Chapter2

In the top floor panoramic ballroom of the Astoria Hotel, hundreds of crystal chandeliers poured down dazzling champagne colored light. I pushed open the heavy walnut double doors, my leather shoes stepping onto the thick handmade carpet.

Wall Street financial tycoons, political power brokers, and the core members of the two great families stood in small groups, holding stemmed glasses and talking.

My gaze cut through the crowd, searching straight for that familiar figure. The unbearable scene from the villa bedroom last night kept replaying in my head, my fingernails already dug deep into my palm. Yet right before I pushed this door open, I was still struggling in that swamp of feelings, still imagining Isabella would explain, imagining there might be even the slightest chance to salvage it.

I walked toward the main table. The surrounding conversations suddenly lowered, and several ambiguous looks landed on me.

From the spiral staircase at the front of the hall came the crisp sound of high heels striking marble.

Isabella appeared. She wore a wine red custom evening gown and the diamond necklace I had just won at auction last week. But she did not come to me.

Her hand was firmly linked through a mans arm. That man wore a perfectly tailored tailcoat and was leaning down to whisper into her ear.

Victor. The close friend I had trusted with all my heart.

They moved through the crowd with intimate ease, like a true golden couple, and stepped directly onto the small stage in the center of the ballroom. Victor picked up the small silver spoon at the emcees stand and gently tapped the crystal wineglass in his hand.

The clear sound made the entire ballroom fall silent in an instant. Everyones eyes turned toward the stage.

Isabella took the microphone from Victor. Her gaze pierced the crowd and pinned itself precisely to my face. There was not the slightest trace of guilt or hesitation in her eyes, only lofty mockery.

Thank you all for being here tonight, Isabella said, her voice carried by the speakers into every corner. Taking this opportunity, the Roland family needs to formally announce a decision.

She paused for a second, the corners of her mouth lifting into a sneer.

My engagement to Arthur is hereby annulled, effective immediately.

A wave of suppressed gasps rippled through the crowd. Countless eyes swept over me like searchlights. Some people whispered to each other. Others openly wore sympathetic fake smiles.

I stood where I was and did not move.

This is not an impulsive decision, Isabella continued, her voice sharp and merciless. What you may not know is that my former fiance is in fact a low blooded illegitimate son.

The words hit like a bomb and detonated in the room.

Isabella went on. He is worthless and cannot produce a single respectable business of his own. All these years, he has merely wagged his tail and clung to our Roland family circle like a parasite. I have had enough of this cheap trash. He is not worthy of me, and even less worthy of our familys name.

Well said, Victor applauded loudly beside her. He took up another microphone, his eyes locked on me in provocation. A man who does not even have basic dignity and only knows how to grovel before women. What right does someone like that have to stand here and breathe the same air as us.

A harsh burst of laughter erupted from the crowd. The business elites who used to be polite to me now tore off their hypocritical masks, pointing at me and laughing with open ridicule.

So he is an illegitimate son no wonder he is always so timid

Isabella should have dumped this useless man long ago

Amid the storm of mockery, Mr Roland, Isabellas father, rose from beside the main table with his cane. He adjusted his bow tie, his expression rigid and severe.

Arthur, Mr Roland said in a tone of unquestionable command, you have taken enough benefits from us. Your presence tonight seriously damages the Roland familys reputation. Take off that designer suit you bought with my daughters money, then get out through the front door.

With those words, the entire room boiled over. Everyone waited, waiting for me to collapse like a condemned prisoner, to fall to my knees in tears and beg for mercy, or to flee in shame.

Isabella lifted her chin slightly, arms crossed, as if inspecting a piece of scrap about to be thrown into the trash.

Under hundreds of hostile stares, I stood in the center of the ballroom in silence.

The soft part of me called love stopped beating at that moment, turning into lifeless ash. In its place came an unprecedented calm, chilling to the bone.

I did not rage. I did not plead. I simply raised my hands and unfastened a single button of my suit jacket.

The laughter in the hall gradually died down. My unnaturally steady movements made some people feel an inexplicable unease.

I stripped off the black Savile Row custom suit jacket with crisp efficiency and tossed it onto the carpet at my feet. Then I slowly pulled off my tie and let it fall.

I lifted my head, my eyes drifting over Mr Roland, over Victor, and finally stopping on Isabellas face.

As you wish.

My voice was not loud, yet it cut clearly through the suddenly quiet air. No trembling. No fury. Only a contempt that saw through everything.

The smugness on Isabellas face froze for an instant. She clearly had not expected that after betrayal and public humiliation, I would not break down, but would look at her with such a superior gaze.

In that moment, I was no longer the illegitimate son who swallowed his pride for love. They thought stripping my outerwear would shatter me completely, not knowing they had just smashed the final shackle that had been locking down a financial beast.

I turned around and walked toward the double doors with measured steps, never looking back. The crowd unconsciously parted to either side, making a path for me.

The instant I pushed open the hotel doors, a gale wrapped in icy rain poured down in sheets.

I stood on the uncovered steps, letting the heavy drops hammer my thin dress shirt, water streaming down from my hair.

Behind me was the brilliantly lit ballroom, and those fools who believed they had won this game. They celebrated with the Roland familys fragile assets, oblivious to the storm that was coming.

I raised my head to the roiling clouds over the Manhattan night sky and wiped the rain from my face. Those secret channels I had built on Wall Street years ago, those top tier capital codes I had kept suppressed to hide my edge from Isabella, could finally return to the light.

They thought they had driven me outside.

But in truth, this game of devouring and destruction only truly began when I took the first move.