2026-01-28 21:03:11Derek's fist swung through the air, aimed directly at Ethan's face. The crowd gasped, some stepping back, others leaning forward with morbid anticipation.
Ethan sidestepped effortlessly. His own fist connected with Derek's jaw—a sharp, precise blow that sent his half-brother sprawling across the polished marble floor. "You—" Derek clutched his face, fresh blood seeping through the makeup. "You hit me again! In front of everyone!" "Don't be ridiculous," Vanessa shrieked, rushing to Derek's side. "Security! Where the hell is security?" Heavy footsteps thundered through the ballroom. Six security guards burst through the doors, their faces grim and professional—until they saw Ethan. The lead guard froze, his hand halfway to his radio. Recognition flashed across his features, followed immediately by fear. "You." "Problem?" Ethan's voice was casual. "I—no, sir." The guard's adam's apple bobbed. "No problem at all." "What?" Richard's face turned purple. "What do you mean 'no problem'? This animal just assaulted my son! Remove him immediately!" The security guard shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, this gentleman has a VIP family invitation. We can't—" "I don't care what he has!" Celeste screamed. "Throw him out! Now!" "Ma'am, we physically cannot—" "Are you all completely useless?" Derek staggered to his feet, still clutching his bleeding face. "He's a street rat! A nobody! Just grab him and—" "The gentleman was verified at the gate," another guard interrupted, his voice tight. "With proper credentials. We have no authority to—" "Since when does trash carry credentials?" A woman in the crowd laughed mockingly. "Did he steal them? Forge them?" "Probably begged someone for a pity invitation," a man in an expensive suit sneered. "Like the parasite he is." "A flea on a dog's back has more dignity," another voice called out. "At least fleas know they're parasites." Ethan stood perfectly still, his expression one of mild boredom. Rebecca beside him maintained her cold, indifferent demeanor, examining her nails as if the spectacle barely merited her attention. "Look at him," Vanessa hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Standing there like he belongs. Like he's something more than the gutter trash he crawled out of." "Worse than trash," an elderly woman spat. "Trash gets thrown away quietly. This creature keeps crawling back like a diseased cockroach." Derek wiped blood from his lip, his eyes blazing with humiliation and rage. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Coming here with your fake invitation, your pathetic little rebellion. You're nothing. A worm. Less than a worm. At least worms serve a purpose in the dirt where they belong." "The dirt wouldn't even want him," someone laughed. "Too contaminated." The massive ballroom doors swung open with a theatrical flourish. A hush fell over the crowd as a tall, distinguished man in his early fifties entered, his presence commanding immediate attention. Marcus Sterling—Vincent Kidman's Company senior manager and the public face of Kidman Holdings—strode into the room with the confidence of old money and established power. "Marcus!" Richard's face transformed, rage melting into obsequious delight. "You're here! Finally!" "Mr. Sterling!" Derek rushed forward, momentarily forgetting his bleeding face. "We're so honored—" "Marcus, darling!" Vanessa's voice turned sickeningly sweet. "We've been waiting for you!" The crowd surged forward, a wave of desperate sycophants and social climbers. "Mr. Sterling, it's such a pleasure—" "The partnership is truly inspired—" "Your family's wisdom in choosing the Morrisons—" Marcus raised a hand, silencing them instantly. His sharp eyes swept the room, taking in the scene—Derek's bloodied face, the scattered guests, the security guards standing awkwardly near Ethan. "What," Marcus said coldly, "is going on here?" "This animal attacked me!" Derek pointed at Ethan, his voice shaking with indignation. "Twice! He forced his way in here with a forged invitation and assaulted me in my own home!" "He's been making wild accusations!" Celeste added shrilly. "Threatening us! Lying about our family!" "He's insane," Vanessa declared. "Completely unhinged. He can't accept that I chose a real man over him." The crowd erupted in agreement. "He's been harassing the Morrison family for weeks!" "I heard he embezzled company funds before they kicked him out!" "Criminal behavior, absolutely criminal—" "Someone should call the police!" Marcus's gaze finally settled on Ethan, his expression unreadable. "And you are?" Ethan met his stare calmly. "Just a guest attending the banquet. Though I seem to have stumbled into a kennel of mad dogs. The barking is quite excessive." The ballroom went deathly silent. Derek's face turned crimson. "How dare you—" "Mad dogs?" Richard's voice was ice. "You insolent little—" "Kennel?" Vanessa's shriek could have shattered glass. "You're calling us animals?" "If the collar fits," Ethan said mildly. Marcus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Mad dogs. An interesting choice of words." He took a step forward, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Tell me, guest—who exactly do you think you are?"
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 120
He walked for an hour without a destination, up through the mid-forties where the streets were wide and corporate and full of people moving with the focused efficiency of those who knew exactly where they were going, then east toward the river where the architecture changed character and the foot traffic thinned and you could hear the water if you stood close enough to the railing and paid attention.He stood there for a while, looking out at the grey chop of it, the far shore, a barge moving slowly upriver with the patient indifference of something that had been doing this long before the city existed and would go on doing it after.The trust document specified community health access as the primary intended use. Vincent had written that in 2009, the same year he had added his daughter's name, the same year Ethan had turned twenty-two and was living in a different city entirely, knowing nothing about buildings or trusts or the way that men who couldn't speak their grief sometimes tri
Chapter 119
He didn't sleep well, which he'd expected, and was up before six with the particular wakefulness of a mind that had decided the night was finished whether the body agreed or not. He made coffee and sat at the kitchen table without the envelope this time, without the notebook, without anything in front of him that required a decision. He just sat with the coffee and the early grey light coming through the window and let the city assemble itself slowly around him, the first buses, the first voices on the sidewalk below, the gradual accumulation of the ordinary day.His mother had not known about the building. He kept returning to that, the way you return to a door you've already checked, needing to be sure. She had lived two miles from a piece of property her father had placed her name on and she had never known, and she had died without knowing, and Vincent had amended the document two years later with the quiet efficiency of someone putting away something that would never be used, rec
Chapter 118
The walk back to his car felt longer than the ride up had been, the rain now just a fine mist that settled on his shoulders and hair. The folders sat heavy in his briefcase, their edges pressing into his palm through the leather. At the garage, he sat behind the wheel for a moment before starting the engine, looking up at the tower where he’d just spent an hour learning things that rearranged the shape of his life.His phone buzzed in his pocket. Gloria.“You free later? Derek found a place that makes proper cornbread — the kind your mom used to make.”He typed back quickly: “Be there by seven.”The drive across town gave him time to sort through what Judith had told him. The pieces fit together now — the trust, the building, Vincent’s quiet distance, even Howard’s careful opposition. It wasn’t just about money or governance structures. It was about loyalty and guilt and love that had been folded into legal language because the people involved didn’t know how to say it any other way.
Chapter 117
The drive into the city the next morning took fifty minutes instead of forty, rain spattering against the windshield in thin, persistent sheets that blurred the edges of buildings and made the streetlights burn longer than they should have. Ethan parked in a garage beneath a tower of glass and steel that caught the grey light like a mirror, and took the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor where Castellan and Associates occupied the entire west wing.The reception area was quiet, almost austere — dark wood, cream walls, no art except for a single framed print of a courthouse facade that looked older than the building itself. A woman at the desk stood as he approached, her movements precise."Mr. Morrison? Ms. Castellan is expecting you. Right this way."She led him down a corridor lined with closed doors, each with a nameplate in polished metal. At the end, she knocked once and opened the door without waiting for a response.Judith Castellan was standing at her window, looking out ove
Chapter 116
It was harder than he expected, not because he was impulsive by nature but because waiting with something like this required a specific kind of discipline — the ability to be in a room with Howard Briggs and speak to him about governance structures and board procedure while carrying the knowledge of Gerald Plum and the Hargrove trust like a stone in his coat pocket, present and weighty and invisible.Howard came to the office on Thursday to review the agenda for Tuesday's meeting and Ethan sat across from him for forty minutes discussing procedural order and quorum requirements and the correct parliamentary language for introducing a new governance initiative, and he watched Howard's careful, professional face and thought about the forty-minute drive to Arthur's clinic, about the call to Gloria, about twenty-two years of thorough and faithful service to a structure whose foundations might run deeper and more personally than anyone at the foundation had been allowed to see.<
Chapter 115
He called Rebecca the next morning before he went into the office, standing at the kitchen window with coffee he'd made too strong, the envelope still in his bag where he'd left it the night before.She answered on the second ring and he told her what he'd found, laying it out in the same order Derek had given it to him, without editorializing. He had learned that Rebecca processed information better when it arrived clean, without the emotional weather already attached to it.She was quiet through most of it. When he finished she stayed quiet for another few seconds, which with Rebecca meant she was being precise rather than evasive."I knew the Castellan firm administered several of Vincent's personal trusts," she said finally. "I didn't know about the Hargrove structure specifically, or about the Delancey building. That's not in any of the foundation documents I've seen.""Could it have been kept separate deliberately.""With Vincent, t
You may also like
Trillionaire Ex husband's Revenge
Jericho Chase91.6K viewsThe Return of Doctor Levin
Dane Lawrence143.4K viewsThe Return Of The God of War
Esther Writes377.1K viewsRise Of The General's Forgotten Son
Dragon Sly103.8K viewsTHE BOSS BEAST
Lionaira227 viewsBetrayed Into Wealth
Hare Ra161 viewsThe Almighty General
Michael Chi 476 viewsRise Of The Trillionaire: Robert Jackson
Olazxs1.7K views