The Nobody Who Ruled Everything

Chapter 4: Between Kneeling and Divorce

A ripple of whispers spread across the ballroom. A middle-aged man at a nearby table leaned over to his companion: “Word is, he’s just a hotel staffer who somehow married into the Morgan family with some trick.”

The other replied: “Exactly. Looks like bringing misfortune into the house.”

A woman nearby added just loud enough for others to hear: “The Morgans have always been a name of distinction. Who would’ve thought the day would come when the granddaughter marries someone so beneath them? No wonder Madam Helen disapproves.”

The murmurs crashed down on Claire like waves. Her face turned pale. She tried to speak: “That’s not true, he didn’t, ”

Madam Helen raised an eyebrow, her voice slicing through like a blade: “Not true? Then what is it, Claire? The whole room saw what happened. Are you going to defend the man who just laid hands on my granddaughter?”

Elena lowered her head, speaking softly as though holding back tears: “I don’t blame her, Grandmother. She must’ve panicked…”

Ryan added with a flourish: “We don’t want to escalate things, but someone from outside acting like this at your party, that’s an insult. Young Master Rothman is holding back only out of respect for our family.”

Carlton curled his lip, voice calm yet soaked in condescension: “I don’t wish to press charges, but clearly, he spilled wine on me, then acted with arrogance. If he doesn’t apologize, people might think the Morgan family tolerates this kind of behavior.”

The chatter grew louder, each voice sharpening the blade against the Morgan name:

“He should just apologize, what’s the big deal?”

“That’s Young Master Rothman! Who dares to cross him?”

“That guy clearly doesn’t know his place…”

Claire trembled, about to speak, but Grandmother Helen turned to Adrian directly, her tone freezing: “If you have even a shred of decency, kneel and apologize to Young Master Rothman. You were in the wrong, and you touched a member of my family. Do you really think you can stand upright here after that?”

Claire took a half-step forward, tears brimming in her eyes: “Grandmother, he’s my husband. He’s your grandson-in-law, the father of my daughter. Please don’t make him kneel like this. I beg you…”

The room fell silent for a beat, then Madam Helen tilted her head, her eyes old yet sharp as steel: “Grandson-in-law? I have never recognized him as family. And that child…”, she paused, voice dropping but cold enough to chill the air ,

“…that child is a bastard. She does not bear the Morgan name, and she never will.”

Claire stood frozen, tears spilling down her cheeks. She turned to her parents, Mr. Edric and Mrs. Lianne, who had been standing quietly at the corner table, faces tense. But instead of comfort, they looked at her with despair.

Edric spoke softly, his voice hoarse and heavy: “Claire… tell your husband to kneel and apologize. Don’t make this worse. If Grandmother gets angry, our whole family is finished.”

Lianne, holding Claire and Adrian’s daughter, added with tears brimming in her eyes, voice firm: “She’s right. Because of you, we lost our place in this family. Don’t drag us further into shame.”

Claire shook her head, voice cracking: “Mother, he didn’t, ”

Elena interrupted with a cold laugh: “Didn’t what? Are you going to argue with the entire family? Don’t forget, your parents are out there scraping by because of the ‘hero’ you married.”

Ryan folded his arms, sneering: “He should be grateful. Getting a chance to apologize to Young Master Rothman is a blessing, not everyone’s so lucky.”

Several guests nearby added, their tones a mix of delight and nervous fear:

“Just kneel and apologize, crossing the Rothmans isn’t a small matter.”

“Right, just one apology and it’ll all be over.”

The atmosphere in the hall grew suffocating. Every stare, every whisper converged on a single point. Claire stood at the center, drenched in tears, her hands clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

She turned to Adrian, her voice breaking, hoarse: “Say something… please…”

Adrian didn’t respond. He stood there, eyes calm and detached, as if all the noise around him was nothing more than wind against glass.

Madam Helen planted her cane and stepped forward once more. Her voice rang out, each word like a command etched in stone: “I’m giving you one final chance. Kneel. Apologize. Or get out of here this instant.”

Scattered shouts followed:

“Kneel already!”

“Just apologize and be done with it!”

“Don’t humiliate the Morgan name anymore!”

Elena lowered her head, lips curling into a victorious smile. Her eyes flicked to Claire as if to say See? That’s the difference between us.

Ryan crossed his arms, his voice smug: “That’s right. Kneel. For someone like you to even still be standing in this hall, that’s already more than you deserve from the Morgans.”

Claire sobbed, her shoulders trembling as she looked at Adrian with pleading eyes. But he remained still, he didn’t move, didn’t bow, nor did he lift his head. He simply stood there, composed like an outsider, silent amidst the storm that was slowly swallowing the grandeur of the hall.

Under the dazzling chandeliers, every word spoken cut sharper, colder, like metal against bare skin. No one was laughing anymore, only whispers, murmurs, and stares tinged with curiosity, contempt, and pity.

Ryan folded his arms, his eyes drifting from Claire to Adrian, his voice drawn out, steady, like a man reading a sentence of judgment: “If you don’t kneel and apologize today, then don’t bother staying here. You, your wife, and that child. This house doesn’t shelter those who disgrace the Morgan name.”

Elena stood beside him, her red lips curling as she spoke in a voice sweet and chilling: “I don’t think we need to make a fuss. Just pack up and go quietly. Grandmother surely doesn’t want to see you two for another minute.”

Madam Helen leaned on her cane, her aged face hard but her eyes sharp as steel.

“That’s right. If he still knows his place, he will apologize. If not, leave. And you too, Claire, don’t think I’ll make exceptions just because you bear the Morgan name.”

Claire trembled, her hands clasped tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She dropped to her knees, voice choked: “Grandmother, please… I beg you, don’t cast us out. I… I’ll make him kneel. Please…”

Madam Helen tilted her head, her voice even, without a trace of mercy: “I’m not interested in pleas. I want action.”

Ryan stepped forward, his voice like the final nail in a coffin: “If you don’t want to be thrown out, then kneel. Now.”

Elena added, her tone casual but cruel: “Well, it’s only fitting. Someone like him was born to kneel anyway.”

Claire shook, turning to Adrian, tears flooding her face: “Please… kneel. I’m begging you… Our child can’t be thrown out onto the street, she’s still so little…”

Adrian remained silent. He looked at her, eyes so deep they seemed bottomless, neither resisting nor yielding. His composure only made the others more infuriated.

Ryan slammed his hand on the table, voice echoing: “Did you hear that? Or do you want to watch your wife and daughter walk out of here with nothing?!”

Claire broke into sobs, voice fragmented: “He’ll kneel! Please, Grandmother, don’t do this…”

Elena let out a laugh, sharp as a blade gliding across glass.

“No need to kneel anymore, Claire. I think there’s a much easier way. Just divorce him, and this will all be over. No apology needed.”

The hall buzzed with murmurs. Guests from nearby tables leaned in, whispering:

“Divorce is the best choice.”

“Young Master Rothman is willing to take her. Why stick with that useless man?”

“Madam Helen will be pleased, it’ll finally clean the stain from the family name.”

Claire looked up, her eyes glossy with tears, voice shaking: “Divorce…? No. I have a daughter. She’s only two. I can’t let her lose her father…”