The Warlord's Vengeance

Chapter 6

Cassian had spent the night on the cold doorstep. Before dawn he slipped out, bought a bag of warm fried dough sticks and two little cartons of milk. He came back to the iron door where Ardenne and Emma slept. The room smelled of damp, of old rain, and a faint bleach from the public restroom nearby. No table, no chairs, nothing that felt like a home. So, they carried breakfast to the park bench outside, huddled close to share the tiny warmth of the meal.

Ardenne attacked the dough sticks like a tiny tornado. Three sticks vanished before Cassian could blink. She gulped down the milk cartons, one after the other, then threw her head back and squealed. “Woo—Mummy! This is the best ever! My belly’s so full!” Her laugh was wild, pure, and Cassian felt like his chest might crack from it.

Ardenne watched her, smiling softly. Cassian’s throat tightened. He wanted to scoop them both up and never let go, feel them safe forever. But he just sat still, letting the park bench be enough for now.

The walk to Ardenne’s school passed the old resettlement blocks. The kindergarten squeezed into a low, tired building, windows small, paint peeling on the stairwell. Eight kids, patched clothes, messy hair, scrambled around inside. Ardenne waved to them all, hugging tightly before running back to Cassia. She cupped his cheek, gave him a ridiculous exaggerated wink, then slipped into class. Behind the teacher’s back, she whispered, “Dad—good luck,” and made a silly face. Cassian just smiled and nodded.

Ardenne hurried on toward the bus stop, glancing back at him. “I’m going to the office,” she said. “Why are you coming with me?”

Cassian shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I’m not leaving you two alone yet,” he said softly.

His gaze flicked to Emma’s classroom, then back to Ardenne. “Some things I need to see for myself.”

“Because I will not stand by while they humiliate you,” Cassian said, quiet but hard.

Ardenne stopped, staring at him long enough for the world to shrink down. She set her jaw tight. “No violence,” she said. Eyes sharp. “If you can’t promise that… stay away. Don’t come near us. Don’t do it.”

Cassian opened his mouth, closed it. He sighed, nodding.

Forty minutes later, the glass tower loomed. Twenty floors of shiny ambition. Sylver Group, it read in cold block letters at the top.

They reached the gate. A uniformed guard stepped forward. “Stop. Who gave you permission? Do you even work here?”

Ardenne flashed her ID. “Of course I work here.”

The man sneered. “ID card? Could be fake. Who are you trying to fool?”

Cassian stepped closer. His voice was low, calm, dangerous. “Clear the way.”

The guard’s jaw tightened. “You—who do you think you are? Out! Brothers—backup!”

Security spilled through like chess pieces. Phones up, rubber batons in hand, ready to make a show.

“You think you’re strong?” one barked. “Lift a finger, we’ll make a viral spectacle of you.”

Another snorted. “Arrogant bastard—thinks he’s untouchable because he can fight a little. Fool.”

The lead clicked his walkie. “Manager—sir, the people you were waiting for are here.”

Ardenne’s lips went white. She knew the choreography: Marla’s cruelty dressed in uniforms, set to humiliate them.

Cassian’s eyes scanned them all. “I’ll say it once. Anyone who values their life—get out of the way.”

The guards laughed. “Oh? You gonna fight us?”

“We’ve got orders. We’ll finish him quick.”

The manager stepped forward, immaculate, backing his guards with the Sylver’ full weight. “Shut off your cameras,” he said. Phones blinked dark instantly.

Then, a shadow in sunglasses appeared. Marla rolled forward, bruised, swollen, mask half-lifted. Her lips were a thin line of fury. She had pushed herself here despite the doctor’s warning. Pain didn’t stop her. She wanted the spotlight. She wanted control.

“Ardenne, has your mad husband had another episode? Always daydreaming, always boasting. Pity you ended up with such a waste,” Marla spat.

Gideon Sylver materialized at her shoulder, perfectly polished. “Boasting never cost anyone a dime,” he sneered. “Go on—beg us to let you in. Make a scene. We’ll laugh.”

The guards laughed with them.

Ardenne’s face burned. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t leave Ardenne. She couldn’t lose her job. So she straightened.

“Marla, I—” Her throat closed. She forced it out. “What happened yesterday was wrong. I… I apologise on Cassian’s behalf. We’ll cover your medical expenses. Please… don’t revoke my position. Emma needs school.”

Marla pulled off the mask. The bruise looked worse. She sneered. “Phooey. You think an apology fixes this? A cheque? Pathetic. Kneel. Crawl. Maybe then I’ll forgive you.”

Ardened’s body trembled. “Don’t you dare—”

Marla cut her off, cruel and sharp. “Your fault yesterday. Don’t forget: Sylver Group is ours. And don’t forget—I’m Sylver too. And I own a piece of this company.”

Ardenne opened her mouth. “I—”

“Delusional?” Marla laughed. “You think you have a right here? Embarrassing. Know your place. Don’t kneel? Then pay. Two million. That will fix my face. Buy back dignity. Can you afford it?”

Ardenne froze. “Two million?” she whispered. “You’re shameless.”

Marla’s eyes burned like ice. “Bitch!”

“How dare you call me shameless?”

She flicked her gaze to her brother. “Gideo —teach her a lesson.”

Gideon’s lips twisted into a cruel sneer. “Oh, I’m very good at this,” he said, walking forward like a predator.

“I suggest you don’t dodge, little worker,” he taunted. “Otherwise losing your job won’t be enough punishment. Tsk, tsk… such a pretty face—slapping it should really hurt.”