Rise of The Abandoned Husband

The laughter thundered through the ballroom like a crashing wave, washing over me in waves of mockery. I stood there, appearing outwardly calm while inwardly seething. Julian's smug face glowed with triumph as he surveyed the crowd's reaction to my public humiliation.

"Look at him standing there, completely pathetic!" Julian shouted, pointing at me as he continued his performance on the platform. "The disgraced live-in son-in-law who can't even satisfy his own wife!"

More laughter erupted. A few feet away, Seraphina clung to Gideon's arm, her red lips curled in a satisfied smirk as she witnessed my humiliation. Her eyes met mine briefly, filled with nothing but contempt.

"I heard he spent three years sleeping on a mattress in the storage room," someone called out from the crowd.

Julian seized on this immediately. "Is that true, Knight? Did they make you sleep with the mops and brooms?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I closed my eyes, trying to center myself. The jade pendant beneath my shirt felt warm against my skin, almost as if responding to my emotions.

*Breathe. Just breathe.*

"Look at him! He's closing his eyes, pretending we don't exist!" Julian's voice grew louder. "That's what he did when he found Seraphina in bed with another man, isn't it? Just closed his eyes and pretended it wasn't happening!"

The crowd roared with laughter.

But I wasn't ignoring them. I was using this moment—using their mockery. Each insult, each jeer was becoming a tool to strengthen my resolve, to harden my spirit. The cultivation techniques I'd been studying spoke of using adversity as fuel for growth.

*Turn their poison into your strength.*

My breath steadied. The noise around me began to fade, becoming distant echoes as I focused inward.

"I heard the Sterling family servants wouldn't even pour him tea without permission from his mother-in-law," someone else called out.

"Pathetic!" Julian exclaimed. "And now he thinks he's worthy of representing Isabelle Ashworth? The most desirable woman in Veridia City?"

I remained still, eyes closed, focusing on my breathing. The cultivation technique was working—their mockery was becoming less painful with each passing second. I was finding a center of calm within the storm.

"Enough of this."

The voice cut through the noise. I opened my eyes to see Roman Volkov stepping forward, his face tense but determined.

"This has gone too far, Julian," Roman said firmly. "You've had your fun at Knight's expense. Let it go."

The crowd fell silent, watching this unexpected intervention. Julian's eyes narrowed dangerously as he stepped down from the platform and approached Roman.

"Well, well. Roman Volkov decides to play the hero," Julian said, circling Roman like a predator. "The immigrant businessman who thinks he belongs in our circles."

Roman stood his ground. "I said enough, Julian. This public shaming is beneath you."

Julian's face darkened. "Beneath me? Do you know who I am?" He stepped closer to Roman, towering over him. "Who exactly do you think you're addressing, Volkov?"

I watched silently, impressed by Roman's courage but worried about what would happen next. Julian Hawthorne wasn't known for his forgiveness.

"I know exactly who you are," Roman replied calmly. "And I still say this has gone too far."

The silence in the room was absolute now. Everyone held their breath, watching the confrontation unfold.

Julian's hand moved so quickly I barely saw it—a sharp crack echoed through the room as he slapped Roman across the face. Several women gasped.

"Know your place," Julian snarled, his voice low and threatening. "You're nothing but a foreigner who got lucky in business. You think that gives you the right to speak to me this way?"

Roman's cheek reddened from the slap, but he didn't back down immediately. "This isn't right," he said, though his voice wavered slightly.

Julian smiled cruelly. "If you want to earn back some face, then kneel. Kneel and kowtow to me, and perhaps I'll forgive this transgression."

"You can't be serious," Roman said, his voice faltering.

"I'm dead serious," Julian replied. "Kneel and kowtow, or I'll make sure every business connection you have in this city disappears by morning."

The threat hung in the air. I could see Roman calculating his options, the desperation in his eyes as he realized how much power Julian held over his future.

"Don't do it," I said suddenly, surprising even myself.

All eyes turned to me. Julian's expression transformed into one of pure hatred.

"Stay out of this, Knight," he spat. "This is between me and the immigrant."

I stepped forward. "His name is Roman Volkov."

Julian sneered. "I don't care what his name is. He'll either kneel or be destroyed." He turned back to Roman. "Well? What's it going to be? Your dignity or your livelihood?"

The crowd watched hungrily. Seraphina whispered something to Gideon, both of them smirking at the spectacle.

Roman looked at me briefly, then back at Julian. The weight of the decision visibly crushed his spirit. Slowly, reluctantly, he began to bend his knees.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I have employees who depend on me..."

Julian's smile widened as Roman started to kneel. "That's right. Know your place."

Something snapped inside me. In that moment, all my cultivation practice, all my attempts at inner calm shattered. Before Roman's knees could touch the floor, I moved forward and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Don't," I said firmly. "Don't give him what he wants."

Julian's face contorted with rage. "How dare you interfere! This doesn't concern you, Knight!"

I helped Roman straighten up, then turned to face Julian directly. "You've spent the evening mocking me, and I endured it. But I won't stand by while you force a good man to debase himself for your entertainment."

"You've lost your mind," Julian snarled. "Do you have any idea what I can do to you?"

I stepped closer to him, my voice steady. "I know exactly what you can do. And I don't care anymore."

Julian's eyes widened slightly at my defiance. "You're nothing, Knight. Nothing!"

"Maybe." I nodded. "But right now, I'm the nothing who's about to do this."

My hand moved in a blur. The crack of my palm against Julian's cheek echoed through the suddenly silent room. His head snapped to the side from the force of my slap, and he stumbled backward, stunned.

"This slap is on behalf of Roman Volkov," I declared loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Seraphina's glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the marble floor. Gideon's mouth hung open in shock. The entire room froze in disbelief as Julian Hawthorne—one of the most powerful men in the room—raised a trembling hand to his reddening cheek.

"You..." Julian could barely form words through his rage. "You just signed your death warrant, Knight."

I stood my ground, feeling strangely calm despite what I'd just done. The jade pendant against my chest felt warmer than ever, almost pulsing with energy.

"Maybe I did," I replied evenly. "But at least I'll die knowing I stood for something."

Julian's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he straightened his posture. "Guards!" he bellowed. "Seize him!"

Several burly men in black suits began moving through the crowd toward me.