The God of War Comeback

Chapter 4

The slap still rang in the air, and every guest in the hall stood with wide eyes, staring at Alfred as if he had just signed his own death warrant. No one dared to breathe. No one had ever seen a man raise his hand against David Clinton, heir to one of the most powerful families in the city, and walk away smiling.

Sarah and George stood pale, their faces drained of color. They both understood, in that single second, exactly what Alfred had done. He hadn't just embarrassed a man. He had shattered every hope their family had of climbing out of debt and into power.

David pressed a hand to his burning cheek, his eyes burning with rage rather than pain. He turned on George like a wounded animal.

"You brought a criminal into my wedding to humiliate me." His voice shook with fury. "You have four days to find a way to get rid of him and get her into my bed, or I swear to you, I will bury your family. Every business, every account, every last thing you own."

Then his eyes cut toward Alfred, and whatever courage he had left drained out of him instantly. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and said nothing. He simply turned and stormed out of the hall, his footsteps echoing through the stunned silence.

The guests didn't linger long after that. One by one, they filed out, throwing looks of disgust at George and his family on their way. Everyone in that room understood the same thing: the Simpsons had just made an enemy out of the Clinton family, and there was no version of that fight they could win.

When the last guest disappeared through the doors, the hall fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Only family remained now, and they stared at one another with a mixture of disbelief and rage.

Today was supposed to be the day everything changed for them. Angela was supposed to marry David, warm his bed, secure the partnership, and lift their family into the second tier of the city's elite. That dream had just been torn apart in front of two hundred witnesses, and Alfred was the one holding the pieces.

Now they had four days to fix what he had broken, or lose everything.

"Angela, look what you've done!" Sarah's voice cracked as she rounded on her daughter. "What were you thinking, letting this criminal walk in here and ruin everything? You've shamed this entire family. Divorce him and marry David."

"You have no idea what you've caused," George added, his voice trembling with fury. "Do you think Mr. Clinton will ever forgive what happened to his son tonight? You go and apologise, or you will watch this family fall apart because of you."

"I always said this girl would be nothing but trouble," an aunt hissed from the side.

"We need that contract honoured," another voice snapped. "We have debts to clear; she marries him, or she does exactly what the agreement says."

Angela's face burned red with humiliation, her eyes stinging, but she said nothing.

What could she say?

That Alfred was innocent, that none of this was his fault, and no one in that room would believe her, not after everything the courts had already decided years ago.

Alfred's jaw locked. He slammed his foot against the marble floor hard enough that the sound cracked through the hall like a gunshot.

"Enough." His voice thundered, silencing every whisper instantly. "All of you should be ashamed of yourselves; you knew she had a husband. You knew she had a son, and still you tried to force her into another man's bed for your own selfish gain."

No one answered him

At that exact moment, Angela's phone rang. Her hands shook as she pulled it from her purse and saw the hospital's number flash across the screen.

"Hello?" Her voice was already trembling. "Has something happened to my son? Is he okay?"

The voice on the other end was businesslike and indifferent to the panic in her tone. "Ma'am, we received notice that payment for your son's care has been halted, and if we don't receive the surgery f*e within the next few hours, we'll have no choice but to remove life support."

"No, please! Please don't touch that mask, I'll get you the money, I promise, just give me time..”

The line went dead before she could finish.

Angela's hands fell to her sides, the phone slipping from her fingers. She didn't need to ask who had cut off the payment. She already knew, and her eyes lifted slowly toward the old man sitting silently in the corner, watching everything unfold with cold, unreadable eyes.

"Grandfather." Her voice cracked. "Please. Help me pay for his surgery. Please, I'm begging you."

The old man's lip curled. "You ungrateful girl, after everything this family has done for you, you bring home a worthless ex-convict to humiliate us in front of the entire city, and now you want my money?" His cane struck the floor once. "Ask him to pay for it. Don't come crying to me if your son dies tonight."

There was no mistaking the hatred in his eyes, not for Alfred, not even really for Angela. He simply didn't care whether the boy lived or died, not if it cost him a single dollar.

Angela's knees nearly buckled; she had nowhere left to turn, no one left to ask, and every second that passed felt like a blade against her throat.

"You don't have to beg them," Alfred said, stepping forward, his voice steady and low. "I'll take care of our son."

Jessica let out a short, cold laugh from across the room. "Take care of him? With what money? You just got out of prison, Alfred. You have nothing. Stop pretending you're some kind of hero."

"Let's see him try," someone else muttered, and a ripple of quiet laughter followed.

Alfred ignored every one of them. He crossed the room, reached out, and gently lifted Angela's chin so her eyes met his.

"You don't have to worry about anything. Give me the doctor's number. I'll handle it."

"Are you sure?" Her voice wavered, doubt written across her face. She wanted to believe him, but everything Jessica said was true.

Wasn't it?

He had just walked out of a six-year sentence.

What money could he possibly have?

"I'm sure," he said, holding her gaze without blinking. "He won't just keep receiving treatment; he's going to recover, I promise you that."

She pulled out her phone with shaking hands and gave him the number.

He dialled a different number immediately, and within seconds, Sebastian's voice answered on the other end.

"Sir. What do you need?"

"Go to City General Hospital right now," Alfred said. "I'm sending you a number. Call the attending doctor, clear every outstanding bill, and move the boy into the best ward they have. I want the top specialists on his case tonight. Nothing happens to him. Do you understand me?"

"Understood, sir. I'm on my way." The line clicked off.

Alfred lowered the phone and turned back to Angela, whose face was streaked with tears she hadn't managed to stop.

"It's handled; our son will be taken care of. You need to relax.” He said confidently.

Laughter broke out again, louder this time, ugly and mocking.

"He made a fake call, that's all. Who does a man like him even know?"

"You think we're fools? You have no family left, no connections, nothing. Your own adopted family threw you out years ago."

"Divorce her already and let this family do what needs to be done."

"Grandfather, someone should have him removed. Call security, and have him arrested if he refuses to leave."

At that moment, Angela's phone buzzed; she stared at the same number that had just called a moment ago to tell her about her son's medical bill being halted.

She raised a brow, confused. Did Alfred really make the call, or had something happened to her son?

Angela answered, and immediately the voice spoke with patience. “Ma'am, sorry for what I said earlier. Your son has been taken in for surgery. Someone made the full payment; everything is taken care of. I will do my best to make sure nothing happens to your son.”

She opened her lips to utter a word, but nothing came out, as tears dropped from her eyes.

“Ma'am, are you there? Did you hear me?”

She managed to speak, “Yes, please take care of my son.”

The line went dead immediately.

“How?” The family members asked with disbelief.

They had heard everything the doctor said; their eyes darted to Alfred, who stood unfazed.

Wilson Simpson glared at Alfred with disgust. “How was he able to do that?” he thought.

But that didn't change his thoughts toward Alfred; he was still a nobody.

George gritted his teeth and spoke, “Father, he might have saved the boy, but we still can't accept him. Call security, and have him arrested if he refuses to leave.”

Alfred's eyes swept over every one of them, cold and unshaken. "If you want me gone, then I'm taking Angela with me."

Gasps rippled through the remaining family, glances darting toward the old man, Wilson Simpson.

His cane cracked against the marble floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "You are going nowhere with her," he snapped. "She marries David Clinton, or she pays this family the hundred million dollars she agreed to in the contract she signed."

"A hundred million dollars for what?" Alfred's voice was curious.

The old man's mouth curled into a satisfied smirk, the look of a man who believed he'd already won.

"She never told you, did she? This was never just a marriage. This family owes debts, I mean real debts, and the Clinton family agreed to clear every last cent of them, on the condition that she marries their son. If she refuses, the banks come for everything we own. She signed that contract herself, and there is no walking away from it now."

Alfred's jaw tightened as he looked at Angela, watching the tears fall freely down her face, watching her shoulders shake with a weight she had carried alone for far too long.

"I'll give you two days," the old man said, folding his hands over the head of his cane. "Go crawling back to whatever prison friends you have, beg your worthless adopted family for scraps; I don't care how you do it. Bring me the money and prove you're capable of protecting her and that boy. Or step aside and let her finish what she started."

"Two days," Alfred repeated slowly, one eyebrow lifting, "to raise a hundred million dollars."

"Is that already too much for you?" the old man sneered. "Then sign the divorce papers and let this family move forward."

"She isn't signing anything." Alfred's voice. "I'll have the money by tomorrow, and you will never threaten my wife with a contract again."

"Tomorrow?"

The word hit the room like a slap of its own. Every eye turned to him, wide with disbelief, searching his face for some sign that he was joking.

Had prison broken something in his mind?

Did he actually believe a hundred million dollars was pocket change he could produce overnight?

What kind of man walked into a room full of people who despised him and made a promise like that with a straight face?