The Urban Sovereign Returns

"You’ve got a lot of nerve standing right here in the front row, Ethan!" Martha Thorne’s shrill voice sliced through the soft classical music filling the Grand Crystal Hotel’s ballroom. Under the shimmering crystal chandeliers, every eye turned toward a lone man in a plain grey suit that stood in stark contrast to the opulence of the other guests. Ethan Vale simply stood there in silence. His expression was as calm as the surface of a lake in the middle of a storm, even as the sharp glares and mockery of the extended Thorne family pierced him from every direction. In his hands, he held a small, simply carved wooden box. "Mother, today is your fifty-second birthday. I only wish to pay my respects," Ethan said in a low, polite tone. Martha snorted, snatching the box so roughly that her blood-red manicured nails nearly scratched Ethan’s hand. "Respects? From someone like you? Someone whose only job for the last three years has been freeloading off our family?" Suddenly, laughter erupted from the main table. The cousins of Clara, Ethan’s wife, made no effort to hide their ridicule. "It’s probably just some fake herbal medicine from a flea market," Brandon, Clara’s most vocal cousin, chimed in. "Or maybe a plastic lucky coin?" Clara Thorne, standing beside her mother, bit her lower lip. Her eyes radiated a deep sense of unease. She stepped forward, trying to touch her mother’s arm. "Mother, that’s enough. Ethan tried his best to find something special." "Special?" Martha opened the box with a contemptuous flick. As the lid swung back, a scent of earth and dried herbs wafted out. Inside lay nothing more than a roll of tea leaves tied with red thread and a dull black stone no larger than a marble. Martha stared in disbelief for a moment before her face flushed with exploding rage. She held the box high so that every guest could see it. "Look at this, everyone! The Thorne family’s son-in-law brought me a rock from the backyard and some stale tea as a birthday gift!" Roars of laughter echoed through the hall again. Ethan remained motionless. You have no idea that the stone is ancient black jade capable of neutralizing toxins in the body, and that tea consists of high-mountain buds harvested only once every ten years, he thought calmly. However, he didn't utter a single word. The promise he made to his late master—to live as an ordinary man—was a seal he wasn't yet willing to break. "How embarrassing," a baritone voice interrupted from the entrance. Jasper Wang, heir to Wang Corp, wearing a luxury watch worth billions, strode in with an arrogant air. His assistant carried a large, red velvet box. "Auntie Martha, don't let this trash ruin your mood," Jasper said, casting a disgusted look at Ethan. "This is Heavenly Jade from Yunnan. Its value is equivalent to the three most expensive sports cars in this city. Now, this is what you call a gift." Martha’s eyes instantly lit up. She accepted Jasper’s gift with hands that trembled from sheer joy. "Oh, Jasper! You truly are the dream son-in-law for any family. So different from this unemployed parasite!" "Ethan, apologize right now!" Brandon barked, shoving Ethan’s shoulder. "You're humiliating Clara! Look at her face!" Ethan glanced at his wife. Clara stood with her head bowed, her shoulders shaking slightly. Ethan’s heart gave a dull throb. It wasn't because of the insults hurled at him, but because of the shame Clara had to endure simply because of his existence. "I’m sorry, Clara," Ethan whispered very softly. "Don't apologize to her! Apologize to Mother!" Martha screamed. She then glanced at the empty wine glasses on the guest tables. A cunning smile appeared on her heavily made-up, wrinkled face. "I won't accept your rotten gift. Throw it in the trash!" Martha hurled the wooden box Ethan had given her onto the floor, right at his feet. The black stone inside rolled out, covered in the dust of the luxurious ballroom floor. The room fell silent for a moment, with only the background music playing softly. Ethan stared at the stone, then looked at Martha with eyes that, for some reason, made the woman suddenly feel a chill, if only for a second. "What? You’re going to glare at me? You don't like it?" Martha challenged, trying to mask the sudden unease she felt. "No, Mother," Ethan replied. His voice was still calm—too calm for someone whose dignity had just been trampled upon. "Good. Since you don't have the money to buy a decent gift, your trashy labor will pay for my embarrassment tonight," Martha said with a triumphant smile. She pointed toward the long rows of tables piled high with dirty plates and leftover glasses. "Our servers are overwhelmed in the kitchen. Ethan, take off that borrowed jacket and start clearing the tables. Right now! Make sure there isn't a single drop of water left on these tables in front of my guests." Clara gasped. "Mother! That’s too much! He’s my husband, not a hotel waiter!" "He’s just trash we picked up, Clara! If he wants to keep living in our house and eating off your dime, he needs to know his place!" Martha left no room for debate. Jasper Wang laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Very fitting. It seems holding a rag is indeed your greatest talent, isn't it, Son-in-law Vale?" The guests began to whisper, pointing their phones at Ethan. Without a single word of protest, the man slowly took off his grey jacket. He folded it neatly and placed it on the edge of an empty chair. Ethan rolled up his white sleeves to his elbows, revealing forearms that, while not overly muscular, possessed subtle lines that looked like hidden steel cables. He picked up a white cloth lying on a nearby tray. With efficient, almost mechanical movements, he began to wipe away a wine spill on the table closest to Martha. Seeing Ethan actually follow the order, Martha felt her ego immensely satisfied. She turned to Jasper. "Just leave him be. Let’s continue celebrating your success, Jasper." Amidst the ongoing roar of the party, Ethan remained hunched over, picking up dirty glasses one by one. However, no one noticed that his eyes continued to monitor every movement in the room with an unnatural sharpness. As Ethan knelt to retrieve the black jade Martha had discarded, an elderly guest in a very expensive formal suit walked by. The man caught a glimpse of Ethan stooping to pick up his "trash." The old man’s footsteps suddenly halted. His heart hammered against his ribs when he saw a faint, cross-shaped scar on the left wrist of the hand Ethan was using to hold the rag. The old man’s body began to shake violently. His face, previously flushed from alcohol, turned deathly pale. He immediately recoiled several steps as if he had just seen the Grim Reaper itself sweeping the floor. Ethan glanced at the old man from behind the bangs falling over his eyes. It was only a fleeting look, but it was enough to make the old man swallow hard. With hands that were still trembling, the old man reached into his suit pocket, pulled out his phone, and quickly typed a message with unsteady fingers. "He’s here. At the Thorne family party. Get everything ready, fast..." Ethan returned his focus to the dirty plates in front of him, ignoring the terrified stare coming from the shadows of the ballroom corner