Wrath of the Forsaken Son

Chapter 3

The red laser dots danced on Jian’s chest like hungry spirits. The air in the ballroom felt heavy, as if a storm were about to break inside the glass walls.

Elara stood before Jian, her chest heaving. Her hand, the one she had used to slap him, was tucked against her side, shaking violently. Jian looked into her eyes. He didn't see the hatred of a wife who had been abandoned. He saw the raw, jagged terror of a woman who had spent five years watching her world crumble and didn’t want to watch her husband die next.

"Leave, Jian," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please. If you walk out now, maybe Halloway will let you live. Don't do this for me. I’m already lost."

Jian reached out, and this time, he didn't let her pull away. He caught her hand. Her skin was ice-cold. "I didn't survive the Abyss to leave you behind, Elara. I’m not the man who went into that cage. I am the man who broke it."

"How touching," a sharp, feminine voice interrupted.

The crowd parted as a woman in a deep purple dress stepped forward. This was Madam Mercer, Jian’s foster mother. She walked with a fake grace, her face painted with a mask of motherly concern. Behind her followed Silas, who was clutching his injured arm and glaring at Jian with murderous intent.

"Lord Halloway, please," Madam Mercer said, raising a hand toward the balcony snipers. "Do not stain this beautiful engagement with blood just yet. This boy is our responsibility. He is our failure."

Halloway sneered but signaled the snipers to hold their fire. He wanted to see Jian humiliated before he saw him dead.

Madam Mercer turned to Jian, her eyes welling with fake tears. "Jian, oh Jian. We took you in when you were a dirty orphan. We gave you our name. We gave you food and a home. And how did you repay us? You stole from us!"

The guests began to whisper. "Stole? What did he steal?"

"Before he went to prison for his brother’s mistake—a mistake he volunteered for out of guilt!—he robbed our family vault," Madam Mercer lied, her voice rising so everyone could hear. "He took the Locket of the North Star. It is a Mercer family heirloom of great value. Jian, give it back. Give it back and we will beg Lord Halloway for mercy on your behalf."

Jian felt a cold smile touch his lips. The locket wasn't a Mercer heirloom. It was a silver piece set with a blue diamond, the only thing found on his neck when he was left at the orphanage. It was his only link to his real mother and father. The Mercers had been trying to steal it for twenty years.

"The locket stays with its rightful owner," Jian said. "Just like the Callaghan Group belongs to the Callaghans, not to a pack of wolves like you."

Madam Mercer’s face twitched. She dropped the act. "You are a convict! You have nothing! You are lucky we don't have you dragged back to the Abyss in chains!"

Jian turned his gaze away from her and looked at the wheelchair in the corner. Mr. Callaghan, Elara’s father, was gasping for air. His skin wasn't just pale; it had a strange, translucent grey tint. His fingernails were black at the tips.

"You speak of mercy," Jian said, his voice echoing with power. "But you show none to the man who was once your business partner."

Jian walked toward the wheelchair. Halloway’s guards tried to step in his way, but Jian’s aura was so cold, so heavy, that they involuntarily backed off. He reached Mr. Callaghan and placed two fingers on the old man’s wrist.

"What are you doing? Get away from him!" Elara cried, rushing to her father’s side.

"Elara, look at him," Jian said. "Really look at him. Do you think this is a natural sickness? Look at the way his pulse jumps. It’s like a trapped bird hitting the bars of a cage."

He turned back to face the Mercers and Lord Halloway. "The Callaghan Group is being sold because Mr. Callaghan is dying. And Mr. Callaghan is dying because someone has been feeding him a slow-acting poison for the last six months."

The room went silent. You could hear the clicking of the cooling chandeliers.

"You lie!" Silas shouted, his voice cracking. "He has cancer! The best doctors in the city have seen him!"

Jian’s eyes locked onto Silas. "The 'best doctors' you paid for, Silas? The ones who told Elara there was no hope so she would agree to this marriage?"

Jian pointed to a small, dark vein behind Mr. Callaghan’s ear. "This is the mark of the 'Seven-Day Wilt.' It is a poison from the deep mountains. It mimics the symptoms of terminal organ failure. In seven days, his heart will simply stop, and no autopsy will ever find the cause."

Madam Mercer threw her head back and laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. "A convict who spent five years in a hole is now a world-class doctor? How pathetic! Everyone knows Mr. Callaghan has Stage 4 lung cancer. It is documented. It is medical fact!"

She looked at the guests. "Do you hear him? He’s insane! He’s trying to scare a grieving daughter with fairy tales of poison just to feel important!"

The guests began to mock Jian.

"He’s lost his mind in prison."

"Poison? This isn't a movie, kid."

"Someone call the mental asylum!"

Lord Halloway stepped forward, his patience gone. "Enough of this circus. Snipers, take the shot. Kill the beggar and let's get back to the signatures."

"Wait!" Jian shouted.

He didn't look at the guns. He looked at Mr. Callaghan, who had suddenly begun to convulse. The old man’s mouth opened, and a thick, black liquid began to leak from the corners of his lips. He wasn't breathing anymore. His eyes rolled back into his head.

"He’s dying!" Elara screamed, falling to her knees. "Father! No!"

Halloway smirked. "It seems the cancer has finally won. Guard, move the body. Elara, sign the contract. We can do the funeral after the honeymoon."

Jian pushed past the guards. He reached into his rags and pulled out the roll of silver needles. With a flick of his wrist, the cloth unrolled, revealing thirty-six needles that shimmered with a strange, internal light.

"It’s not cancer," Jian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "And he’s not dying today. I am the successor of the Calamity Physician. I have the power to kill a thousand men, but I also have the power to snatch one life back from the grave."

He looked at Madam Mercer, whose eyes were wide with a sudden, sharp flick of fear.

"I told you, it’s the Seven-Day Wilt," Jian said, holding up a long, thin needle. "And I am the only person on this earth who knows the pulse point to reverse it."