Forced Divorce the Moment I Signed, A Hundred Thousand Troops Descend from the Sky

"Luke, take those bottles of Bordeaux wine and let them breathe. Be careful, don't break the glasses with your clumsy, commoner manners. You couldn't afford to pay for it even if you worked ten lifetimes!"

Eleanor's sharp and sarcastic voice echoed in the hall.

She didn't even look at me properly, but simply raised her fingers, painted with bright red nail polish, and casually assigned tasks as if she were ordering around a cheap hourly worker.

This is the Winston family's luxurious villa, less than a week away from my and Selena's third wedding anniversary.

Tonight's family dinner was, from the very beginning, a public execution tailor-made for me.

“Aunt Eleanor, aren’t you asking too much of a country bumpkin with no background?” The cousin standing to the side held a glass of champagne, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his tone. “Someone like him, who can’t even bring up his family name, is already lucky to be able to make a living in this house. I really don’t know what Selena was thinking. This kind of trash isn’t even worthy of shining Winston’s shoes.”

"Who can argue with that? It's the biggest stain on the Winston family's century-long history."

The surrounding relatives echoed their sentiments, their unrestrained laughter like a barrage of cold arrows.

I stood quietly at the end of the long table, without arguing or even looking up.

My gaze swept across the crowd and landed on Selena not far away.

She wore a custom-made black evening gown, looking like a noble and aloof black swan.

But at this moment, my wife simply stood indifferently to the side, toying with a wine glass in her hand, her eyes devoid of any emotion. She seemed oblivious to the intense humiliation I was enduring, as if I were merely a transparent ornament.

Cold and distant. That's been her only attitude towards me for the past three years.

I remained silent, lowered my eyes, and instinctively touched the back of my left hand with my right thumb.

There, there is a deep red, menacing old scar, like a lurking snake.

That's a mark left three years ago.

Three years ago in Paris, during that deadly assassination attempt against me, the entire building was reduced to a raging inferno.

To protect Selena in my arms, I bravely withstood the continuous explosions and sniper fire with my own flesh and blood. This scar is from when I blocked a deadly shrapnel bullet.

Selena survived the attack, but suffered a severe head injury that caused her to lose all her memory. She forgot the hellish ordeal, and she forgot me who pulled her out of the inferno.

And those hyenas lurking in the shadows will never let go of anyone connected to me.

To completely sever my enemies' pursuit and physically erase her name from the death list, I made a decision that shook the entire Western underworld—

I voluntarily signed that extremely strict "Silence Agreement".

Once, I was the absolute ruler who struck fear into the hearts of countless top conglomerates and mercenary legions, the "Godfather of the Night" who controlled a trillion-dollar empire and the power of life and death.

There's a saying in the underworld: The Godfather doesn't need a throne, because where he stands is the pinnacle of power.

But for her sake, I am willing to give up my supreme power and status and exile myself.

He lurked beside her as an invisible shield, posing as a humble commoner.

The ironclad rule of the contract is a shackle: as long as I do not use force or awaken the former power, Selena will be absolutely safe under the protection of "neutrality immunity".

So, I forcibly suppressed the beast within me that could tear these idiots apart at any moment.

Let them mock us.

This was a three-year period of self-imposed imprisonment, which I gladly endured.

"Oh my God! Look who's here!"

Eleanor suddenly burst into an exaggerated and cloying exclamation, interrupting the mockery in the hall.

With a broad smile, she strode quickly toward the villa gate.

The door opened, and a young man in a well-tailored suit with slicked-back hair walked in. He held his chin slightly high, exuding an air of superiority.

“Victor, darling, you’ve finally come!” Eleanor’s fawning expression was completely different from her sharp tongue towards me just moments before.

She practically ran to greet Victor and led him straight to Selena.

“Selena, this is Victor, the youngest rising star in Wall Street’s financial world, I told you about him.” Eleanor blinked frantically to hint.

Victor is arrogant in front of others, but when facing Selena, he instantly switches to a deeply affectionate demeanor.

He bowed slightly and smiled with utmost ingratiation, "Selena, you are even more charming tonight than the rumors suggest. It is a great honor to meet you."

Selena nodded slightly, still maintaining her aloof demeanor: "Hello, Mr. Victor."

These four words acted like a signal, and the surrounding relatives instantly swarmed around them like sharks smelling blood.

"Mr. Victor, I heard your fund doubled again last month? You're truly a once-in-a-century genius in the financial world!"

"Not only are you rich, but you also have connections that reach the heavens! If only our Winston family could have a son-in-law like you!"

"Some good-for-nothing scum are not even as good as sewer rats compared to Mr. Victor!"

While they were effusively praising Victor, they also took the opportunity to indirectly criticize and belittle me.

In their eyes, Victor was already the perfect "golden bachelor," while I was nothing more than a stumbling block on the Winston family's path to prosperity.

Viktor's vanity was greatly satisfied by the flattery he received from everyone present.

He deliberately adjusted his cuffs and waved his hand dismissively: "You flatter me. In fact, the assets on Wall Street are nothing. What truly controls this world is not those numbers on the surface."

The hall fell silent instantly, and everyone pricked up their ears.

Victor was very pleased with the effect of being the center of attention. He deliberately lowered his voice and boasted in an extremely arrogant tone, "To be honest, I just finished a phone call with 'that gentleman's' private secretary in the car. Tonight, there's a big operation."

"That...that gentleman?" My cousin swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly.

Victor looked around and declared with a smug expression, "The supreme ruler of the North American underworld—'The Godfather'."

The moment the name was uttered, the air in the hall seemed to freeze instantly.

All the relatives gasped, their eyes gleaming with undisguised awe and fervor.

Because it is a taboo name that exists only in legends, representing absolute violence and endless wealth.

Viktor reveled in the thrill of this fear and continued his rambling:

"And I am the Godfather's most trusted chief agent! I can freely access the core privileges of the Syndicate and all the Godfather's hidden resources. With just a word from me, the Godfather's army could even flatten Wall Street in an hour!"

“My God…” Eleanor trembled with excitement, looking at Victor as if he were a living God. “Victor, you have incredible abilities! Then our two families’ cooperation…”

"Don't worry, as long as Selena is willing, the Godfather's resources will be the Winston family's resources." Victor looked at Selena, his eyes gleaming with greed and a sense of certainty.

Amidst the clamor of enthusiastic praise from the crowd, I stood alone in a shadowy corner.

As this swindler eloquently stole my reputation, I narrowed my eyes slightly.

My personal secretary? My chief agent?

In my syndicate's core list, even multinational oligarchs worth billions are ranked at the very bottom, while this clown named Victor doesn't even qualify to be my peripheral servant.

The real Godfather was standing in a corner less than five steps away, watching him perform like a clumsy actor.

I couldn't help but find it a little funny.

It was the gaze of a majestic dragon looking down at an ant that was boasting about its ability to devour the heavens and the earth.

Stealing the name of the gods comes at a price.

I released my hand that had been rubbing the scar, my gaze fixed on what seemed like a talking corpse.