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1130 Words
The atmosphere in the grand hall instantly became taut as a drawn string. No one dared to speak; only the ragged breathing of Arnold’s men could be heard, while those who had been loudly gossiping now fell completely silent.
Arnold tried to maintain his composure, forcing down the anger stuck in his throat. He took the official document, scanned each line, then looked up, his expression an intricate mix of fury, confusion, and disbelief. He stared at the city representative, his voice no longer arrogant but weighted with seriousness: “Is this document authentic?”
The representative nodded gently. “Yes, it bears the direct signature from above. If you have doubts, you’re free to verify at any time.”
The surrounding guests began to whisper, some bewildered, others fearful.
“Damn, it’s real? This is huge…”
“Never seen anything like this before, who could have guessed a banquet would end up like this…”
A few guests, afraid of being implicated, began edging toward the exit, their eyes full of caution as they looked at Arnold and Victor. Many secretly felt lucky they’d only been silent spectators and hadn’t joined in mocking like some others.
Kiera clutched her purse tightly, whispering to Laura: “What the hell is going on? Why isn’t that bastard just acting after all?”
Laura frowned, staring at the document in astonishment, but in the end couldn’t say a word.
Victor clenched both fists, his face purple with anger. He couldn’t believe how disastrously everything had reversed. He backed closer to his father, his voice low, struggling to suppress his panic: “Father, we can’t just let this happen. How can they justify requisitioning this place?”
Arnold didn’t answer, simply staring at the document, inwardly seething but utterly helpless. All his authority, wealth, and underground power now meant nothing compared to a sheet of paper with the national seal.
Vera’s expression stayed calm as ever. She tilted her head slightly toward Victor, her tone openly provocative: “So? What else do you want to do? The rank on my shoulder is Lieutenant Colonel. Someone raised as well as you should be able to recognize that, shouldn’t you?”
The whole hall murmured again, people both awed and astonished: “Lieutenant Colonel? That young and already a Lieutenant Colonel, amazing…”
Victor gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, barely restraining himself from lashing out, but as he took a step, Arnold caught his arm, holding him back. Arnold didn’t take his eyes off Vera, his voice rough and strained: “Enough. Not now.”
He forced himself to stay put, even though the humiliation was driving him mad.
Vera glanced at the Grants one last time, her gaze cold, then strode unhurriedly over to Raymond. Stopping at a measured distance, she bowed her head respectfully and said: “Sir…”
Raymond only shook his head slightly, making a discreet gesture, eyes fixed straight ahead but with a clear meaning, do not let Vera reveal anything about his true identity.
Vera instantly understood, quickly adjusting her words: “Ah, what I meant was, since you are a former soldier with outstanding service, under government regulations, when a site is requisitioned to receive senior officials, veterans and their immediate families are to be given priority access and special protection throughout their stay.”
The guests immediately buzzed with a mix of surprise and confusion: “Really? Veterans get that kind of privilege now?”
“Maybe it’s a new law. Huh, no one’s going to look down on former soldiers from now on!”
Some even looked at Raymond with entirely different eyes, admiration mixed with envy that he would get to stay for a banquet with high-level officials.
Arnold stood frozen, his face turning purple, lips pressed so tightly they were white. In his eyes burned humiliation, rage, and bitter frustration, a man who had always wielded absolute power, now forced to watch as the “most despised.” “most humiliated” rival was publicly invited to stay, while he himself was “thrown out” as an uninvited guest.
Victor fared no better, clenching his fists so tightly his nails dug into his skin, eyes burning with hatred at Raymond and Vera, but unable to utter a word.
Sophia, standing beside Raymond, trembled with the shock of events, swings from hope to despair, from bewilderment to fear, and now a deep sense of relief.
Vera, meanwhile, maintained a stern, official demeanor, revealing nothing except the image of a dutiful officer strictly carrying out her assignment, making it clear that Raymond received no special personal favor in front of everyone.
But that only intensified the suffocating tension. No one among the guests moved yet, partly because they couldn’t believe their eyes, partly because they wanted to see the powerful Grant family, rulers of Draventon, get “erased” from an event for the first time in broad daylight.
An older woman covered her mouth and sighed: “Unbelievable… Even the Grants aren’t allowed to stay. The times are changing!”
A middle-aged man clicked his tongue and spoke loud enough for the whole table: “They say wherever Arnold Grant goes, that place is his turf. Today he’s being kicked out like a stray. He’ll never swallow this shame.”
A young man whispered, glancing between Victor and Vera: “The poor get priority, the filthy rich get tossed out, hell, this’ll be the biggest joke in the city, bigger than when Sophia married that useless Raymond back then.”
Though these words were murmured, Arnold and Victor could still catch snatches. Each word was a knife in the pride of these two men who had always held absolute power. Arnold’s face darkened, veins bulging on his clenched hands, his eyes glinting with a burning mixture of hatred and humiliation, as if he wanted to scorch everything.
Victor stood paralyzed, jaw clenched so tightly blood nearly seeped from his nails. The wave of gossip only swelled, as if deliberately forcing them to taste what it meant to be “publicly disgraced.”
An old man scowled, clicking his tongue softly: “After this, I wonder if the Grants will ever dare strut around Draventon again…”
A matron tugged her friend’s arm and whispered: “Who could’ve imagined, even the ultra-rich must make way for that useless Raymond; how will they ever keep their reputation now?”
With every word, Victor burned with shame, wanting to scream but unable to. Arnold, silent and terrifying, let his razor-sharp gaze sweep across every face, as if etching them all, every insult, into memory for payback. That bastard Raymond was the source of all this, and this disgrace… one day, he’d pay it back tenfold!
- Writer
