God Complex

Chapter Four.

No, no, no. He refused to believe it. It wasn’t her fault. Yes, it wasn’t her fault. Rachel was going through with this because she believed he had passed. If he could prove otherwise, she would jump back into his arms, and everything would be back to normal. Blinking back tears, the newfound motivation bolstered Jason as he sprinted away from the cheering crowd, bumping into many, determined to get his beloved wife back.

“Rachel!” Jason screamed. The distance between them was still too great for her to hear. He closed the gap and tried again, this time with all the breath in his lungs. “Rachel, it’s me, Jason! Don’t go through with the engagement! I’m not dead.” It worked. She heard him, but so did everyone else. The volume of his words had drawn the attention of all the guests, bringing the once festive atmosphere to an awkward silence.

Rachel pivoted, her eyes bulging in terror at the sight of Jason. She wasn't the only one taken aback—Dominic Stone was equally stunned but managed to conceal his shock. His eyes scanned the pauper amidst the crowd, scrutinizing him for any signs of an assault. Finding none, his fingers curled into a fist. It seemed his drunken half-brother had forgotten to carry out the simple assignment he had been given—a mistake Dominic wouldn’t tolerate.

With grave discretion, Dominic had to personally handle the pauper's unexpected arrival before he did something that might disrupt his consolidation of power over the five families. Wearing a thin, lipless smile, he glanced back at his soon-to-be mother-in-law, whose face had drained of color. Her expression was justified; he had guaranteed the pauper's assassination, but here the man stood. Madam Regina, in due time, caught her accomplice's eye and understood her assignment.

Jason approached his wife, glaring at the towering man she was clinging to. It wasn't an exaggeration to say he looked imposing, with an athletic physique. But any positive feature was offset by a negative; his skin tone was grave-pale, and his face was devoid of eyebrows. Although he had jet-black hair tied into a bun and a groomed beard, these features contrasted sharply with his lipless smile and penetrating crimson eyes, which burned with the unpredictable intensity of an inferno. Wait! Wasn't that a badge? Pinned to his dark, classical overcoat was a golden skull badge, similar to those worn by the mobsters outside but matching the attire of the mysterious guests.

He struck up a conversation but was silenced by his mother-in-law, who descended the stairs, flanking herself with armed mobsters. “Didn't I warn you, a mere employee, to stay away from this mansion's vicinity?” Madam Regina snarled. “Should I even be surprised that you've returned? Perhaps you've lost the job we so graciously provided for you and have come seeking further assistance. Like a vermin that keeps coming back and doesn't die. But how dare you cause a commotion at my home? Has starvation driven you to madness, and you can no longer distinguish between your superiors and your fellow filthy lower-classmen?”

Jason, accustomed to his mother-in-law's insults, simply ignored her. The matriarch panicked at this, realizing she needed to get rid of him before their affluent guests discovered that the man was actually tied to the family. Since her words had no effect and brute force might escalate the problem, the only option was to use Rachel. Madam Regina's eyes flickered at Dominic then her daughter's who caught the malicious instructions they held. Would she falter, was the question in mind.

Jason slapped his arm, indicating he was very much alive. “See, I'm alive, Rachel,” he said, then frowned. “I don't know what led you all to believe I was dead, but I'm glad I arrived just in time to prove otherwise.” Rachel wasn't reacting the way he anticipated. Her eyes darted back and forth towards the entrance. Jason wondered why she was still tense and grabbed her. “Listen. It's me. I'm alive.”

Rachel bit her lips, and slapped Jason, her palm cracking his cheek and igniting a fresh wave of laughter from the crowd. Jason held his face, stunned by the unexpected attack. She leaned against Mister Stone, her arm wrapped around his, and her head resting on his shoulder romantically. Her face mirrored the disdainful expression of her mother while shooting Jason a dissecting, disapproving scrutiny. Jason's left eye instinctively dropped tears. Pain wasn't new to him, but this hurt more than any physical abuse or humiliation he had suffered.

Rachel sneered. “It's you again, the lunatic servant on my family's payroll.” Jason's heart shattered. “It seems destitution has muddled your brain, leading to your loss of discernment, because how dare you call yourself my husband? I, Rachel Rothschild, the heiress of the Rothschilds, would rather die than associate myself with commoners, let alone be married to one of them. If stirring controversy at my engagement party was a desperate attempt to gain financial support, then, commoner, you failed. So, you'd better get out of my sight before you lose your life.”

Jason was devastated. It wasn't Rachel's condescending tone, similar to those of snobbish elites, that hurt. It was her pretense that they were strangers when, in fact, they shared a history. Something must be making her act this way because he refused to believe that the Rachel he married would deny him, blatantly excusing him as an impersonator. He made a desperate attempt to hold her, but the digital increment, sharp and loud, resonated in his head, making him shout and retract in pain. Madam Regina's and the guests' faces were masks of disgust. The man was truly a lunatic after all.

“This isn’t you, Rachel,” Jason managed to say. “I know because you are the nicest upperclassman I’ve ever met, and you would never insult anyone’s social standing. Can you remember our wedding vows? We promised to always love each other no matter the circumstances. For heaven’s sake, our wedding anniversary is tomorrow, and you said we would celebrate it with my sister. Why this?”

Jason’s words had no effect on Rachel; her face remained contemptuous. He still believed she was putting on a facade and pointed at Madam Regina and Mister Stone. “You two!” he shouted, convinced they're the cause. “What did you say to Rachel, huh? Did you blackmail my—”

A leg, as solid as a cement pillar, slammed into his torso, driving the air and blood from his lungs and sending him crashing to the floor. Dominic had to silence him before he said something that could ruin his reputation among the five families watching.

Jason choked and coughed on the ground. As if the brutality weren’t enough, the floor beneath him quaked from the footsteps of mobsters that surrounded him. He tried to beg, but the men were unforgiving. At Madam Regina’s orders, a relentless barrage of kicks struck every part of his body, inflicting more wounds and triggering a storm of sharp digital voices in his head, like security software gone haywire. Jason thought he had brain damage.

“That’ll teach you your place, dog,” he heard Rachel’s voice cutting through the beatings. His eyes grew downcast as a realization dawned on him. Rachel wasn’t pretending after all; she was just like her fellow elites, having concealed her true nature until the moment was right—until he was pronounced dead. She also wasn’t being forced into this marriage; in fact, she likely consented eagerly, considering she got engaged just hours after he was allegedly declared dead.

Jason couldn't hold it in any longer; now he wailed. If his deceitful ex-wife was like the rest, incapable of genuine kindness, what would happen to him and, more importantly, to his sister? The Rothschilds had been his last hope of saving her, but now that he had been betrayed, didn’t that mean it was over? No, it couldn't be. He might go to prison for the debt, but he would at least try to save his sister.

“Please! Please!” Jason screamed, his battered lips barely able to form words. “My sister, she's sick and was wrongly removed from the health program. I beg you, reinstate her before it's too late!” Madam Regina, who had joyfully watched the beatings, cackled. She couldn't care less about what happened to his sister and was personally glad she had been removed. It was one less commoner leeching off the Rothschilds' fleeting wealth. However, someone else felt differently and said, “After what you've done here today, you’d be lucky if I didn’t throw that sister of yours off a cliff.”

Jason caught the threat, and it ignited a fire of anger within him. He could accept ridicule for his background and illiteracy, as well as humiliation and assaults, but he wouldn't tolerate any elite threatening his sister's life. His knuckles tightened until they cracked, and fueled by an otherworldly force, he exploded from the crowd and launched himself at the person. A hefty punch connected with Dominic Stone's face, knocking him to the ground. Gasps erupted from all the guests. Did this man know who he had just hit?

Dominic, flat on the ground, touched his lips and felt blood. He nervously darted his eyes at the five families, who were laughing amongst themselves at his expense. It was over. Not only had he completely lost the opportunity to consolidate power despite all his efforts, but he had also been humiliated by a commoner who was supposed to be dead—all in one day and at the hands of one person. If he weren’t so angry, he might have actually found it amusing. His blood-covered lips stretched into a maniacal grin and he quietly chuckled.

Jason was quickly apprehended and, by Madam Regina's orders, dragged out. He shot Rachel one last glance, which she returned. As he was pushed out, a brutalized mobster sprinted forward but immediately froze, pressing himself against the wall, trembling at the sight of him. Like a victim encountering his assaulter, the man was wide-eyed and hyperventilating, and Jason wondered why. Eventually, he was pulled out, and the man had a chance to move. He reported the true reasons Jason was alive and detailed the massacre to Mister Stone, shattering his misconceptions. Dominic grabbed the underling's coat, pulling him close. “Grab him. Don’t let him leave. And”—he chuckled—“prepare some explosives too.”