Loser is the Billionaire’s Heir

ChapterThree

Marcus pushed through the circle of stunned onlookers, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor as he approached the crystal staircase. Diana Sterling stood like a queen surveying her domain, her ice-blue eyes sharp with controlled fury. The supernatural energy radiating from her was impressive—layers of protective enchantments, business acumen honed to a razor's edge, and the kind of authority that came from commanding respect in a male-dominated supernatural world.

"You're Diana?" Marcus asked, his voice cutting through the lingering silence.

Diana's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched with cold disdain. "I am Diana Sterling, CEO of Sterling Industries. And you are trespassing in my building."

"Good. I'm Marcus Steele, your fiancé. I'm here to honor the arranged contract between our families."

The words hit the crowd like a lightning bolt. Then the laughter erupted—cruel, mocking, absolutely merciless.

"Did he just double down on the crazy?" someone gasped.

"This homeless-looking nutjob thinks he's Diana Sterling's fiancé!"

"Someone call a psychiatric hospital! This guy's completely lost it!"

Diana's expression turned glacial. "I don't know what kind of delusion you're suffering from, but I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself further."

Marcus remained perfectly calm, his hands clasped behind his back. "I'm not delusional. We're engaged. When would you like to finalize the ceremony?"

The crowd exploded into fresh waves of laughter.

"Oh my god, he's serious!" a woman shrieked. "He actually thinks Diana Sterling would marry some random street person!"

"This is better than comedy theater!"

"Someone please tell me this is being recorded!"

Diana's jaw tightened with barely restrained anger. "Stop lying. I don't know you, I've never met you, and I am certainly not engaged to you."

She really doesn't know, Marcus thought, studying her face for any flicker of recognition. The Sterling family kept her in the dark about the arrangement.

Without a word, Marcus reached into his jacket and withdrew an ancient scroll bound with silver ribbon. The parchment was yellowed with age, covered in intricate supernatural symbols that seemed to shift and move in the ballroom's magical lighting.

He held it up for everyone to see. "The contract. Signed by both our grandfathers."

The laughter died instantly.

Diana stared at the document, her face paling slightly. The crowd pressed closer, their mockery replaced by sudden uncertainty.

"That's obviously fake!" someone called out, though their voice lacked conviction.

"Probably bought it from some supernatural antique shop!"

"Ancient contracts are easy to forge these days!"

Alexander Cross stepped forward, his tall frame radiating the confidence of someone accustomed to crushing opposition. The supernatural businessman's designer suit couldn't hide the predatory energy beneath—old money, older power, and the ruthless instincts that had built his empire.

"Enough of this charade," Alexander's voice boomed with authority. "Security, escort this fraud out of the building. Use whatever force necessary."

His personal guards moved forward, their hands reaching for weapons enhanced with binding spells.

"Wait." Diana's command stopped them cold.

She descended the remaining steps, her heels clicking against crystal, and extended her hand toward Marcus. "Let me see that contract."

Marcus handed over the ancient document without hesitation.

Diana's fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as she unrolled the parchment. Her eyes scanned the elegant script, the formal language of supernatural law, the binding symbols that pulsed with residual magic. But it was the signature at the bottom that made her breath catch.

Grandfather's handwriting. His magical seal. His blood signature.

"This can't be real," she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.

The crowd sensed her uncertainty and pounced like sharks scenting blood.

"Diana, you can't seriously be considering this garbage!" a man in an expensive tuxedo laughed. "Look at him! He's wearing clothes from a discount store!"

"The contract might be real, but there's no way this nobody is the intended groom!"

"He probably stole it from the real fiancé!"

I've heard whispers, Diana thought, memories surfacing of childhood conversations overheard behind closed doors. Grandmother mentioning an old arrangement. Father changing the subject whenever it came up.

Still, looking at Marcus—his plain clothes, his ordinary appearance, his complete lack of obvious supernatural power—she felt nothing but contempt rising in her chest.

"Even if this contract exists," Diana said coldly, "you cannot possibly be the man intended for me. Look at yourself."

"What exactly am I supposed to see?" Marcus asked mildly.

"A nobody! A drifter with no family, no power, no wealth, no status!" Diana's voice grew sharper with each word. "You think you can waltz into my world and claim me like some prize?"

The crowd roared their approval.

"Tell him, Diana!"

"Put this pretender in his place!"

"Show him what real power looks like!"

Heavy footsteps echoed from the main entrance as two figures approached with the bearing of absolute authority. Richard Sterling, Diana's father, stood six-foot-two with silver hair and the kind of presence that commanded boardrooms. Beside him, Catherine Sterling moved like liquid elegance, her designer gown and diamond jewelry speaking of old supernatural money.

Both looked absolutely mortified.

"Diana, what is this commotion?" Richard demanded, his voice carrying the weight of someone accustomed to instant obedience.

"Father, this... person claims to be my fiancé," Diana gestured dismissively at Marcus.

Catherine's perfectly made-up face twisted with disgust as she looked Marcus up and down. "You pathetic little worm. How dare you try to deceive my daughter with your ridiculous lies?"

"Mrs. Sterling—" Marcus began.

"Don't you dare address me directly!" Catherine's voice could have frozen flame. "You're not worthy to breathe the same air as my daughter, let alone speak to our family!"

"Look at you," Richard added with contempt. "Cheap clothes, no supernatural aura, probably don't even have a bank account worth mentioning. You think you can fool us with some fake contract?"

The crowd's laughter grew uglier, more vicious.

"He probably found that scroll in a dumpster!"

"What's next? Is he going to claim he's secret royalty?"

"Someone should call the police before he tries to steal something!"

"Absolutely pathetic excuse for a man!"

Marcus stood perfectly still, absorbing their hatred and mockery with supernatural calm. The ancient contract remained in Diana's trembling hands while her family's words washed over him like rain off stone.

They see only what they choose to see, he thought, feeling something dark stir in the depths of his memory. Just as my enemies did when they stripped away my divine memories. They saw weakness where there was only... patience.

Deep in his mind, fragments of his true past began to surface with increasing clarity. Massive armies kneeling before his throne. Supernatural beings from across dimensions speaking his name in whispered reverence. The weight of divine authority that had once been his to command.

The God of War, reduced to this. But not for much longer.

The mockery continued around him, but Marcus heard none of it. His focus had turned inward, toward the growing storm of memories that threatened to shatter his carefully maintained human facade.

"Well?" Catherine Sterling's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. "Are you going to continue this pathetic charade, or will you crawl back to whatever hole you came from?"