The Forsaken Man Who Shook The World

Chapter 8. Titanium Member!

“I will love you if everything I just mentioned can be fulfilled, Dear. Life isn’t just about love. Life requires luxury and everything that comes with it. And I cannot hand over my precious life for love alone.”

Thump!

Jackson’s chest felt pierced once again. Though Brielle hadn’t directly said the words, he understood the answer hidden in her statement.

He froze, staring deeply into his wife’s eyes—the eyes he had never been able to fully read. Now, he realized there was no spark of love in them. The woman he had always been proud of, the one he had placed above all else, looked at him without affection.

Jackson had never once done household chores before in his life, yet he was willing to do them all for her. Even the kitchen work, he carried out gladly.

Suddenly, it was as if he awoke from a long dream. He began to suspect there was some kind of scheme behind all of this. But perhaps he needed to endure a little longer if he wanted to uncover the truth.

“Very well. Then I’ll go back to my room, Brielle. Good night.”

Jackson released Brielle’s shoulders, opened the door, and left the room without glancing back at the woman who had been his wife for the past two years.

Days passed, and during that time Jackson simply remained silent as he watched Jacob come and go—always picking up and dropping off Brielle at her workplace.

Yes, Brielle was now working at Jacob’s company. And day by day, her arrogance grew more apparent, even toward her own younger sister.

“Jenny! Jennifer!”

That morning, Brielle’s voice rang out sharply from the front.

“Yes, Sis Brielle. What is it?”

Jenny ran up, responding quickly to her older sister whom she had always loved dearly.

“Why haven’t you polished my work shoes? Look at this—dust is still clinging to the heels!”

“Huh?! Oh—yes, let me clean them quickly, Sis.”

“Hurry! I don’t have much time!”

Brielle immediately thrust out her foot, already wearing her red leather shoes, while she remained seated. Jenny crouched down and carefully polished them until they shone.

Jackson had witnessed such scenes many times, and each time he grew more baffled by Brielle’s increasing cruelty toward her own sister.

-

That night, the clock struck nine, yet Brielle still hadn’t returned home.

Though he knew deep down that his wife could not—or rather, would not—love him because he had nothing, Jackson’s heart was filled with worry. As her lawful husband, he felt responsible if anything were to happen to her—even though he had never once touched her.

[Darling, why aren’t you home yet?]

Jackson finally sent a message.

[I’m working late tonight, Dear. Don’t wait for me.]

Reading that reply made Jackson even more uneasy.

Though Brielle had never told him the address of the company she worked for, Jackson had easily found out. And now, here he was, standing in front of the company parking lot.

Sure enough, Jacob’s car was still parked neatly there. Normally, office hours ended at five. Even with overtime, why would it be this late?

“Excuse me, Sir. Who are you looking for?”

The security guard, an older man, approached politely.

“I’m looking for the owner of this company. His car is still parked over there.”

“Oh, Mr. Jacob. Earlier, Mr. Marck did leave his car here, but he and his companions went out in a friend’s car.”

The elderly guard explained respectfully.

“I see. Do you know where they went?”

“I’m not too sure, Sir. But from what I overheard, I think they were heading to a club or bar—though I don’t quite remember. Sorry.”

Jackson was touched by the guard’s courteous manner. The man was clearly aging, yet still working late into the night.

“I understand. Thank you very much.”

Jackson smiled faintly, then left. But unease gnawed at his chest as he thought of Jacob taking his wife to such places. Still, his clear mind reminded him that the clubs and bars around here were exclusive and high-class.

Without delay, Jackson pulled out his phone and made a call—to begin tracking his wife’s whereabouts.

Do not call Jackson anything less than the only heir of the Raksa Hethawey Sultan family—for there was nothing he could not accomplish in the blink of an eye.

Less than an hour later, he was already standing in front of Munich Light Club, the most luxurious nightclub in town. Few could enter, and certainly not without prior arrangement. Yet, for Jackson, it was never a problem.

Unfortunately, his steps were halted right at the entrance.

“Please show your membership card—Gold, Platinum, or Titanium.”

A burly guard blocked his path.

“Titanium. But I forgot to bring it. I’m a member under the Raksa family,” Jackson answered quickly, hoping to head upstairs without further delay.

The guard looked him up and down. Then burst out laughing.

“Raksa family?! Are you trying to fool me? Get out before I beat you half to death!”

Thump!

Jackson’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening instantly.

“I don’t have time for this. Step aside!”

“With that shabby appearance, you dare dream of entering a Sultan’s circle? Hah! Go home and take a look in the mirror. Then check your wallet—see if you can even afford gas for your motorbike, if you even own one!”

“Stop wasting my time. I’m not here to play around.”

Brughht!

The guard suddenly threw a punch at Jackson’s stomach.

But in the same instant, Jackson countered, striking back with controlled fury.

Brughht! Brughht!

“I already told you—I don’t have time for games! I told you not to make me angry!”

Jackson punched again and again, his blows landing squarely on the guard’s stomach and face.

“Call your manager! Call Bastian here, now!”

Seeing the commotion—and especially hearing Jackson demand for their manager by name—one of the staff, who had been watching the scene unfold like free entertainment, quickly made a call.

“Manager, please come downstairs at once. There’s a disturbance here.”

“What disturbance?! Why didn’t you handle it right away?!”

“The man is forcing his way in without a membership card. He claims he’s from the Raksa family, and—he mentioned your name, sir. He’s demanding you come down.”

“W-what?!”

Click!

Bastian immediately hung up and sprinted toward the elevator.