The Savior God of War Returns

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 runs Chambers Investments. Perhaps we could discuss opportunities over lunch sometime?"

Another guest, a silver-haired man in an expensive suit, extended his hand toward Jack. "Franklin Pierce, real estate. I've got some prime locations that might interest someone of your... caliber."

Jack observed the sudden shift with quiet amusement. Human nature was predictable—power attracted power, and weakness invited abandonment.

He picked up a napkin from a nearby table, deliberately wiped his hands, and tossed it at Ryan's feet.

"You're not worth my time," Jack said, his voice soft but carrying across the silent room.

Ryan remained on his knees, his cheek still burning from Jack's slaps, humiliation radiating from him in waves.

William Thompson stepped forward, his presence commanding the room's attention. "The Wilson family seems to have forgotten what honor means," he said, each word measured and precise. "They've forgotten the debt they owe to Joseph Parker, who saved them from ruin when nobody else would extend a hand."

Michael attempted to stand. "Mr. Thompson, please, there's been a misunderstanding—"

"Silence!" William's voice cracked like a whip. "You welcomed this man with mockery. You offered him money like he was a beggar at your door. You forgot that without his grandfather, the Wilson name would be nothing but dust in Harmonfield's history."

Emily's mind raced. Who was Jack Parker, really? How could he command such respect from the Thompsons? If they had known, if they had just known...

"Mr. Thompson," she began, her voice uncharacteristically small. "We had no idea—"

"That's precisely the point, Miss Wilson," Sarah Thompson interjected, her gaze cold as winter. "You judged a man by his appearance rather than his character. That speaks volumes about yours."

The silence in the room was deafening.

William took a step closer to Jack. "I owe you a debt, Mr. Parker. My daughter would not be alive if not for your intervention earlier today."

Whispers erupted throughout the ballroom.

"It was him?" "He saved Sarah Thompson?" "No wonder William is treating him like royalty..."

Emily's head snapped toward Jack, disbelief etched across her features. "You saved Sarah? When? How?"

Jack didn't answer. He didn't owe her an explanation.

William placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I won't forget what you did. The Thompson family stands with you, whatever you need."

"I appreciate that," Jack replied simply.

Sarah stepped forward then, her movements graceful despite the bandage visible under her elegant gown. She approached Jack with purpose, her eyes never leaving his.

For the first time since entering the ballroom, Jack felt something stir within him—a quiet fascination. Sarah Thompson was striking—not just in beauty but in presence. There was steel beneath her elegance, a dangerous edge to her sophistication.

"Jack," she said, her voice low enough that only those closest could hear, "I want you to be my personal guest at the Thompson estate tomorrow evening. A small gathering, nothing like this circus." Her eyes flickered dismissively around the room.

Emily's jaw tightened as she watched the exchange. The Thompson heiress was showing interest in Jack—the man who was supposed to be her fiancé. A strange, unfamiliar pang shot through her chest. Not jealousy, she told herself. Wounded pride, perhaps.

"I'm not particularly social," Jack replied, the same answer he'd given William earlier.

Sarah's lips curved into a smile. "Neither am I. That's why I'm asking."

Something passed between them—a silent understanding, a recognition of kindred spirits.

"Very well," Jack conceded with a slight nod.

Emily stepped forward, attempting to salvage something from the wreckage of the evening. "Mr. Thompson," she said, her voice steadier now, professional. "While we're all here, I was hoping we might discuss the Eastvale Ecological Project. The Wilson Group has prepared a comprehensive proposal that I believe would benefit—"

"I'm busy," Sarah cut her off without even glancing in her direction.

The rejection was so abrupt, so cold, that Emily's face flushed crimson. Several guests failed to hide their smirks.

William checked his watch. "It's nearly midnight. I believe we've taken enough of everyone's time." He turned to Jack. "My car is waiting outside. Would you care to join us for a nightcap at the estate?"

Before Jack could respond, Daniel Thompson, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation, stepped forward. "Father, I believe Mr. Parker might prefer his own space tonight. After all, he's only just arrived in Harmonfield."

William seemed to consider this. "Of course. My apologies for presuming."

Jack inclined his head in acknowledgment. "No offense taken."

"Tomorrow evening, then," Sarah confirmed, her eyes lingering on Jack's face. "Eight o'clock. I'll send a car."

As the Thompsons prepared to leave, Ryan Brooks finally found his voice. He staggered to his feet, his face still red from Jack's slaps. "This isn't over," he hissed, quiet enough that only Jack could hear. "You humiliated me in front of everyone. I don't care who's protecting you—you'll pay for this."

Jack regarded him with mild interest. "Threats already? You recover quickly."

"You have no idea who I am," Ryan spat.

"On the contrary," Jack replied calmly. "I know exactly who you are. A pampered child playing at being a man. Go home, Ryan. While you still can."

Something in Jack's tone must have penetrated Ryan's anger, because he took an involuntary step back.

The Thompsons moved toward the exit, the crowd parting before them like water. Jack followed at his own pace, unhurried.

As he passed Emily, he paused briefly. "You tore up our contract," he said. "Consider yourself free of any obligation to me."

Emily's throat tightened. "Jack—"

"It's Mr. Parker to you," he corrected her, his voice devoid of emotion. "We're strangers now, Miss Wilson. As you said, we're from different worlds."

With that, he continued toward the door, leaving the Wilson family standing amidst the wreckage of their social standing.

Patricia clutched her husband's arm. "Michael, what do we do?" she whispered frantically. "The Thompsons—they've practically blacklisted us!"

Michael's eyes were fixed on Jack's retreating back. "Who is he?" he muttered. "How could we have missed this? How could we not have known?"

Emily remained silent, watching as Jack disappeared through the ballroom doors. Something had shifted tonight—something fundamental. The man she had dismissed so easily had turned out to be someone with power she couldn't comprehend.

And deep down, beneath her shock and humiliation, a small voice whispered a troubling thought: What if she had made the worst mistake of her life?

Outside, the night air was crisp and clean. Jack stood on the steps of the Wilson building, breathing in the winter scent of Harmonfield.

"Mr. Parker," came William Thompson's voice from behind him. "My offer stands. Our home is open to you at any time."

Jack turned. "Why?"

William seemed surprised by the directness of the question. "You saved my daughter's life today. That creates a bond between us whether you wish it or not."

Jack considered this. "I didn't save her for recognition."

"Which makes it all the more worthy of recognition," William replied.

Daniel Thompson stepped forward. "Father's right. We owe you a debt that can't be repaid. But more than that—" he hesitated, glancing at his father.

"More than that," William continued, "we recognize what you are, Jack Parker."

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly. "And what am I, exactly?"

William smiled, a rare, genuine expression on his typically stern face. "A man like us. A man who understands that true power isn't shown—it's felt."

Sarah, standing a few steps below, looked up at Jack with those piercing eyes. "You're different," she said simply. "In a city full of people pretending to be something they're not, you made no effort to be anything but yourself. That's... refreshing."