The King Of Crystal Diamond Is Back

009: “I’m Having Fun.”

The stone arches of St. Jude's Cathedral stood tall under the bright sun. Inside, big colorful glass windows shone red and gold light onto white carpets that covered the long center aisle.

It was the wedding of the century.

Global media cameras lined the tall marble pillars, zooming in on powerful politicians, oil barons, and rich tycoons packed into the wooden seats.

Every seat was full of the prestige and power of the Harrison-Pentagon alliance.

At the top, on the flower-covered altar, stood Paris Pentagon. Her long lace veil trailed five feet behind her, glowing bright under the spotlights.

Beside her stood Richard Harrison, in a hand-made white tuxedo. His chest puffed out with pride and love.

They soaked up the loud applause and flashing cameras, totally sure they had conquered the world. In their minds, their business empire could never fall, and every rival was crushed under their boots.

Their oil was pumping, their wine stocks were rising, and their bank accounts were full.

At the very back of the huge cathedral, standing in the dark shadows right by the heavy oak doors, stood Chay Patrick.

He played the chauffeur low-life script to the core as he pulled his cap low over his forehead. His face was completely in shadow.

To the rich, self-obsessed crowd in front, he was invisible, just a nameless, forgotten servant in the cold corner.

Up at the altar, the senior priest adjusted his Holy Bible. His voice echoed through the high ceiling as he reached the important part of the wedding.

"If any man here can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together," the priest said, looking slowly over the silent crowd, "let him speak now, or else forever hold his peace."

Richard turned his head slightly, his arrogant eyes sweeping down the long, flower-lined aisle.

Through white roses and camera flashes, Richard's eyes caught the shadowed figure standing quietly at the very back.

A smug, victorious smirk twisted across Richard's lips.

He lifted his chin, staring toward the back for a second as if to silently say: I won.

Chay did not shake. His face stayed hidden in the dark, a cold aura of ice.

Before Richard could turn back to his bride, a sudden, loud crackle ripped through the cathedral's sound system.

The soft organ music died instantly, replaced by a harsh static hum.

Across the church, the huge digital screens framing the altar flickered once, twice, and then went pitch black.

A collective gasp rippled through the front seats as the romantic wedding pictures vanished.

In their place, glowing with bright, blinding clarity across every screen and live-stream, appeared the platinum logo of the Crystal Diamond Conglomerate.

At the same time, a wave of digital alarms rang across the front rows.

The personal phones of the lead military governor, the chief bank commissioner, and the senior tax judge buzzed violently in their pockets, vibrating with urgent secret messages.

A heavy, confused murmur swept through the rich crowd like a sudden chill.

Up at the altar, Richard's triumphant smirk slightly faded. His eyebrows tightened in sudden irritation.

"What kind of amateur technical glitch is this?" Richard muttered, glaring at the sound technicians by the side.

Beside him, Paris forced an awkward, glittering laugh, leaning toward the microphone to brush off the disruption.

"A minor network hiccup, everyone!" Paris announced, with practiced, proud amusement. "The digital age always has its little quirks. Our IT team will fix this in a second. Nothing can dim the brilliance of today!"

Nervous laughter rippled through the seats as guests reassured each other that the Harrison-Pentagon empire was far too big and powerful to be touched by a simple screen glitch.

Their businesses were still running, their credit was untouched, and they clung tightly to their illusion of safety.

Before the nervous murmuring could settle, a heavily built, corrupt security chief hired by the Pentagons shoved his way down the center aisle.

His face was red with angry embarrassment, thinking some low-level prankster was ruining the wedding feed.

His eyes locked onto the shadowed figure standing quietly by the back doors.

"You!" the security chief snarled, pushing past seats and charging toward Chay with a heavy hand to grab his collar and throw him into the street. "Did you touch the master control panel, you worthless piece of trash?"

Chay did not even turn his head.

He didn't raise his hands, nor did he move his feet one inch.

In the split second before the guard's fingers could touch his uniform, Chay made a single, effortless, tiny shift of his right shoulder, a precise, sharp burst of power channeled backward through his spine.

It looked like nothing more than adjusting his posture. But the invisible force moved through the air like a slammed iron door.

Bang.

The shockwave slammed right into the center of the security chief's chest.

The six-foot-two guard let out a choked, terrified gasp, his eyes bulging as his balance instantly shattered.

His heavy body flew backward off his feet, crashing violently against a solid stone pillar with a sickening crunch that rattled the candle holders above.

The guard slid down the pillar, dropping hard to his knees before collapsing face-first onto the cold floor, trembling in silent shock.

The nearby congregation screamed, jumping out of their seats and scrambling away from the fallen man.

Absolute, breathless silence slammed over the vast cathedral. The cameras froze, while the whispering stopped.

Up at the altar, Richard and Paris stood paralyzed, jaws slack, staring down the long aisle toward the back doors.

A frantic panic blinked behind Richard's eyes, but years of arrogance quickly covered it.

Thinking the guard just had a medical stroke or slipped on the fine stone, Richard forced a tight, dismissive laugh into the microphone, waving his hand toward the back.

"The clumsy fool couldn't even stand straight on the floor," Richard announced loudly with forced bravery to calm the scared crowd. "Somebody drag this big for nothing servant out of here and throw him into the street. Let's not let an idiot ruin the most important day of the century. Prelate, continue the vows."

Paris blinked away her unease, looping her arm tightly through Richard's and tossing her head back with a haughty sneer.

"Honestly, the incompetence of hired help these days is appalling," Paris added, with absolute disdain as she looked down at the trembling guard. "A minor nuisance. Nothing more."

They were still completely blind. They had no idea who stood in the shadows. None of them could see Chay Patrick masked in the shadows and hastily concluded he did not have anything to do with the strange events.

Using a clever technological trick with his voice, Chay made his voice echo from the high ceiling and side walls at the same time.

This hid his true location, making it impossible for anyone to trace where the sound came from, while his face stayed hidden under his cap.

Looking down at the groaning guard at his feet, Chay spoke in a low, deep, metallic voice that did not sound like his normal voice, so it wouldn't ring any alarm in their minds.

"Tell them," Chay whispered into the echoing air, his gaze locked directly onto the confused, arrogant faces of Paris and Richard up at the altar, "the owner of the ladder has arrived."

Richard frowned, scanning the empty shadows near the back doors. He could not see a face, and the voice sounded unfamiliar.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"Some lunatic talking to himself," Richard muttered dismissively, turning back to his bride with a confident smile. "Ignore the madman, Paris. Let us finish our vows."

As Richard and Paris turned back to face the priest, fully believing the disturbance was just a random crazy person, the heavy doors behind Chay slowly, silently began to swing open.

Through the widening gap, the dark, armored silhouettes of federal officials and elite security teams flooded into the outer courtyard.

But they did not storm the hall; they simply held their positions, waiting for the exact moment when Chay would give the move-in order.

Chay adjusted his white gloves in the dim light, turned his back on the altar, and whispered to his comm:

“Don't move in. I'm really having fun seeing these fools live in their untouchable delusions.”