The Savior God of War Returns

Chapter 4

Michael Wilson sneered.

“Regret? Son, the only thing I regret is allowing a man like you to breathe the same air as us.”

His wife, Patricia, stepped beside him, her expression twisted with disdain.

“You think throwing around some dusty old contract makes you a part of this family? Look at yourself—your suit looks borrowed, your shoes have creases, and your name carries no weight.”

Laughter rippled through the wealthy guests again.

Murmurs floated like poison in the air.

“Who does he think he is?”

“Probably borrowed that contract off the internet.”

“Pathetic. He must be delusional.”

Jack stood straight, his face unreadable.

He had endured worse.

He wasn’t here for their approval.

He was here for honour.

Jack’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch.

The marriage contract in his hand wasn’t just a piece of paper.

It was a legacy.

A promise between two men—his grandfather and George Wilson—made in a time of desperation and trust.

And if they had known who he really was—what Old Joe had left him—they would’ve begged to kiss the ground he walked on.

“I think that’s enough.”

Emily’s voice cut through the mocking air.

She stepped forward, arms crossed, her crimson dress catching the light like dying embers.

Her face was cold, composed—but her brows twitched in quiet irritation.

She turned to Jack.

“My grandfather is currently receiving medical care overseas. Whatever this contract is, I’ll have him confirm it later. Until then…”

She took the document from his hand and scanned it.

Her eyes lingered at the bottom.

A small flicker of disbelief crossed her face.

The red wax stamp was unmistakable.

George Wilson’s personal seal.

Impossible to forge.

Her fingers trembled—slightly—but she masked it with a scoff and shoved the paper back into Jack’s chest.

“You can stay. Eat. Smile. But don’t embarrass my family any further in front of our guests.”

She said coolly, her words slicing through the hush.

“This isn’t a village wedding, Mr. Parker. Don’t mistake our courtesy for acceptance.”

She walked away without waiting for a response.

Laughter erupted again, louder now.

Ryan Brooks, standing beside the table, sipping champagne, leaned in with a grin.

“You heard her, buddy. Stay quiet, chew slowly, and try not to look too poor near the wine glasses.”

Jack gave him a steady look, then turned to Emily.

“Why don’t you call your grandfather now?”

She stopped mid-step.

“I’m not waiting for later,” Jack said. “Let him speak for himself.”

Emily looked annoyed.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She took out her phone, tapped quickly, then placed it on speaker.

“Grandpa?”

She asked when the call connected.

“Emily, darling. Happy New Year’s.”

Came the tired but warm voice of George Wilson.

“Thank you. Listen… there’s someone here. A man named Jack Parker. He claims you signed a marriage agreement with his grandfather?”

A pause.

George exhaled.

“Jack… Parker?”

Jack stepped forward.

“Mr. Wilson, I am Joseph Parker’s grandson.”

George’s voice was clearer now.

“Joseph Parker… yes. Yes, I remember. That man once saved our family from ruin. Lent us a million dollars when no one else would.”

Gasps echoed through the hall.

George continued, “In return, I… arranged a marriage between you and Emily. It was a symbolic agreement, forged out of gratitude. We even stamped and signed it, yes.”

Emily frowned.

“Grandpa, are you saying it’s real?”

“I am. But times change, Emily. I was desperate back then. Perhaps it was a hasty decision. If you want to cancel the agreement… I understand.”

Michael stepped forward.

“Good. We’ll return the money.”

Jack’s eyes were unreadable.

“The money was a gift. You don’t owe me anything.”

Emily, however, took a different route.

Her eyes lit up with relief.

“Perfect,” she said.

She plucked a chequebook from her clutch, scribbled quickly, and held out the slip.

“One million dollars,” she said. “Take it. We’re not equals, Jack. You and I—we’re from two different worlds. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Jack looked at the check, then back at her.

“You think money is what I came for?”

Emily's tone turned colder.

“Take the money. Live quietly. Don’t chase things that were never meant for you.”

Ryan snorted.

“He’ll probably go buy a cheap suit and pretend to be a CEO for a day.”

Jack smiled faintly, then reached for the check.

Everyone watched, expecting him to pocket it like a desperate man.

Instead, he held it between two fingers.

And then, in front of everyone, he tore it clean down the middle.

Gasps.

Not once did he raise his voice.

Then he took the contract from inside his coat—yellowed by age, ink faded but still visible.

He looked at it for a moment.

Then tore it too.

The pieces fluttered down slowly, like snowflakes, each shred drifting past glittering gowns and shocked expressions.

“Wha—” Emily blinked. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t need your money"