The Lawless Man With A Thousand Chains

005 Catastrophe Strikes

Vanessa pushed through the heavy front doors of the Quinn mansion with Damon right behind her.

The place already buzzed with relatives gathered for Elias's seventieth birthday. Yet the old man stood near the entrance like a sentinel, his walking stick planted on the floor.

His eyes locked on the tall stranger at her side. Could it be that his granddaughter actually found Periander Fox's disciple? Had he been worrying needlessly?

"The young man with you," Elias said, his voice tight with anticipation and nerves. "Who is he?"

Vanessa kept her chin up. "His name is Damon Huntley, Grandpa. A friend set us up. We instantly clicked, so we went to the courthouse this morning and signed the nuptial papers."

Vanessa frowned lightly and added, "I'm sorry, Grandpa. I can't honor your old marriage contract anymore."

Elias went rigid. The walking stick creaked under his grip.

His granddaughter had bound herself to some stranger instead of waiting for Periander Fox's disciple—the one man who could shield the Quinn family from the disaster the wise master had predicted?

Color drained from his face. The ground felt like it was shifting under his feet.

"You… You what?" Elias's words came out strangled. He swayed once before catching himself.

Marcus pushed away from the window, arms dropping to his sides. He had resisted Elias's marriage contract to spare his daughter from some backwoods recluse, but he wouldn't marry her to a random stranger either.

Marcus's gaze raked over the young man's plain clothes, and he scowled disapprovingly. "Kid, what do you do for a living?"

Damon didn't flinch at the question. Truth was his language. "I got out of prison recently, and haven't managed to find any work yet."

The room erupted with outbursts from the Quinn relatives. "Vanessa, what the hell have you done?"

"An ex-con under our roof? Our name will be dragged through every gutter in Dorne City!"

"Get him out! Now! I won't breathe the same air as that trash!"

Their shouts overlapped, raw, alarming, and vicious.

Vanessa's stomach twisted at her family's reaction. She was at fault for not pressing Damon harder about his past before dragging him here. A prison record changed everything.

Now she wondered if marrying her grandfather's candidate, the hermit, might have been a better decision.

Marcus's face flushed dark. He stabbed a finger towards them both. "You are getting divorced today! Or so help me God, you will stop being my daughter! Say goodbye to your inheritance!"

Vanessa turned towards Damon, her guilty eyes wide, silently begging for a solution. Damon simply shook his head once. "Sorry, we can't split up. It's too late."

Marcus whirled on him and demanded, "Why the hell not?"

"Because she's pregnant," Damon replied without missing a beat.

A heavy silence fell over the Quinn family, then shattered as Vanessa's father erupted. "What? Pregnant? Since when?"

Damon's tone stayed even and conversational, as if he were talking about the weather. "Since yesterday."

Vanessa's breath caught. Her fake husband's lie was so outrageous that she almost laughed out loud. Yesterday? They had barely spoken for a full day and hadn't even shaken hands.

Yet Damon's words hung there, bold and impossible to take back.

Marcus knew bullshit when he heard it. His fists curled at his sides. "You lying son of a—"

Elias's walking stick cracked against the marble floor like a gunshot. The sound cut through the chaos, silencing both his raging son and the noisy relatives.

"How could you do this to us, Vanessa? You've thrown everything away. The Quinn family might be extinct because of your knee-jerk decision! I'm afraid we spoiled you too much, and this is the price we must pay."

Fear and anxiety settled thick over the hall. No one moved. Elias's warning about today's disaster pressed on every chest.

The powerful protector was supposed to arrive as a son-in-law. Instead, they had been served a random ex-convict.

A rough, familiar voice rolled in from the doorway. "Happy seventieth birthday, Mr. Quinn!"

A recognizable figure walked in, trailed by a dozen men. He was none other than the Iceman, flanked by the Coldblood gang. However, the mob boss carried no cake and no smile.

Four of his goons carried a sturdy black coffin between them. The bizarre spectacle caused the room's temperature to drop. Obviously, they had not come to celebrate Elias's birthday.

Elias naturally recognized the Iceman, since he was one of the most powerful men in Dorne City.

The old man forced his spine straight. "Mr. Iceman. I don't remember stepping on your toes. What is the meaning of this?"

The Iceman's stare was flat and condescending. "You're getting old and forgetful, Elias. You hurt someone who matters to me, and I've come for payback."

"There has to be a mistake," Elias blurted out quickly. "I wouldn't dare to touch anyone under your protection."

The Iceman gave a short, ugly laugh. "Your company tore down homes in the Emerald Housing Project. One of my mistresses lived there. How are you going to pay for her mental and physical suffering?"

Elias's eyes darted for a few seconds, working through it. Then he turned to his son. "Marcus, you ran that project. What happened?"

Marcus's face went bloodless and pale. "Lord Iceman, I swear I didn't know your mistress had a residence there," he stammered.

"If I had, I never would have given the order. We will personally apologize to her and gift her a new home along with servants. The cost doesn't matter."

The Iceman's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Is that how the world works, Elias? Hurt someone and then apologize and make repairs?"

"How about I stab your son and then say sorry, paying for his medical expenses. Will that be acceptable?"

A chill ran up Elias's spine. The Iceman had butchered people for less. He might wipe out the entire Quinn family whimsically.

"Mr. Iceman. Please, there must be better solutions to this mess."

The mob boss nodded with a vicious grimace. "You have two choices, old man. You lie down in that coffin, and we will bury you alive. Or you can fill it with $600 million. Make your choice."

The Quinn family stared at the coffin like it was already swallowing them. Six hundred million was no small amount. It was worth two thousand times the mistress's house they demolished!

It would sink the Emerald Housing Project and send their major company into bankruptcy.

Obviously, burying Elias, the patriarch of the Quinn family, was unthinkable. This meant the Iceman had come to end their dynasty, one way or another.

Elias's shoulders sagged, and his eyes drooped. Periander Fox's prophetic words rang louder in his ears. The family's fortune would end today unless his disciple were married to Vanessa. But the desired son-in-law had not shown up.

It was the end for the Quinns. He had failed as its patriarch.

Before Elias could respond, a cold voice spoke up from the back. "It's his seventieth birthday—a festive day. Dragging a coffin in here on a day like this? That's quite disrespectful and cheap."

As all eyes turned towards the voice, Damon stepped forward into the light.

The Iceman and his men froze at the sound of his familiar voice and the sight of his intimidating visage.

The mob boss's eyes widened. Damon was the sovereign arts user, the arcane healer from the hotel room the night before!

This young, gifted man had singlehandedly made his goons bite the dust and healed his birth defect within seconds!

The Iceman's breath turned shallow, and he began to hyperventilate.

Why was Damon Huntley at the Quinn mansion, especially on Elias's birthday?

Did they know each other? Was this family under his protection?