The Useless Husband Is A Secret Young Master

Chapter 8: Filthy Church Rat

Chapter 8

The grand hall of the White House International Auction exploded into total chaos.

Sandra's hysterical shrieks and Julian's frantic accusations spread through the crowd like wild fire. The surrounding billionaires, already stressed by the sudden presence of federal agents and the freezing of state funds, began to panic. To them, the sudden collapse of authority was terrifying. If the Governor could fall in seconds, none of their fortunes were safe.

"He's a fraud! The whole thing is a scam!" Julian screamed again, his eyes bloodshot, his hair completely disheveled as he pointed wildly at Liam. "Look at him! He's using fake federal papers to rob us! If we let him leave with that ring, this entire city's economy will collapse!"

"He's right!" a high-ranking regional director shouted from the third row, standing up in a panic. "How can a man on a broken wooden chair command the Federal Reserve? It's a coup!"

"Grab him! Don't let him leave!" another investor yelled.

Within moments, the room turned into a raging riot. The veneer of high society shattered into pieces. Wealthy executives tossed chairs aside, pushing past security guards, screaming accusations, and surging toward the back of the hall like an angry mob. They were terrified, confused, and desperate to protect their own interests, convinced that Liam was a master thief playing a terrifying game.

Liam stood his ground in front of the creaking wooden chair, his posture rigid, shielding little Lily behind his tall frame. Old Blackwoods had already slipped away through the stage curtains with a squad of elite guards to safely secure the Black Diamond Jade Ring from the vault, leaving Liam momentarily isolated near the rear exit.

Liam looked at the surging crowd, his dark eyes turning dangerously sharp. His voice boomed out across the roaring room, cold, steady, and terrifyingly clear.

"Back down!" Liam warned, his tone carrying an authority that made the front line of the mob hesitate for a fraction of a second. "Step back right now, or every single one of you will regret this for the rest of your natural lives!"

For a second, a heavy silence fell over the front line. But fear and mob mentality quickly took over again.

"Don't listen to him! He's bluffing!" Sandra screamed from the middle of the aisle, her face contorted with pure hatred and desperation. "He's just a weak house boy! He can't do anything to you!"

Driven mad by the absolute destruction of his family's legacy and the sudden collapse of his father's empire, Julian snapped completely. All reason left his mind. His hand dove under his suit jacket, wrapping around the cold steel grip of a concealed revolver his father's bodyguards had smuggled inside.

"You ruined my life, you filthy church rat!" Julian roared.

Julian pulled the gun, cocked the hammer, and fired point-blank.

BANG!

The deafening gunshot echoed off the high marble ceiling, instantly freezing the entire room.

Liam gasped as a white-hot, agonizing pain tore through his abdomen. The force of the bullet knocked him backward against the wall. He stumbled, his hand instinctively clapping over his right side as crimson blood began to gush rapidly between his fingers, staining his pristine tailored shirt.

"Daddy!" little Lily screamed, her tiny voice filled with absolute terror as she fell to her knees beside him.

Liam sank down against the cold wall, his legs giving out completely. Pain exploded through his chest like liquid fire. His vision blurred, swimming with red and dark spots as he gasped frantically for air, his lungs refusing to take in oxygen.

"Help..." Liam choked out, his voice a hoarse, ragged whisper as he clutched his bleeding stomach. "Help me..."

The mob gasped, stumbling backward in horror at the sight of blood. But no one stepped forward. No one reached out to help. The high-society guests simply stared, whispering in shock, terrified of getting involved in a murder scene.

Julian stood there with the smoking gun in his hand, laughing like a maniac, before two late-arriving security officers finally tackled him to the floor, wrestling the weapon from his hands.

Sandra walked slowly down the aisle, looking down at Liam as he lay pool of his own blood, gasping like a fish out of water. Her heart did not soften for even a single second. Instead, a cold, cruel smile touched her lips.

She turned her back on him, raising her voice so the entire room and the gathering media reporters could hear her clearly.

"Everyone, just ignore him!" Sandra announced loudly, her tone dripping with utter contempt and false confidence. "Look at him overacting! He is only lying that he is in pain! It is all just a pathetic act to get out of the bet he made! He is using fake blood to make us feel sorry for him!"

The media reporters, who had just rushed into the back hall through the fire doors, immediately raised their professional cameras. Flashbulbs went off like blinding lightning, capturing frame after frame of Liam lying helpless on the floor while Sandra stood over him with a sneer, completely dismissing his life-threatening injury.

"He's an actor!" Sandra sneered down at him, leaning close to his ear. "Keep playing dead, Liam. It suits you."

Liam's breathing grew shallower. His vision was fading fast into total darkness. The cold stone floor felt ice-cold against his skin, and the chaotic sounds of flashbulbs, yelling, and crying began to echo as if underwater. He was drowning in his own blood, helpless, completely abandoned by the world he had tried to navigate.

Suddenly, the heavy ring of media reporters was pushed aside.

"Move! Get out of the way!" a voice called out.

A young woman pushed through the crowd. She appeared quiet and shy, wearing a simple, modest dress that stood out against the ocean of designer gowns around her. Her face was pale with deep concern, her frame small, but her movements were filled with absolute urgency and purpose.

She did not care about the flashing cameras. She did not care about Sandra's cruel warnings or the lingering danger in the room.

She dropped to her knees right in the middle of the fresh pool of blood, completely unbothered by the heavy red stains ruining her dress.

"Stay with me!" she pleaded gently, her voice sweet, soft, and trembling with genuine compassion. "Please, hold on! Keep breathing!"

She quickly placed her trembling hands over his bleeding wound, applying firm pressure to stop the flow before tilting his head back to clear his airway. She immediately interlocked her fingers, placed them squarely on his chest, and began performing crisp, rhythmic CPR compressions, leaning her entire body weight into every push to keep his heart pumping.

"One... two... three... come on, fight!" she whispered desperately, tears welling in her eyes as she fought with everything she had to save his life.

Liam managed to force his heavy eyelids open one last time.

Through the thick, hazy darkness closing in on his mind, he looked up at the stranger kneeling over him, working frantically to keep him alive while everyone else watched him suffer.

The harsh glare of the auction spotlights caught her face from above, illuminating her soft features, her delicate skin, and her stunning golden hair that fell around her shoulders like a warm halo. But what captured his fading heart were her eyes—striking, deep hazel eyes filled with pure, unselfish kindness and tender worry.

She looked just like a guardian angel sent down to rescue him from the dark abyss.

Liam tried to speak, tried to thank her, but no sound came out. His chest gave one final, weak heave, his hand slipped from her knee, and he fainted completely, slipping into total darkness.