Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I was still seething from the Sterlings' visit when a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I called, expecting to see Roman return to finish our conversation.

The door opened, revealing not only Roman Volkov but also Beatrice and Seraphina Sterling—their faces twisted in smug satisfaction. My jaw clenched involuntarily.

"Look who I ran into in the hallway," Roman said with a neutral expression I couldn't quite read.

Seraphina's eyes gleamed with malice. "I was just telling Mr. Volkov about your disrespectful behavior, Liam."

"Mr. Volkov is a close friend of Gideon's," Beatrice added, her voice dripping with false concern. "Perhaps he can help you understand the consequences of your... attitude problem."

I felt my hands curl into fists at my sides. The familiar feeling of powerlessness threatened to creep back in—a ghost from my days as the Sterlings' punching bag. But the warm pulse of the jade pendant against my chest reminded me I wasn't that man anymore.

"Is that so?" I kept my voice level, my eyes fixed on Roman.

Seraphina stepped closer to Roman, touching his arm with nauseating familiarity. "Mr. Volkov knows exactly who you are, Liam. A nobody who got lucky. But luck runs out."

Roman's expression remained unreadable as he looked from Seraphina to me. The tension in the room grew thick enough to choke on.

"Actually," Roman finally spoke, gently removing Seraphina's hand from his arm, "I know exactly who Mr. Knight is."

He turned to face the Sterling women fully, his posture straightening. "And I came here specifically to discuss an important matter with him."

Confusion flashed across Beatrice's face. "I don't understand..."

Roman cleared his throat. "Allow me to clarify, Mrs. Sterling. I'm not here as Gideon Blackwood's representative or friend. I'm here because I need Mr. Knight's assistance with a matter of significant importance."

The shock on their faces would have been comical if the situation weren't so tense.

"His... assistance?" Seraphina repeated, her voice suddenly small.

Roman nodded. "Yes. You see, Mr. Knight possesses expertise that is quite rare and valuable. I'd consider myself fortunate if he agrees to help me."

I struggled to keep my expression neutral as satisfaction coursed through me. The Sterling women looked like they'd been slapped.

"There must be some mistake," Beatrice sputtered. "This man was our live-in son-in-law. He has no special skills or—"

"With all due respect, Mrs. Sterling," Roman interrupted firmly, "I believe you've severely misjudged Mr. Knight's capabilities."

He turned to me with a slight bow of his head—a gesture of respect that made Seraphina's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Mr. Knight, I apologize for the interruption. Perhaps we could discuss my proposal once you're free? I understand if you need privacy to finish your... current conversation."

The message was clear. Roman Volkov—one of the most feared men in Havenwood City—was deferring to me.

I nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mr. Volkov. I believe Mrs. Sterling and her daughter were just leaving."

Beatrice's face had gone pale. Seraphina looked like she might be sick. Without another word, they backed toward the door.

"We'll... speak another time, Liam," Beatrice managed weakly.

"I doubt that," I replied coldly.

As the door closed behind their retreating figures, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Roman's deep chuckle broke the silence.

"The look on their faces," he said, shaking his head. "Priceless."

I couldn't help but smile. "Thank you for that."

Roman waved away my thanks. "I merely stated facts. Though I must admit, watching those vultures scatter was... satisfying."

He moved to the window, watching as Beatrice and Seraphina hurried across the courtyard below, practically running in their haste to escape their humiliation.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "in our line of work, showing mercy can be dangerous."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Those women," Roman gestured toward the window. "They came here to exploit you, to manipulate you. Yet you let them leave with nothing more than wounded pride."

"What would you have me do? Harm them?"

Roman turned to face me, his expression serious. "Not harm. But recognize the threat they pose. People like the Sterlings—when humiliated—become desperate. Desperate people are unpredictable."

I considered his words. "They have no power over me anymore."

"Perhaps not directly," he conceded. "But wounded snakes still have venom. Just... watch your back, Knight. Not everyone deserves your mercy."

His warning stayed with me long after our meeting concluded. Was I being too soft? The old Liam might have worried about retaliation from the Sterlings. But something had fundamentally changed in me. Their opinions—their very existence—seemed increasingly irrelevant to my path forward.

Still, Roman's words held wisdom I couldn't dismiss entirely. I would need to be vigilant. The Sterlings might be pathetic, but even pathetic enemies could cause trouble.

---

Across town at the Ashworth Estate, Isabelle paced the elegant sitting room, her frustration evident in every step. William Vance watched her with barely concealed amusement.

"You're being ridiculous, Isabelle," he said, sipping his tea leisurely. "This fixation on some nobody from the Sterling family is beneath you."

"Liam Knight is not a nobody," she snapped, stopping her pacing to glare at him.

William rolled his eyes. "A former live-in son-in-law who was kicked to the curb? Please. The only reason he's floating around now is because of your family's charity."

"You know nothing about him."

"I know enough," William countered. "He's a leech who's managed to attach himself to a new host. First the Sterlings, now the Ashworths."

Isabelle's hands clenched at her sides. "Liam has never asked my family for anything. Everything he's achieved has been through his own merit and hard work."

"Achieved?" William laughed. "What exactly has he achieved? Living in a nicer house? Having better clothes? Those aren't achievements, Isabelle. They're handouts."

"How dare you—"

"I dare because someone needs to speak sense to you," William interrupted. "Your grandfather may have some old obligation to this man, but don't fool yourself into thinking he's anything special."

Isabelle took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure. William had always been arrogant, but his dismissal of Liam touched a nerve she couldn't ignore.

"You're wrong about him," she said finally, her voice cold and controlled. "Liam Knight is extraordinary in ways you can't begin to understand."

"Extraordinary?" William scoffed. "At what? Surviving off the goodwill of others? Being a professional charity case?"

"He saved my life," Isabelle said quietly. "When doctors across the country failed, when specialists from around the world gave up, Liam succeeded. That alone makes him more remarkable than anyone you've ever met."

William waved his hand dismissively. "A fluke. Or more likely, your illness simply ran its course naturally. Correlation isn't causation, Isabelle. I thought you were smarter than this."

Something dangerous flashed in Isabelle's eyes. "Fine. If you won't take my word for it, let's make a wager."

William raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "A wager?"

"Yes," Isabelle said firmly. "I bet that within one month, you'll not only acknowledge Liam's worth but you'll actively seek his help or approval."

William laughed heartily. "That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Why would I ever need anything from him?"

"Because," Isabelle leaned forward, absolute certainty in her voice, "Liam Knight is going to become the most influential person in this city. And everyone—including you—will recognize it."

"You can't seriously believe that."

"I don't just believe it. I know it," Isabelle's eyes blazed with conviction. "Not to mention a small Havenwood City, even in the whole Eldoria Province, no one can compare with him!"

William stared at her for a long moment before breaking into laughter. "You've lost your mind, Isabelle. But fine, I accept your ridiculous bet. When your precious nobody proves to be exactly what I said—just another opportunist riding your family's coattails—I'll expect you to finally put this infatuation behind you."

Isabelle's smile was cold and confident. "And when I win, William, I expect a public acknowledgment of how completely wrong you were."

"Deal." William stood, extending his hand. As Isabelle shook it, neither noticed the shadow that passed briefly across the doorway—a servant who had heard every word of their exchange.

News of the Ashworth heiress's passionate defense of Liam Knight—and her outrageous claim about his future—would soon spread through Havenwood City like wildfire. The clock was ticking on Isabelle's bold prediction.