Chapter 392

Owen hit the floor with a sickening thud, blood streaming down his face. Stars burst before his eyes as pain exploded through his skull. For a long moment, he couldn’t even get up. He stared at Leander in disbelief—had he really just done that?
No one in their right mind would dare start a fight at a banquet hosted by the Riverstone family. Even Owen, the sole heir of the Harmon family, wouldn’t have had that kind of nerve.
Around the grand banquet hall, guests had witnessed everything. Brows furrowed, heads turned; all eyes now fixed on Leander.
These were Highcliffe’s most powerful elites—business magnates, politicians, heirs, and socialites. Each of them was silently assessing this stranger, wondering what kind of man would throw a punch here, of all places.
Even Ethan or Tycen-scions of Highcliffe’s top families—wouldn’t have dared pull something like this.
“What the hell is he doing?”
Arden’s face went pale, her expression shifting from shock to panic. She never could’ve imagined Leander would actually attack Owen.
After the initial disbelief came dread. The moment she saw the room’s attention shift toward them, her mind went completely blank.
This is bad.
She’d thought her friendly ties with Owen might help smooth things over if things went tense. But now? Leander had shattered that last hope with a single move.
Even if Owen decided not to retaliate, the hosts of tonight’s banquet-the Riverstone family-certainly wouldn’t let Leander walk away unscathed.
She turned toward Ginny, hoping to see some trace of worry on her face, but there was none. Ginny sat calmly, chin propped on one hand, her expression serene-as if everything unfolding before her was perfectly natural.
“Who do you think you are?” a voice thundered. “How dare you cause trouble here? Do you even know where you are?”
A middle-aged man in a black suit strode forward, his tone sharp with authority.
“Vance Harmon?” Arden whispered, her heart sinking.
The man was none other than Vance Harmon-Owen’s father, and the head of the Harmon family.
He was a titan of Highcliffe’s business world, worth billions, with influence that could shake the city’s economy. When someone like him so much as frowned, the entire commercial circle took notice.
Leander gave him a cold glance. “Say one more word, and I’ll throw you next.”
Vance’s face stiffened. In all his years commanding boardrooms and executives, no one-no kid—had ever spoken to him that way.
“Arrogant fool!” he barked. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? This is a Riverstone banquet. You think you can cause chaos here without consequences?
“You even dare to threaten me? You’ve clearly snuck in here without an invitation. Someone like you-reckless, ignorant has no place among civilized people. I’ll have security throw you—”
He never finished the sentence.
Leander moved again-swiftly, effortlessly.
A blur, a twist, and Vance was airborne. He crashed down beside his son with a brutal crack, both father and son sprawled across the marble floor, bloodied and dazed.
The hall went dead silent. Then came a collective gasp.
Even the most composed socialites—those used to keeping their emotions in check -couldn’t help but recoil in shock.
Leander hadn’t just taken down Owen; he’d thrown Vance Harmon like he was nothing.
Arden slumped back into her chair, and the color drained from her face. Words failed her entirely.
Leander pulled out a chair and sat down casually, as though tossing two of Highcliffe’s most influential men across the floor had been a trivial matter.
He swept his gaze over the stunned crowd and said evenly, “Anyone else have a problem?”
People standing near Leander instinctively backed away, afraid they might be next. For a moment, the usually untouchable elite of Highcliffe-those who ruled corporations and controlled fortunes were struck silent. Not a single one dared speak.
They kept their faces still, but behind those polished smiles lurked cold amusement. Let him strut while he can, they thought. The Riverstone family will crush him soon enough. No one walks away after making a scene at their banquet.
Just then, the doors of the hall opened. A man in an embroidered suit stepped in, flanked by a group of young heirs from the O’Brien family.
Tycen O’Brien.
The room stirred at once.
Owen, who had just begun to regain his senses, looked up and nearly wept with relief. “Tycen! Help me!” he cried, his voice hoarse.
Tycen turned toward the sound. When he saw Owen’s bloodied face and tattered clothes, his brows drew together.
The Harmons and O’Briens were connected by marriage-Tycen’s aunt had married Vance Harmon—so the two families shared both triumph and disgrace.
Owen, as Tycen’s younger cousin, often tagged along with him to clubs and parties. Seeing Owen in such a pitiful state-and Vance sprawled beside him, equally humiliated-ignited a spark of anger in Tycen’s chest.
“What happened?” Tycen asked coldly.
The onlookers exchanged knowing glances, their amusement deepening.
Leander’s done for now, they thought.
Tycen was notorious for protecting his own. Anyone who touched someone close to him never left unpunished. The rest of the guests had held their tongues out of caution—but Tycen, with a powerhouse family behind him, had no reason to fear anyone.
Owen jabbed a trembling finger toward Leander, who still sat calmly in his chair. “It was him! He hit me and my father! You have to make this right for me, Tycen. I want him dead!”
Arden felt herself go numb. The moment Tycen appeared, any lingering hope of saving Leander evaporated. She sank into her seat, despair washing over her.
She shot Ginny a desperate look, silently pleading for her to move away from Leander, to avoid being dragged down with him.
But Ginny didn’t move. She stayed where she was, her gaze fixed on Leander, eyes glimmering with an emotion no one else could read.
A faint smile curved her lips. “It’s been so long,” she murmured softly. “He really hasn’t changed.”
Tycen followed Owen’s trembling finger-and then froze.
His gaze met Leander’s across the room.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. Tycen’s face turned ashen, his
expression hollowing out as though he’d seen a ghost.
“Tycen, that’s him!” Owen pressed, stepping forward. “He’s the one-get him for me!”
Tycen didn’t move.
Owen, thinking his cousin had hesitated, reached out and gave him a little shove. “Tycen―”
The crack of the slap echoed across the hall.
Owen stumbled backward and fell to the floor, clutching his cheek, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Shut your d*mn mouth, you idiot!” Tycen barked.
The room fell utterly still.
No one could comprehend what they were seeing. Tycen O’Brien-one of Highcliffe’s most powerful heirs—had struck his own cousin instead of defending
him.
Tycen ignored the stares. He strode across the hall, stopped before Leander, and bowed deeply-his upper body bent a full ninety degrees.
“Sovereign,” he said solemnly. “I pay my respects.”
The entire room went still as stone.
Every gaze locked on Leander in stunned disbelief.
Tycen O’Brien—the direct heir of the O’Brien family, one of Highcliffe’s most
prestigious young elites-was bowing to him?
Arden sat frozen, her mind blank. For a long moment, she couldn’t even process what she had just seen.
Could it be that Leander was some hidden powerhouse?
While she was still trying to make sense of his identity, Leander casually flicked his fingers toward Tycen.
“Step aside,” he said calmly. “I have other matters to deal with.”
Tycen obeyed instantly, moving aside without hesitation as if receiving an order from a superior.
Then, from the entrance of the banquet hall, two figures appeared amid a wave of murmurs and camera flashes.
Both men wore military uniforms, their shoulders adorned with olive-branch insignias and a single star each.
Two major generals-Logan and his son, Dorian Riverstone.
The Riverstone family had arrived.
The hall erupted with whispers, the crowd shifting in awe and unease. Yet the two men ignored everyone around them. Their eyes were fixed solely on Leander.
“Jeff,” Dorian said coldly, his voice echoing through the hall. “You actually dared to show up.”
Leander’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Dorian’s expression hardened. He took a heavy step forward, his voice carrying the authority of a man used to command.
“Jeff, this entire banquet was arranged for you,” he declared. “You’ve used your strength to bully others, injuring my two sons. Tonight, before the eyes of Highcliffe’s
most powerful families, the Riverstone family will make this right.
“You will apologize to us and answer for your arrogance.”
At that moment, the Riverstone family made their move.