The Shamed Bastard Son Who Tamed a Forbidden Angel

Chapter 2: The Slap That Changed Everything

The crack of the slap echoed across the plaza. The girl stumbled and fell, hitting the stone ground hard. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she touched her reddening face.

"You worthless piece of garbage!" John screamed, his voice breaking with rage and shame. "You're supposed to be my summon! You're supposed to be powerful! What are you?! Nothing!"

"Mr. Klein!" Professor Walsh stepped forward, his voice sharp. "That is unacceptable behavior toward a summoned—"

"Stay out of this!" Victor Klein roared, moving to stand beside his son. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Harry's angel with naked greed. "My son is understandably upset. He expected better from the Klein bloodline."

"Better than that bastard got, you mean," John spat, glaring at Harry with pure hatred. "How dare you! How dare you summon something better than me! You're nobody! You're the son of a whore! You don't deserve that angel!"

Elder Margaret's eyes gleamed as she glided forward, her cane clicking against the stone. A sinister smile spread across her aged face—the smile of a predator who'd spotted wounded prey.

"This is quite the situation," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Professor Walsh, I believe we need to discuss the technical aspects of this summoning."

Professor Walsh's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure what you mean, Elder Klein."

"Well," she continued, her smile widening, "my grandson has been officially expelled from the family, has he not?"

"Yes, but—"

"And everything he has achieved through the Klein bloodline, every advantage and power that comes from our noble heritage, was only possible because of our family's lineage, correct?"

"That's... technically true, but—"

"Then anything gained through that bloodline belongs to the Klein family," Elder Margaret announced triumphantly. "Including the angel he summoned. After all, the summoning ceremony works by calling forth beasts compatible with one's bloodline. Since the bloodline is ours, so is its result."

Harry's entire body began to tremble—not with fear, but with rage so intense it threatened to consume him. His voice came out strangled. "You can't... that's not..."

"According to the old laws," Elder Margaret continued, ignoring him, "a summoned beast must sign a contract with its summoner before the bond is official. Until that contract is signed, ownership can be transferred. Is this not correct, Professor?"

Professor Walsh's face had gone grim. "Legally, yes, but—"

"Then it's settled!" Victor Klein declared, pointing at Harry. "Boy, you will relinquish that angel to my son immediately. Hand her over, you ungrateful cur! After everything this family has done for you, keeping you fed and housed for eighteen years, this is the least you can do!"

"Fed?!" Harry's voice cracked. "You gave me scraps! You worked me like a slave! You—"

"Shut your mouth!" John screamed. "Give me that angel right now, you piece of filth! Give her to me, or I'll—"

"Enough!" Professor Walsh's voice cut through the chaos. "While transfer before contract is technically legal, coercion and violence are strictly forbidden by federal law. I cannot allow this to proceed under these circumstances."

Elder Margaret's smile never wavered. "Coercion, Professor? We're simply stating facts. That boy is now penniless, with no home and no resources. An angel of Legendary rank requires vast amounts of resources—special food, training facilities, living quarters. Without the Klein family's wealth and support, how exactly does he plan to care for her? She'll starve within a month."

"The old woman's right," someone in the crowd muttered.

"What's he going to do, feed her table scraps?"

"Poor angel, stuck with that loser."

Harry's hands clenched into fists. His mind raced, searching for a way out, any way to—

"Silence."

The single word cut through the noise like a blade of ice.

The angel behind Harry stepped forward, her six wings spreading wider. Her beautiful face was utterly cold, her eyes filled with an arrogance that made even Elder Margaret step back instinctively.

"You dare speak of contracts and ownership as if you have any say in my choice?" The angel's voice was frigid, each word precisely enunciated. "How presumptuous. How utterly pathetic."

"Now wait just a—" Victor began.

"I am Seraphiel," the angel continued, her gaze sweeping across the Klein family with obvious disdain. "Fifth Order Seraph. And I will inform you ignorant mortals of something you seem to have forgotten. Long ago, the Archangel Michael made a covenant with the Klein ancestor. We would answer the call of the Klein bloodline, yes—but only the pure-blooded heirs. Only those of legitimate lineage."

Harry's face went pale. The words hit him like physical blows.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes," Seraphiel said, not even glancing at him. Her eyes remained fixed on John, and slowly, deliberately, she smiled. "I will sign a contract with the pure-blooded Klein heir. As was agreed. As has always been the law."

John's expression transformed in an instant—from humiliation to absolute triumph. He threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing across the silent plaza.