Chapter 10 Begging for Scraps

The mountain wind howled across the manicured driveway of the Dragon Emperor Estate.

Marcus Quinn stood tall, a triumphant smirk on his bruised face. He pointed his good arm at Luke, fully expecting the armed security team to drag the ex-convict into the dirt and beat him half to death.

The Head Security Guard, a massive veteran with a jagged scar across his eye, marched forward. His heavy tactical boots crunched on the gravel. Behind him, twelve elite guards tightened their grips on their rifles and followed in perfect, terrifying synchronization.

"Did you hear me, officer?!" Marcus yelled, his arrogance blinding him. "These people are slum trash! They're trespassing! My grandfather brought fifty million in cash to rent a room here for protection, and we don't want to look at this beggar! Break his legs!"

Patriarch Quinn puffed out his chest, leaning on his dragon-headed cane, ready to watch Sarah and Luke be humiliated.

The Head Guard stopped two feet in front of Marcus.

Marcus grinned. "Well? Do your j—"

SMACK!

The Head Guard's thick, gloved hand lashed out like lightning. He backhanded Marcus across his bruised face.

The force lifted Marcus off his feet. He spun through the air and crashed hard onto the gravel, screaming as he landed squarely on his freshly broken arm.

"ARGHHH!" Marcus wailed, rolling in the dirt, spitting blood and teeth. "My arm! You hit me! Do you know who I am?!"

"I know exactly who you are," the Head Guard growled. "You're loud, annoying trash blocking my gates."

Patriarch Quinn's jaw dropped. He stumbled back, clutching his briefcase of cash. "Are you insane?! We brought fifty million! We're the Quinn family! Why did you hit my grandson?!"

The Head Guard didn't even look at the old man.

Instead, the massive veteran turned, faced Luke, and snapped to perfect military attention.

CLACK.

The Head Guard's boots came together. He dropped into a flawless ninety-degree bow. Behind him, all twelve guards instantly followed, bowing deeply toward the muddy man in the faded trench coat.

"Welcome to the Dragon Emperor Estate, Mr. Luke!" the Head Guard roared. "Miss Frost informed us you're the new Estate Manager! Our lives are yours to command!"

The mountain fell dead silent.

Only the soft patter of freezing rain could be heard.

Marcus stopped crying. He lay in the dirt, his eyes bulging.

Patriarch Quinn felt his heart stop. His knees buckled, and he dropped his briefcase. The latches popped open, spilling stacks of useless cash onto the wet gravel.

Estate Manager?

The Frost Group gave this beggar the keys to the greatest mansion in the Empire?!

Sarah stood frozen by the taxi door, clutching Zoe. She was in shock, but a wave of relief washed over her. Luke's story was true. Helena Frost really had given him control of the estate to pay off the prison favor.

Luke didn't blink at the bowing guards. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gleaming gold key, tossing it casually to the Head Guard.

"Open the gates," Luke ordered calmly.

"At once, Sir!" the Head Guard shouted, catching the key like a sacred relic.

Patriarch Quinn started hyperventilating. The Quinns were being hunted by the Vance family's assassins. They'd brought their life savings here to beg the estate owner for sanctuary.

But the man who controlled the gates... was Luke.

"Sarah!" Patriarch Quinn stammered, his arrogance gone. He dropped his cane and practically crawled forward, his face twisted in a desperate smile. "Sarah, my beautiful granddaughter! What a coincidence! We're family! We share the same blood! Please, tell Mr. Luke to let us inside! The Vance family will kill us if we go back down the mountain!"

Sarah looked at the pathetic old man. Five years of starvation, humiliation, and abuse flashed before her eyes.

She remembered what he said in the hospital just hours ago.

"I don't have a family," Sarah said, her voice trembling but icy. "You officially erased me from the registry, remember? I'm just a beggar. And you don't share your home with beggars."

Patriarch Quinn turned ghostly pale. "Sarah, please! I was angry! I didn't mean it!"

"Grandfather, get up!" Marcus sobbed from the dirt. "Don't beg that bitch!"

Luke's eyes snapped to Marcus.

"Officer," Luke said, his voice deadly quiet.

"Yes, Sir!" the Head Guard responded instantly.

"These people are trespassing," Luke said, turning his back on the Quinns to help Sarah and Zoe out of the rain. "I don't want to see them on this mountain ever again. Throw them out. And if they resist... break his other arm."

"With pleasure, Sir!" the Head Guard grinned, cracking his knuckles. He gestured to his men. "Grab the trash! Roll them down the hill!"

"No! Wait! Luke, please!" Patriarch Quinn shrieked as two guards grabbed his collar and dragged him toward the steep, muddy road.

Marcus screamed as they hauled him up by his broken arm, kicking and crying while the guards physically threw them off the property. Their fifty million in cash blew away in the freezing wind.

The heavy, gilded iron gates swung open.

Luke gently placed his hand on the small of Sarah's back, guiding her inside.

As they walked past the gates, the gray, depressing world of the slums vanished. The Dragon Emperor Villa was paradise. Crystal-clear heated fountains flowed on either side of a white marble walkway. The mansion looked like a modern castle, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the entire city below.

"Wow..." Zoe whispered, her tired eyes lighting up with wonder. "Mommy... is this heaven?"

Sarah couldn't speak. Tears of joy streamed down her face. She pulled Luke into a tight embrace, burying her face in his chest. For the first time in five years, she felt safe.

---

Miles below, in the dark heart of Zenith City.

Arthur Vance paced furiously in his lavish study. It was 9:00 AM.

"Where is Viper?!" Arthur roared, smashing his fist on his mahogany desk. "He took my hundred million eight hours ago! He promised me that beggar's head by dawn! Why isn't my phone ringing?!"

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors burst open.

A man stumbled into the room, leaving a thick trail of blood on the expensive Persian rug.

It was Viper.

The feared underground boss looked like he'd been run over by a tank. His face was swollen beyond recognition, his ribs visibly caved in, his arms hanging limply.

"Viper!" Arthur shouted, rushing forward. "What happened?! Where is Luke Dark?! Where are your fifty men?!"

Viper collapsed onto his knees, coughing up blood. He looked up at the billionaire Patriarch, his eyes wide with terror Arthur had never seen before.

"Broken..." Viper sobbed, his massive frame shaking uncontrollably. "All of them... on the floor in three minutes... he didn't even use a gun..."

Arthur Vance froze, the blood draining from his face. "What? That's impossible. He's just a homeless ex-convict! One man cannot take down fifty armed killers!"

"He isn't a convict, Mr. Vance," Viper wheezed, clutching his shattered chest as he delivered the message. "He's a monster. And he said to tell you... to wash your neck. He's coming for you."