2025-04-28 23:48:08I don’t need your money.”
Jack Parker’s voice was calm, quiet, but firm—too composed for someone who had just been humiliated in front of a hall full of people. He stood tall, hands loosely at his sides, eyes unreadable as he faced Emily Wilson. Emily's eyebrows twitched in irritation. She had expected tears, shouting, even desperate begging. But not this—never this arrogant composure. "Are you serious right now?" She snapped, folding her arms. "You think walking away like some noble hero makes you look strong? You came here with nothing, and now you're leaving with even less. Do you think you’re too good for a million dollars?" Before Jack could answer, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom swung open with a sudden creak. The room fell silent. A gasp rippled through the crowd as three figures stepped into the golden light of the New Year celebration—William Thompson, Sarah Thompson, and Daniel Thompson. The Thompsons. The most powerful family in Harmonfield. Emily’s eyes widened. The wine glass in her hand trembled slightly. “They came here?” Someone whispered from the side. “This is just a second-tier party... Why would they show up?” Michael Wilson straightened his jacket, his face flushing with both surprise and excitement. He quickly made his way forward, followed by his wife, to greet them. “Mr. William, what an honour. If we had known you were coming, we would've—” But William didn’t even glance at him. His steel-blue eyes scanned the room until they landed on Jack Parker. He walked forward without hesitation, ignoring the Wilsons entirely. Jack’s brow lifted subtly at the sight. Daniel gave him a nod of acknowledgement. “Jack Parker.” William said, stopping before him. His voice was warm, respectful. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Would you do me the honour of joining me for a drink at my home?” The room seemed to collectively forget how to breathe. Jack’s lips curved ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson.” He said, his voice smooth “But I don’t particularly enjoy social visits.” Gasps echoed. “What did he just say?” “Did he just… refuse William Thompson?” “He turned down a Thompson invite—just like that?!” Emily's jaw dropped. Even Michael looked frozen in place. Ryan Brooks, standing nearby with a scowl on his face, looked completely baffled. Whispers grew louder. “Who is this guy?” “Wait, is he someone important after all?” “Why would the Thompsons treat him like this?” Ryan's face turned red with fury. “Enough of this circus!” He shouted, striding toward Jack. “You think you’re someone special, huh? Apologise to Mr. Thompson right now or I swear—I’ll break your legs!” Jack turned around slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ll do what?” Ryan sneered and reached for him. Big mistake. Jack's hand shot forward, grabbing a fistful of Ryan’s neatly combed hair. With a twist and a push, he slammed Ryan to his knees. The sound of bone hitting marble echoed like a warning bell. Then came the slaps. One. Two. Three. Each one is sharp and deliberate. The crowd flinched at the sound. Ryan’s cheek turned red and swollen. His eyes were wide with disbelief, his mouth slightly open. No one had ever dared touch him like that. No one. Emily rushed forward, livid. “Jack, what the hell is wrong with you?! That was completely uncalled for!” She stood between him and Ryan, her eyes blazing. “You think this makes you strong? You’re just a poor man lashing out to feel powerful. You assaulted Ryan in front of everyone—you’ll regret this! The Brooks family won’t let this go!” Jack said nothing. He didn’t need to. “I suggest you apologise.” Emily demanded. “Now!” “Apologise?” A voice echoed across the room. Everyone turned. Sarah Thompson had stepped forward. Her icy blue eyes landed on Emily with disdain. “You’re nothing but a spoiled brat,” she said coldly. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Emily’s mouth opened, then closed. “If any of you—Wilson or Brooks—dare to lay a hand on Mr. Parker again, I promise you, the Thompson family will wipe both of your names off this city’s map.” The silence was absolute. All colour drained from Michael Wilson’s face. His wife clutched his arm, trembling. The other guests exchanged panicked glances. “But… why?” Someone whispered. “Why would they protect him?” Michael took a tentative step forward, forcing a strained smile. “Mr. Thompson, I think there’s been some misunderstanding. Are you… Are you sure he hasn’t tricked you?” William turned his gaze toward Michael. That one look could’ve frozen a flame. “There’s no misunderstanding,” William said quietly. “Mr. Parker is our honoured guest.” Michael's throat bobbed. “And as for Ryan Brooks—” William turned to where the young man was still kneeling, dazed. “It was the Wilsons who allowed a thug like that to insult Mr. Parker at their event. You should consider yourself fortunate that he was so lenient.” Every person in the ballroom felt the temperature drop. Tension crackled in the air like thunder before a storm. William then turned back to Jack. “Just say the word,” he said softly, “and we’ll make both the Brooks family and the Wilsons disappear.”
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The ballroom froze in a collective inhale. William Thompson's words—"we'll make both the Brooks family and the Wilsons disappear"—hung in the air like a vapor of ice.Michael Wilson's knees gave way. He sank into a nearby chair, his face ashen, eyes unfocused. Patricia clutched her husband's shoulder, her knuckles white with tension. Emily stood motionless, her crimson dress suddenly feeling too tight, too warm, too visible."I—I don't understand," Michael finally managed, his voice a raspy whisper. "What have we done to deserve this?"William Thompson's steel-blue eyes narrowed. "You've insulted a man worth ten of you, Wilson."The guests began to shift uncomfortably, exchanging glances and subtle nods. Like animals sensing a storm, they began migrating away from the Wilsons, gravitating toward Jack's side of the room.A woman who had laughed at Jack's clothes just minutes earlier now edged closer to him, her smile unnaturally bright. "Mr. Parker, I'm Victoria Chambers. My husband ru
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Sarah Thompson's eyes never left Jack's face as she stepped closer, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the ballroom. The crystal chandeliers cast golden light across her features, highlighting the determination in her gaze."Jack," she said, her voice clear and unwavering, "I want you to be my boyfriend."The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before the room erupted into gasps and whispers. Wine glasses froze halfway to lips. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the jazz quartet in the corner missed a note, the saxophone trailing off into silence."Did she just—?" "Sarah Thompson? THE Sarah Thompson?" "Is this actually happening?"Emily Wilson felt her world tilt sideways. The crimson dress she wore suddenly felt too tight, too hot, too visible. Her cheeks burned with a mixture of humiliation and disbelief. Just minutes ago, she had dismissed Jack as beneath her—and now Sarah Thompson, CEO of the Thompson Group and arguably the most powerful woman in Harmonfield
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Ryan Brooks noticed Emily's gaze lingering on the window long after the Thompson cars had disappeared into the night. Her fingers gripped the champagne flute too tightly, her knuckles white against the crystal."Don't look so worried," Ryan said, stepping closer. His cheek still bore the red mark of Jack's hand, but his confidence had returned—bolstered by alcohol and anger. "The Eastvale Project isn't lost yet."Emily turned to him, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"Ryan smiled, straightening his tie with practiced casualness. "My father had a meeting with Olivia West last week. From Alphacrest Group."Emily's breath caught. "Olivia West? You're not serious.""Dead serious," Ryan replied, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "They're considering a ten-billion-dollar stake in the project. And my father wants to give the Wilson family thirty percent of our share."The name Olivia West sent a ripple of excitement through Emily. Everyone in Harmonfield's business circles knew her s
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The snow fell in thick flakes across the darkened road as Jack assessed the situation. These weren't ordinary thugs like those who had attacked Sarah earlier—their positioning, their stealth, the way they moved through the trees with practiced precision—these were professionals."Someone paid a lot for this kind of talent," Jack said quietly, his breath creating small clouds in the frigid air. "These aren't street criminals—they're trained killers."William's face was grim in the dim light. "Victor spares no expense when it comes to revenge.""Victor?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "The same name you mentioned in the car."William nodded, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the headlights. "Victor Krane. We were once friends—business partners even. But that was thirty years ago.""What happened?" Jack asked, keeping his voice low as he tracked the shadows moving between the trees."We both loved the same woman—Angela. Sarah's grandmother." William's voice grew heavy with memory. "Angela c
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Jack Parker didn’t hesitate as he zipped up the sleek, black duffel bag resting at the foot of his bed. The leather caught the light from the window, pale rays of morning slicing across the room like the calm before a storm. He fastened the last strap and turned, his dark green coat already draped over one arm, his movements precise and unhurried. "Draconia awaits," he murmured to himself, voice low but composed. Old Joe stood nearby in his eccentric glory, dressed in a purple kimono patterned with cranes. He sipped jasmine tea, surrounded by three impossibly beautiful women who lounged lazily across the plush divan as though they had all the time in the world. "You remember what I told you, boy?" Old Joe asked, not looking up. Jack nodded. "Yes. Don’t draw attention. Don’t start a war." Joe finally met his gaze, eyes glinting like fire under ash. “That dragon dagger—only draw it when necessary. And that card—” He tossed a leopard-print credit card toward Jack, who caught
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All eyes turned toward the grand staircase at the far end of the hall.There, standing in a crimson dress that shimmered like firelight, was Emily Wilson."It's over."Someone muttered from the crowd, breaking the stunned silence.“His lie will soon be exposed because Miss Emily has arrived!”Whispered another guest, leaning toward her companion.“We’ll soon see livestock being dragged from this party.”A young man snorted, earning laughter from the group around him.Jack heard it all.The whispers.The sneers.The laughter.But he didn’t flinch.If that woman truly was Emily Wilson—his fiancée—then he needed to be certain.With steady steps, Jack pushed through the crowd, unfazed by the murmurs or the expensive perfumes that filled the air.He stopped just a few feet in front of the staircase, gazing up at the woman who had caused such a stir.“Are you Emily?”Jack asked, his voice calm and even.Emily’s heels clicked gently as she descended the steps, her expression unreadable.She
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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
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The snow fell in thick flakes across the darkened road as Jack assessed the situation. These weren't ordinary thugs like those who had attacked Sarah earlier—their positioning, their stealth, the way they moved through the trees with practiced precision—these were professionals."Someone paid a lot for this kind of talent," Jack said quietly, his breath creating small clouds in the frigid air. "These aren't street criminals—they're trained killers."William's face was grim in the dim light. "Victor spares no expense when it comes to revenge.""Victor?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "The same name you mentioned in the car."William nodded, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the headlights. "Victor Krane. We were once friends—business partners even. But that was thirty years ago.""What happened?" Jack asked, keeping his voice low as he tracked the shadows moving between the trees."We both loved the same woman—Angela. Sarah's grandmother." William's voice grew heavy with memory. "Angela c
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Sarah Thompson's eyes never left Jack's face as she stepped closer, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the ballroom. The crystal chandeliers cast golden light across her features, highlighting the determination in her gaze."Jack," she said, her voice clear and unwavering, "I want you to be my boyfriend."The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before the room erupted into gasps and whispers. Wine glasses froze halfway to lips. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the jazz quartet in the corner missed a note, the saxophone trailing off into silence."Did she just—?" "Sarah Thompson? THE Sarah Thompson?" "Is this actually happening?"Emily Wilson felt her world tilt sideways. The crimson dress she wore suddenly felt too tight, too hot, too visible. Her cheeks burned with a mixture of humiliation and disbelief. Just minutes ago, she had dismissed Jack as beneath her—and now Sarah Thompson, CEO of the Thompson Group and arguably the most powerful woman in Harmonfield
Chapter 6
The ballroom froze in a collective inhale. William Thompson's words—"we'll make both the Brooks family and the Wilsons disappear"—hung in the air like a vapor of ice.Michael Wilson's knees gave way. He sank into a nearby chair, his face ashen, eyes unfocused. Patricia clutched her husband's shoulder, her knuckles white with tension. Emily stood motionless, her crimson dress suddenly feeling too tight, too warm, too visible."I—I don't understand," Michael finally managed, his voice a raspy whisper. "What have we done to deserve this?"William Thompson's steel-blue eyes narrowed. "You've insulted a man worth ten of you, Wilson."The guests began to shift uncomfortably, exchanging glances and subtle nods. Like animals sensing a storm, they began migrating away from the Wilsons, gravitating toward Jack's side of the room.A woman who had laughed at Jack's clothes just minutes earlier now edged closer to him, her smile unnaturally bright. "Mr. Parker, I'm Victoria Chambers. My husband ru
Chapter 5
I don’t need your money.”Jack Parker’s voice was calm, quiet, but firm—too composed for someone who had just been humiliated in front of a hall full of people.He stood tall, hands loosely at his sides, eyes unreadable as he faced Emily Wilson.Emily's eyebrows twitched in irritation.She had expected tears, shouting, even desperate begging.But not this—never this arrogant composure."Are you serious right now?"She snapped, folding her arms."You think walking away like some noble hero makes you look strong? You came here with nothing, and now you're leaving with even less. Do you think you’re too good for a million dollars?"Before Jack could answer, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom swung open with a sudden creak.The room fell silent.A gasp rippled through the crowd as three figures stepped into the golden light of the New Year celebration—William Thompson, Sarah Thompson, and Daniel Thompson.The Thompsons.The most powerful family in Harmonfield.Emily’s eyes widened.The w
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
Chapter 3
All eyes turned toward the grand staircase at the far end of the hall.There, standing in a crimson dress that shimmered like firelight, was Emily Wilson."It's over."Someone muttered from the crowd, breaking the stunned silence.“His lie will soon be exposed because Miss Emily has arrived!”Whispered another guest, leaning toward her companion.“We’ll soon see livestock being dragged from this party.”A young man snorted, earning laughter from the group around him.Jack heard it all.The whispers.The sneers.The laughter.But he didn’t flinch.If that woman truly was Emily Wilson—his fiancée—then he needed to be certain.With steady steps, Jack pushed through the crowd, unfazed by the murmurs or the expensive perfumes that filled the air.He stopped just a few feet in front of the staircase, gazing up at the woman who had caused such a stir.“Are you Emily?”Jack asked, his voice calm and even.Emily’s heels clicked gently as she descended the steps, her expression unreadable.She
Chapter 2
Jack arrived at the Wilson Group building during their extravagant New Year's Eve party.The place was all glitter and gleam—champagne towers, white marble floors shining like mirrors, and chandeliers that looked like they'd cost more than a small house.Luxury cars lined the valet like a showroom of excess.The guests, draped in designer gowns and custom-tailored suits, mingled beneath cascading curtains of gold and silver.Jack, in contrast, wore a plain black coat, dark jeans, and well-worn boots.The doorman raised an eyebrow at first, scanning him from head to toe.But Jack gave a nod so calm, so assured, it confused him."Invitation, sir?"The doorman asked, hesitating.Jack smiled faintly."Not on me. But I’m expected."There was something about his tone—low, measured, almost too polite—that made the man step aside."Of course, sir. Happy New Year."Jack inclined his head.“Likewise.”Inside, the party was a swirl of champagne flutes and superficial laughter.A jazz band played
Chapter 1
Jack Parker didn’t hesitate as he zipped up the sleek, black duffel bag resting at the foot of his bed. The leather caught the light from the window, pale rays of morning slicing across the room like the calm before a storm. He fastened the last strap and turned, his dark green coat already draped over one arm, his movements precise and unhurried. "Draconia awaits," he murmured to himself, voice low but composed. Old Joe stood nearby in his eccentric glory, dressed in a purple kimono patterned with cranes. He sipped jasmine tea, surrounded by three impossibly beautiful women who lounged lazily across the plush divan as though they had all the time in the world. "You remember what I told you, boy?" Old Joe asked, not looking up. Jack nodded. "Yes. Don’t draw attention. Don’t start a war." Joe finally met his gaze, eyes glinting like fire under ash. “That dragon dagger—only draw it when necessary. And that card—” He tossed a leopard-print credit card toward Jack, who caught
