Zenith's New Master: The Lost Sterling heir Returns

CHAPTER 8

At the command, guards converged from every direction—eight, then ten, then twelve of them, batons drawn, hands on tasers, moving with coordinated aggression toward Ethan.

"Yes! Finally!" Lily's voice rang out, shrill with vindictive excitement. "Break his legs! Make sure he never walks properly again!"

Damien stepped forward, practically vibrating with anticipation. "You heard the lady! Be ruthless! Show this trash what happens when he forgets his place!"

Several of the gathered guests nodded their approval, some even voicing their support.

"About time someone dealt with these gate crashers," an older executive muttered.

"The audacity to attack security," another added. "He deserves everything coming to him."

Ethan stood perfectly still, watching the guards approach with weapons raised. His posture was relaxed, his breathing even. Not a trace of fear crossed his features.

The guards formed a semicircle, tightening the noose.

"WHAT IS GOING ON OUT HERE?"

The voice boomed across the entrance with enough authority to freeze everyone mid-motion.

A tall man in an immaculate suit strode through the main doors—the Lobby Master, a senior security official responsible for the entire ground floor operations during high-profile events. His face was already flushed with anger at the chaos disrupting his carefully organized ceremony.

"Explain. Now." His eyes found the guard with blood still dripping from his mouth. "You. Report."

The injured guard straightened as much as his damaged ribs would allow, pointing an accusatory finger at Ethan. "Sir, this man attacked me without provocation when I asked to see his invitation. He used a fake access card to attempt entry into the ceremony. When confronted, he became violent."

"That's exactly what happened," Lily chimed in immediately, stepping forward with practiced indignation. "We witnessed the entire thing. This man has been harassing us, making threats, and when security tried to remove him peacefully, he attacked them."

Damien nodded vigorously. "He's been causing trouble all morning. We tried to warn security that he was dangerous, but they weren't fast enough. Now look at this mess."

Other guests murmured their agreement, the narrative solidifying around Ethan like cement.

The Lobby Master's expression hardened. He turned to Ethan, his voice cold and final. "Your invitation. Show it to me now."

Ethan bent down smoothly and picked up the black card from where it had fallen during the confrontation. He held it out.

The Lobby Master snatched it, examining it under the morning light. His eyes narrowed as he turned it over, studying the unusual design, the unfamiliar embossing, the weight and texture.

"I've been managing Zenith Global's security protocols for eight years," he said slowly, his voice dripping with contempt. "I personally verify every exclusive access card issued for events of this magnitude." He held the card up for the crowd to see. "This design is not in our system. I have never seen this version before in my entire tenure."

"Because it's fake!" Damien shouted triumphantly. "We told you!"

"Exactly," the Lobby Master said, throwing the card down onto the marble steps with disgust. It clattered and slid several feet away. "This is a sophisticated counterfeit." He turned to his guards, his voice rising to a command. "Seize him. Restrain him completely and remove him from the premises. Use whatever force is necessary."

The guards surged forward as one, weapons raised, a wall of bodies and hostile intent.

Ethan's eyes flickered crimson for just a moment. The ring pulsed hot against his finger. His muscles coiled, power flooding through meridians reinforced by the Celestial Essence Stone just hours ago.

He was ready.

The guards were three steps away, weapons descending—

"STOP!"

The voice cracked across the entrance like a whip.

Every guard froze mid-stride. Every conversation died. The entire crowd turned as one.

A man in an expensive charcoal suit strode through the lobby doors with the bearing of someone accustomed to absolute authority. His silver hair was perfectly styled, his features sharp, his eyes taking in the entire scene with a single sweeping glance.

Marcus Webb. Regional Manager of Operations for Zenith Global Industries. The Lobby Master's direct superior, three levels of command above him in the organizational hierarchy.

The Lobby Master's face went pale. "Mr. Webb, sir, I can explain—"

He barely got the words out before Marcus's hand connected with his face in a slap that echoed like a gunshot off the glass walls.

The Lobby Master's head snapped to the side, his legs buckling.

"You incompetent fool," Marcus said, his voice vibrating with barely controlled fury. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Sir, this man attacked security and used a counterfeit—"

CRACK.

Another slap, harder than the first, sent the Lobby Master stumbling backward into the crowd.

"Shut. Your. Mouth." Marcus stepped past him with such contempt the man actually flinched. His eyes swept the ground until they found what he was looking for.

The black card, lying discarded on the marble steps.

Marcus bent down and picked it up with both hands, cradling it like something sacred. For a long moment, he simply stared at it, his face cycling through shock, horror, and something close to religious terror.

Then he turned to face the crowd.

"This card," he said, his voice carrying to every person present, "that you so casually dismissed as fake—" he held it high, "—is the Zenith Founder's Access Card. There are only three in existence. They are custom-designed, hand-delivered, and issued by no one except the owner of Zenith Global Industries himself."

The silence was absolute.

Damien's smug smile evaporated like morning mist.

Lily's face drained of all color.

The Lobby Master looked like he might vomit.

Marcus Webb turned his back on all of them and walked directly to Ethan. When he reached him, he bowed deeply—a full formal bow of profound respect.

"Sir, on behalf of Zenith Global Industries and myself personally, I offer the most abject apologies for this unconscionable treatment. Please—" his voice actually shook, "—please allow me the opportunity to make this right."

The crowd stood frozen, shock radiating outward in visible waves.