The Nobody Who Ruled Everything

Chapter 3: A Crime Fabricated

From the head table, Helen Morgan had caught bits of the conversation. Her gaze drifted over, icy, wordless. But that silence only made Claire feel more alone under the glittering lights of the banquet.

Carlton swirled his wine glass, voice flat and deliberate: “Wipe it. I don’t sit with stains on my clothes.”

Adrian still didn’t move. He slowly straightened up, the napkin clenched tightly in his hand, the tendons in his fingers standing out beneath pale skin. His gaze locked on Carlton, so deep and still it made the other man flinch before quickly masking it with a forced laugh.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, his voice thick with mockery: “What’s wrong? Scared now? It’s simple, just bow a little. Isn’t that what he’s used to?”

Elena gave a light laugh: “If he won’t do it, let his wife do it. They’re a pair, after all. What’s there to be ashamed of?”

The table erupted again in cruel laughter, glasses clinking sharply as if trying to shatter the last fragments of Claire’s dignity.

Claire trembled, her eyes red. Her voice choked but determined: “That’s enough! He didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll pay for it, alright?”

Ryan narrowed his gaze, voice low and cutting: “Pay with what, your pride? Does that still have any value left?”

Elena placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder, tilting her head as she whispered in a voice so sweet it sent shivers down the spine: “Don’t be so worked up. Aren’t you happy? This is a moment to remember. Just a little lesson, to remind you where your place is.”

Claire lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly, while the others at the table continued to circle their prey, delivering comments that seemed casual but cut sharper than knives.

Elena leaned toward Ryan, her tone sugary sweet: “Honestly, I almost feel sorry for Claire. Maybe she’s already regretting things. If she divorces him, maybe Young Master Rothman would take her back, Grandmother might forgive her, and none of this would have to be so disgraceful.”

Ryan laughed, swirling his wine glass: “As if she’d dare. But really, if she’s willing to bow her head, to let go, maybe there’s still a chance for redemption. Grandmother respects obedience. No one could stand someone who brought a stray in off the streets and called him her husband.”

Young Master Rothman raised an eyebrow, his lazy tone adding fuel to the humiliation: “If Miss Claire truly divorces him, I’m not saying I’d marry her, but I might reconsider. She still has a face hard to forget, after all.”

Elena giggled, tapping her glass with her fingernail, the clinking sound like a countdown to Claire’s breaking point: “Hear that, Claire? A chance to turn your life around. Divorce that useless man and return to your real world. Grandmother would be thrilled, might even call you her precious granddaughter again.”

Ryan nodded, his voice slow and deliberate: “She won’t hate you forever. You just have to show you’ve changed. A bad marriage is nothing, but letting the world see a Morgan heir living with a commoner? That’s the real disgrace.”

Claire clenched her fists, her eyes reddening, voice hoarse: “Enough.”

Elena smiled, leaning in close, her breath thick with wine: “What’s wrong? Touched? Or are you starting to reconsider? You just need to sign one paper, and it’ll all be over. You get to live in comfort again, and your parents can come home, no more being exiled to that shabby suburb Grandmother banished them to.”

Ryan chuckled, nodding with delight: “That’s right. Grandmother never forgave them because of you. Your uncle and aunt could’ve lived peacefully, but you married that guy, and now they live like servants. If you still have a shred of filial piety, think it over.”

Claire let out a quiet sob, her breath caught in her chest. Each word stabbed straight into what little pride she had left. And she knew, they were right. Ever since Grandfather died, her parents had been cut off by Helen Morgan, expelled from the Morgan estate, forced to survive in the outskirts on dwindling savings. At today’s party, they were only invited out of formality, seated in a corner no one approached.

Elena rested her chin on her hand, eyes like knives: “Grandmother even said, if you divorce, she’ll let your father return to the company. Just one signature, Claire. One stroke, and you restore the family’s honor.”

Claire looked up, eyes brimming with tears yet still defiant: “You don’t know anything. I can’t do that.”

Ryan burst out laughing, the sound cracking like glass: “Can’t? Or afraid to lose your shelter? You think he can provide for you?”

Elena followed, her voice venomous: “Or maybe you still feel something for him? That’s pathetic. What does he have besides empty hands? Grandmother would rather accept an illiterate son-in-law than let a hotel server into this family. You’re dragging us all down, Claire.”

Young Master Rothman swirled his wine, his eyes narrowing: “If she’s willing to leave him, I’ll really think it over. A woman who knows when she’s wrong is better than one who lives in delusion. I can make sure she never has to suffer these looks of contempt again. What do you say, Claire?”

Claire turned her face away, tears falling into the glass of water before her. Her voice was small, trembling: “How far do you all want to push me?”

Elena smiled faintly, speaking as though confiding: “We just want you to wake up, to stop embarrassing the family. Grandmother’s old. She can’t take another shock. Do you really think she wants to see her granddaughter sitting next to a floor-scrubber on her birthday?”

Across the hall, Madam Helen was still conversing with guests, but her cold eyes occasionally flicked toward their table, each glance heavy as a storm cloud, making Claire feel like she was standing trial.

Ryan leaned back, his voice suddenly low and cold: “I mean it, Claire. If you have any dignity left, end this now. No one wants to see this any longer. Divorce him. Sign the papers. Come back to being a Morgan. Doesn’t it shame you to be laughed at like this?”

Claire trembled, her voice breaking: “He’s done nothing wrong. If you want to humiliate someone, then aim it at me.”

Elena smiled, stepping closer, placing a hand on Claire’s shoulder, her voice sugary and chilling: “Fine then. Listen. You really are pitiful. The girl once called the financial rose of the city, now sitting beside a man who can’t even lift his head. What do people see? A love worth admiring, or just something to pity?”

Claire burst into tears, unable to wipe them away fast enough. Her eyes turned to Adrian in desperation. He was still standing there, silent, expression unchanged, his gaze calm and deep as still water, so still she couldn’t tell whether he was enduring it all… or simply didn’t care.

She choked out, through her tears: “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Adrian remained silent.

She inhaled sharply, voice cracking: “Why are you just standing there? Didn’t you hear what they said? Don’t you see how they’re trampling on me like this?!”

Still no answer. His gaze held no hatred, no sympathy, just a quiet, chilling emptiness that made her chest tighten in rage.

Claire cried harder, about to rise and leave, but Elena grabbed her hand and yanked her back, her tone smooth and patronizing, like scolding a disobedient child: “Sit down. Don’t make a scene. This is Grandmother’s party, don’t draw attention. If you’re ashamed, then you shouldn’t have come.”

Claire struggled to break free, tears smudging her makeup.

“Let go!”

Elena sneered: “If you had any pride left, you wouldn’t be like this.”

Suddenly, Adrian reached out and gripped Elena’s wrist. The hold wasn’t strong, but it was firm enough to make her flinch, her face paling in pain. His voice came, steady and cold as ice: “Let go of her.”

Elena yelped softly, pulling her hand back, eyes flashing with fury. She stepped back, feigning a stumble, then suddenly let herself fall onto the banquet table. A wine glass tipped over, crimson spilling across the white tablecloth, the shatter loud and shrill. Elena collapsed to the floor, groaning, clutching her shoulder like she’d been thrown.

The noise sent a ripple through the entire ballroom. Ryan shot up, knocking his chair over, and pointed straight at Adrian, yelling: “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You dare lay a hand on a woman?!”

The sound echoed through the hall, drawing the attention of the guests. Madam Helen stood up as well, her expression as cold as marble. Several family members began to gather, Uncle Marcus Morgan, the proud father of Ryan and Elena; Aunt Josephine Morgan, the youngest sibling who had always been spoiled by their mother; Uncle Francis Morgan and his two children, Daniel and Sophie; and the youngest grandson, Noah, just eighteen, also rushed over to watch.

The entire Morgan clan closed in, eyes filled with contempt aimed at Adrian and Claire.

Ryan shouted loudly, ensuring everyone in the ballroom could hear: “Everyone see this? This is the man my sister married! A hotel worker who dares to lay hands on a woman in Grandmother’s birthday party!”

Elena whimpered weakly: “I’m fine... probably just pulled a little too hard…”

Marcus stepped forward, his voice deep and heavy: “That’s enough. This is Mother’s celebration, not a place for chaos. Who gave you the right to lay a hand on a member of the Morgan family?”

Claire stood frozen, tears streaming down her face, lips trembling to speak, but no one gave her the chance. The stares, the murmurs, all cut through the remnants of her pride like knives.

And in the middle of it all, Adrian stood silently, eyes deep and calm, strangely composed. No anger, no panic, just a silence so dense it unsettled even those who thought they had won.

Above them on the steps, Madam Helen Morgan walked slowly into the crowd, her silver cane tapping against the marble floor with a crisp, cold tap-tap, each step commanding attention. The noise in the hall gradually died down. The crowd parted, making way for the woman who had led the Morgan family for a lifetime.

She stopped in front of the banquet table where Elena was still clutching her shoulder in feigned pain, Ryan stood protectively in front of her, and Adrian remained quietly behind Claire. Her gaze was icy, sweeping over each face before settling on Adrian.

Her voice rasped yet rang with the power to steal the breath from every corner of the room: “What happened here?”

Ryan immediately stepped forward, bowing slightly, his voice full of false gallantry: “Grandmother, no one else is at fault but this man. He spilled wine on Young Master Rothman and then showed disrespect. When reminded, Claire defended him and caused a stir. Elena just wanted to calm her down, but he went mad and grabbed Elena, she fell like that because of him!”

Elena chimed in, voice trembling as if near tears: “I’m alright, Grandmother… Maybe he just didn’t realize his own strength… But I didn’t expect Sister Claire’s husband to be so aggressive.”