GOD OF WAR REVENGE

Episode 2

“It’s me,” Lucas replied, his voice cold and firm. “Prepare for my return.”

Lucas’s gaze hardened. The time for suffering was over. The time for revenge had begun. And this time, nothing would stand in his way.The call went through, and Lucas's voice was calm but commanding.

"It's time," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Bring CrestView Group to the city. Make sure it's a high-profile move."

On the other end, his subordinate didn’t hesitate. "Understood, sir. We’ll make it happen immediately."

Lucas ended the call, his expression impassive. He knew what this would mean for the city—and for Claire. CrestView Group wasn’t just any company; it was a commercial empire Lucas had built during his years in the military. Its influence was immense, and its arrival in the city would send shockwaves through the business community. The news of CrestView Group’s sudden move spread like wildfire, and it wasn’t long before the entire city was buzzing with speculation.

Meanwhile, Claire was preparing for her grandfather’s birthday party. Despite the cold treatment from her family, she had worked tirelessly on a gift—a hand-knitted scarf that she had spent two months creating. Each stitch was a testament to her dedication and love, but as she arrived at the party, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

The atmosphere at the party was as cold as ever. Her family members greeted her with disdain, and the room was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter—none of which included her. She clutched the scarf tightly, hoping that perhaps this small token of her love might warm her grandfather’s heart.

But as she approached him, offering the scarf with a nervous smile, her hopes were swiftly dashed.

Her grandfather took the scarf, his expression unreadable. He turned it over in his hands for a moment before letting out a derisive snort. "What is this, Claire?" he asked, his tone dripping with contempt.

"It’s a scarf, Grandfather," Claire said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "I made it myself. I thought it would—"

"A scarf?" he interrupted, his voice rising. "You think this… this cheap piece of fabric is a suitable gift for me? Have you completely lost your mind?"

Claire felt her face flush with humiliation. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, her cousin, Miranda, stepped forward with a sneer on her lips.

"Oh, Claire," Miranda said, her voice full of mock sympathy. "How quaint. Did you really think Grandfather would appreciate something so… common?" She reached out, snatching the scarf from his hands. "Honestly, it looks like something a beggar would wear."

With a cruel laugh, Miranda tossed the scarf into the nearby fireplace. Claire watched in horror as the flames consumed the only gift she could afford to give, the product of two months of sleepless nights and painstaking effort.

"That’s enough," her grandfather said coldly, dismissing the entire matter as if it were beneath his notice. "Now, let’s get on with the party."

The guests began to take their seats, the seating arranged according to the value of the gifts they had brought. Claire stood awkwardly to the side, feeling utterly out of place. The expensive gifts—luxury watches, designer jewelry, rare wines—were paraded before her, each one earning its giver a prime spot at the table.

But when Claire’s turn came, she found herself being completely ignored. The empty chair next to her cousin was deliberately taken away by a servant, and no one even bothered to look at her. She was left standing on the sidelines, her heart sinking as she realized just how little she meant to her family.

"Look at her," one guest whispered loudly to another, not bothering to lower their voice. "She didn’t even bring a proper gift. No wonder she doesn’t have a seat."

"What did you expect?" another guest snickered. "She married that useless cripple. It’s no surprise she’s fallen so low."

Claire’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She felt a mixture of shame and anger boiling inside her, but there was nothing she could do. She was utterly powerless in this room full of people who only cared about wealth and status.

"Honestly, it’s pathetic," Miranda chimed in from her seat, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "She used to be the head of the family business, and now she can’t even afford a decent gift for Grandfather. Maybe if she divorced that worthless husband of hers, she’d have something to offer."

The room erupted in laughter, and Claire felt like she was going to be sick. She wanted to disappear, to run away and never look back. But just as she was about to turn and leave, a voice cut through the mocking laughter.

"Ten billion dollars."

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to the doorway where the voice had come from. Claire’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Lucas standing there, his gaze fixed firmly on her. There was no trace of the vacant stare that had haunted him for years—his eyes were sharp, clear, and full of purpose.

"If I contribute ten billion dollars," Lucas continued, his voice steady and calm, "will that be enough to earn my wife the respect she deserves?"

The room was silent for a moment, and then the crowd erupted into laughter once more, louder and more derisive than before.

"Is this some kind of joke?" someone scoffed. "Who is this guy, thinking he can just throw out numbers like that?"

"Must be a pipe dream," another guest sneered. "He’s been nothing but a burden on Claire, and now he’s pretending he has money? Pathetic."

The security guard, seeing Lucas as just another troublemaker, rushed at him aggressively, trying to grab him by the arm and force him out. "You need to leave, now!" the guard barked, his hand reaching out to seize Lucas.

But Lucas moved quickly, sidestepping the guard with ease. The guard stumbled forward, completely missing Lucas, who was now standing calmly just a few feet away.

The guests watched in shock, their mocking laughter dying down as they realized something had changed. The man they had seen as weak and broken had just effortlessly dodged a trained guard.

"How did he do that?" someone whispered, the disbelief clear in their voice.

Miranda, who had been so sure of Lucas’s helplessness, stared at him, her eyes wide. "What… what’s going on? How is he moving like that?"

Lucas turned to face them all, his gaze sharp and clear. "Did you really think I’d stay down forever?" he said coldly, his voice steady and full of purpose.

The room was silent, everyone too stunned to speak. It was clear now—Lucas had recovered, and he wasn’t the same man they had mocked moments ago.