Wrath Of The Legendary Warlord!

0003-Banquet Of Venom

The ballroom of the Royal Diamond Hotel shone with beautiful decorations and red carpets, filled with the rich smell of expensive champagne, roasted meats, and heavy designer perfumes.

The city's elite, dressed in sparkling diamonds and bespoke Italian suits, laughed softly as string music played from the balcony above.

At the center of it all stood Lady Harrison, holding a wireless microphone with a bright, proud smile painted across her face.

She loved nothing more than being the center of attention, especially when she had a fresh target to tear apart.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to tonight's esteemed charity gala," Lady Harrison spoke into the microphone, her voice dripping with fake humility that everyone in the room knew was a lie.

The crowd quieted down, turning their faces toward her with eager grins, knowing she always had some juicy gossip to share.

"As you all know, our family has recently gone through a minor cleaning of the house," Lady Harrison continued, letting out a mean, mocking laugh that echoed off the golden walls.

"We had a certain disgraced fool living under our roof, a good-for-nothing soldier named Andrew Lloyd who thought a military uniform gave him the right to leech off our hard work."

Murmurs of agreement and cruel snickers rippled through the tables at the mention of his name.

"Well, I am proud to announce that the trash has finally been thrown out into the mud where he belongs," Lady Harrison declared, raising her champagne glass high. "Let us toast to true strength, to real business, and to keeping our family name completely clean of outcasts and criminals!"

The room erupted into loud applause, glasses clinking together as the wealthy guests cheered for her public humiliation of the fallen man.

At the very front head table, sitting right beside her mother, Camella wore a cold, indifferent mask, keeping her eyes fixed firmly ahead.

She felt no pity for Andrew; in her mind, his foolish pride had brought this upon himself, dragging the family name down with him.

If anything, she was glad the embarrassment was over, eager to prove her absolute loyalty to her mother and secure her own standing in high society.

As local corporate executives leaned across the table to flatter Lady Harrison, Camella joined in smoothly, nodding along with the cruel jokes.

"Your mother is a brilliant woman, Camella," whispered Mr. Koplin, a greasy local developer who was always eager to win the Harrison family's favor. "Getting rid of that disgraced soldier Andrew was the smartest thing your family ever did. A woman like you deserves a real man, not a beggar."

"My mother only does what is best for our legacy," Camella replied coldly, her voice entirely devoid of warmth as she sipped her wine.

She thought briefly of little Stephanie being dragged out into the rain, but quickly pushed the thought away, hardening her heart to match the ruthless environment around her.

Right at that moment, her cell phone buzzed softly against the white tablecloth.

Camella glanced down quickly, expecting a standard notification, but her eyes stopped when she saw the screen.

It was a digital pharmacy alert regarding a small medical prescription for Stephanie, a basic pediatric refill that cost barely enough to register on anyone's radar.

Before Camella could dismiss it, a sharp, claw-like hand snatched the device right off the table.

Lady Harrison, having just stepped down from the microphone, stared down at the illuminated screen with a look of pure, venomous disgust.

"What is this trash?" Lady Harrison snapped aloud, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of the surrounding guests, who immediately turned to look.

Camella flushed slightly, feeling a brief flash of annoyance not at her mother, but at the intrusion. "It's just a stray notification, Mother. Give it back."

"A notification about the disgraced beggar we threw out?" Lady Harrison interrupted, scoffing loudly as she shoved the screen toward the nearby tables for everyone to see. "Look at this! Even after everything we did, some automated clinic is still linking that outcast's brat to our family accounts!"

A wave of muffled laughter swept through the nearby guests, who pointed and whispered behind their hands.

Instead of feeling shame, Camella felt a cold spike of irritation toward Andrew for continuing to be a nuisance even in his absence.

"Don't worry about it, Mother," Camella said dismissively, her tone sharp and unfeeling. "The system will block them by tomorrow. It's not worth our attention."

"You're right, it's not," Lady Harrison sneered, tossing the phone back onto the table like a piece of dirty trash. "We don't waste our time or money on stray nobodies. Let them starve in the street."

The guests nodded in agreement, praising Lady Harrison's firm standards and ruthlessness.

Far away from the shining lights, deep inside the high-tech, secure tactical terminal of the ancestral estate, the massive central monitor shone to life, broadcasting the live audio and video feed straight into the command room.

James Scoffield was beside the console, his jaw tight as he listened to Lady Harrison's toxic laughter echoing through the speakers.

"Commander," Scoffield spoke, his voice laced with cold fury, "they are standing in a public glass house throwing stones at a god. Shall I shatter their corporate sponsors right now and wipe their accounts clean before this gala even ends?"

Andrew crossed his legs across the dim light, his hands clasped behind the chair as his eyes stared still at the screen showing Lady Harrison basking in her unearned glory.

A slow, razor-sharp smile touched the corners of Andrew's lips, filled with the frightening calm of a fierce predator watching a mouse run in circles.

"Allow the Harrisons to bark," Andrew answered, his voice deep and carrying an absolute, crushing authority that sent shivers down James’ spine. "A dog celebrating on top of a garbage heap only thinks it's a king because it has never seen a mountain."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze cutting through the shadows with lethal deadliness.

"Let them drink their wine and laugh until their throats run dry," Andrew commanded coldly. "When we finally drop the axe, I want every single one of their arrogant smiles turned to ash.”

“Understood?”

James Scofield nodded in absolute reverence.