

The Smiths were getting bolder.

He wasn’t dead yet they dared to marry his wife off like he never existed.

A slow breath left his nose.

“So,” Max said at last, his voice calm to the point of cruelty, “they’ve finally decided to dig their own graves.”

Tiger felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“Sir… what do you plan to do?” he asked after a brief silence.

Max rose from the chair beside the bed, straightening his uniform with deliberate slowness.

“Prepare the car,” he said flatly. “We’re going to the wedding.”

Tiger stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

He turned and left immediately.

“Brother…”

Amelia’s weak voice stopped Max at the door. She looked at him with hesitation, worry clouding her pale face.

Max turned back, the murderous pressure around him fading instantly.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his tone softening just enough for her to breathe. He walked back, took her thin hands in his, and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be back soon.”

Amelia searched his face. “You’re going there because of her… aren’t you?”

Max’s lips curved faintly.

“I just want to see,” he said calmly, “whether she’ll still choose me once she knows I’m alive.”

His eyes darkened.

“If she does, I’ll bring her home.”

“And if she doesn’t, fine too” he paused, then smiled, sharp and cold, “but the Smith family will learn what regret really means.”

Amelia swallowed.

“Rest,” Max added gently. “Take a good nap. When you wake up, I’ll be back.”

He turned and walked out of the ward without another word.

Outside the hospital, Max inhaled deeply, the sterile scent of disinfectant mixing with the city air.

He got into the waiting car and the door closed.

“Have you found everything I asked for?” Max asked, his gaze fixed on the passing scene.

“Yes, sir,” Tiger replied from the driver’s seat. “I’ve confirmed it all.”

“The Smith family is forcing Madam Fiona to marry the Cooper family’s young master.”

Max snorted softly.

“The Cooper family,” he repeated. “Those dogs with borrowed teeth.”

Tiger hesitated, then continued, “Bryan Cooper has been hovering around Madam Fiona for almost two years now.”

Max chuckled and it was low, mocking and dangerous.

“That idiot?” he said. “I remember him. All mouth, no spine. A man who thinks money can buy dignity.”

Tiger’s lips twitched.

“Sir,” he said carefully, “should I arrange for the Cooper family to be… dealt with before we arrive?”

Max shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said lazily. “That would be boring.”

His eyes gleamed faintly, “Let’s go to the wedding,” he continued. “I want to see how confident they look when the dead man walks in.”

---

(Grandview Pavilion)

Grandview Pavilion stood in polished grandeur, crystal lights hanging low, marble floors reflecting silk shoes and quiet ambition. Rows of guests sat neatly arranged, faces wearing practiced smiles, eyes sharp with calculation.

This wasn’t a wedding born of love, it was a transaction.

On the podium stood three figures.

A young man in a dark-blue Tang suit, posture stiff with pride he hadn’t earned.

A woman in a white wedding gown, beautiful, pale, and eyes dull like something already resigned.

Between them, the priest read from the Bible, voice steady, unaware he was standing on borrowed time.

The Smith family sat at the front, smiles stretched wide, eyes glittering. This alliance with the Cooper family would lift them higher, secure their place among Oakridge’s elite. Today was their victory lap.

“And if anyone objects to this union,” the priest said, lifting his head, “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

There was silence, not because there were no objections but because no one was stupid enough to voice them.

The Cooper family owned Oakridge. Their territory and their rules.

The Smiths’ smiles deepened and Bryan Smith gave a subtle nod.

“If ther...”

“I object.”

The voice didn’t shout, it didn’t need to, the heavy doors at the back of the hall swung open anc two figures walked in.

The temperature dropped, gasps rippled through the hall as heads snapped around. Conversations died mid-breath.

Max walked in calmly, hands in his pockets, military coat unbuttoned, his aura suffocating. Tiger followed half a step behind, eyes cold, scanning the room like a hunter stepping into a cage of prey.

The Smith family exploded immediately they saw him.

“You bastard!” Morgan shrieked, leaping to her feet and charging forward, face twisted with venom. “How dare you come back?!”

Tiger stepped forward once.

“Take another step,” he said flatly, “and you’ll crawl back.”

Morgan froze, her rage trembled, but fear locked her feet in place.

“You ungrateful dog!” she screamed from where she stood. “You should have died on the battlefield! If not for you, my daughter wouldn’t have birthed that bastard and ruined her life!”

Her words echoed, ugly and loud but Max didn’t even look at her.

“Why did you come back?” Damon Smith sneered, stepping forward. “You should’ve stayed dead. This wedding is already decided.”

Benjamin Smith, head of the Smiths leaned on his cane and walked out slowly, eyes sharp with authority.

“Leave,” he said coldly. “You are not welcome here.”

Whispers erupted around the hall, heads nodded and murmurs spread.

“He’s in the wrong.”

“He abandoned her.”

“He should’ve stayed dead.”

Morgan laughed triumphantly hearing the crowd blame him.

“You hear that?” she screeched. “Now get out...”

Max finally looked at her, just one glance and her laughter died in her throat.

“I didn’t come here to argue with corpses,” Max said quietly.

His voice was low, controlled and dadly, yet it struck the hall like thunder.

“I came for my wife,” he continued, stepping forward slowly, “and only she gets to decide whether I leave.”

Each step echoed as he stopped before the podium and Fiona stood frozen, hands trembling, eyes wide.

“Fiona,” Max said calmly. “I wronged you. I won’t deny that.”

His gaze never wavered.

“We were drugged on our wedding night. I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

The hall was silent.

“I know you suffered,” he continued. “I know resentment may have rotted every little memory you have of me.”

He paused.

“But legally,” he said, voice steady, “you are still my wife.”

Murmurs erupted but Max raised a hand and instant silence descended.

“If you are willing to come with me,” he said, “I will take you away from here today. No one...” his eyes swept the hall slowly, “no family, no clan, no goddamn ancestor will ever force you again.”

Then his tone shifted sharply.

“And if you don’t want me,” he continued calmly, “I will sign the divorce papers right here and I will disappear from your life forever.”

A beat.

“I’ll take my daughter of course,” he added. “That’s non-negotiable.”

He exhaled slowly, “The choice is yours,” Max said, eyes locking onto Fiona’s. “Choose freely and I will accept it.”