Chapter Three

The cold metal back of an AK-47 smacked into Jason, sending him stumbling into a puddle of dirty water. “Shut up and get lost,” a voice thundered, reeking of impatience. The destitute man didn't seem to be giving up, and the guards - dressed in dark overcoats, adorned with skull badges, and armed with machine guns - stepped out, their faces a murderous countenance as they trained their loaded guns on him. One scoffed, “You, a commoner, married to Miss Rachel for two years? How laughable. It's best you disappear before you lose your legs, delivery boy.”

Jason raised his hands in fear. “Don't shoot. I'm telling the truth. Okay, let's try this: call Madam Regina and let her know it's me. She knows who I am and will let me talk to Rachel .” The men didn't budge, but Jason remained steadfast, though terrified. He knew that getting into the estate was the only way to contact his wife and clarify the misunderstanding, thereby saving his sister. It was now or never.

His eyes trailed behind the gunmen, and he noticed hundreds of expensive vehicles, many he hadn't seen before. It clicked, and he smiled knowingly. “The Rothschilds are throwing a party, right? It makes sense because my wedding anniversary with Rachel is tomorrow, and they're celebrating it early. You see, I came here to debunk the rumors about my death, but I guess the Rothschilds purposely planned it and are hosting a surprise party for me and my wife. It seems they have finally acknowledged me. So, please let me in so I can talk to somebody and prove my identity.”

The guards paused upon hearing this, their serious expressions fading as they exchanged glances. Witnessing this, Jason's face lit up, thinking he had finally gained their trust. But unexpectedly, they all erupted in laughter, some laughing so hard at his absurdity that tears streamed down their faces. Spotting a slim opportunity, Jason tried forcing his way into the estate. Instantly, the gunmen's faces contorted back into menacing masks, and they tackled him and fired a warning shot on his path. They weren't messing around, and Jason wasn't told twice before he disappeared from their sight to explore another alternative. Unfortunately, the other alternative—the servant gates—was locked. “Great.”

Despite the odds, Jason threw himself at the towering barbed wire gates, clutching the piercing wires and straining to haul himself over. Though he knew what was at stake, he couldn't quite muster the strength to lift himself over, but he didn't quit. Just as he thought he heard a digital increment, a sudden surge of energy coursed through his malnourished body, enabling him to effortlessly clear the gate, landing with a thud. Voices and footsteps echoed nearby, and Jason quickly hid from the patrolling guards.

They discussed a failed assassination that had claimed the lives of eight of their own, and the consequences that would unfold when the news reached the five families. Jason, eavesdropping, finally pieced together the truth. These men weren't security personnel, they were mobsters. But why were they posing as security? And what was this failed assassination they spoke of? He suspected the answers lay within the party. Since they had ridiculed his beliefs about the celebration, they must know something he didn't. Seeing no one nearby, Jason hastened, driven to dispel rumors of his death and possibly protect his wife from these dangerous people.

He snuck inside the grand abode to see dollar bills raining down and authentic diamonds shooting glittery reflections everywhere. The scent of expensive champagne and exotic cuisines filled the festive atmosphere, making his starving stomach rumble. Guests, all masked, mingled and feasted with each other, many throwing the luxurious items at the escorts who entertained them.

The celebration was more extravagant than he could have imagined and he stood completely immobilized by the sheer opulence. Jason only regained his senses, and became cautious when he spotted a dimly lit table that was a dangerous contrast to the rest. The table had guns on them and seated four men and one woman with different stylized golden badges. They adorned clothes representing their various ethnicities, smoked various sizes of cigarettes and barely acknowledged the party, conversing only amongst themselves.

Lowering his head, Jason searched for his wife, bowing to everyone he passed. However, his tattered clothes quickly became an eyesore amongst the wealthy and unfortunately attracted the attention of Colton, Jason's brother-in-law. The spoiled upperclassman grinned wickedly, glad that his needed entertainment had finally arrived.

“Good heavens, what’s that smell?” Colton shouted, his voice overpowering the music and drawing the guests’ attention to Jason. “An unkempt dog has crawled in here. It must be hungry. Please, someone feed it before it attacks us.” Colton mocked and beckoned some accomplices to attack Jason. They smashed their feet into the impoverished man, sending him headfirst to the marble tiles. The affluent guests, amused by the spectacle, then threw food scraps at him, laughing, making condescending puppy noises, and demanding tricks from him like he was a circus animal.

With a bruised head, Jason shut out the mockery and ignored the barrage of food hurled at him. He knew he couldn’t retaliate against the elites, understanding the severe consequences such an action would bring someone like him. Instead, he humbly asked Colton to tell him his wife’s whereabouts. The man was immediately enraged by Jason’s audacity, feeling insulted that his destitute brother-in-law would demand answers from him. Clenching his fist, Colton twisted and punched Jason, growling, “It seems you’ve forgotten who your superiors are.” The intensity of the blow sent Jason tumbling to the ground, and again he thought he heard a digital increment.

The elites burst into cheers and shouts, toasting Colton for the entertainment he provided. Arrogance radiated from every part of him, fueled by the praise his peers showered upon him.

Meanwhile, Jason lay on the cold floor, his head throbbing with an excruciating headache. Though he was curious about the digital increments he had just clearly heard, the stinging pain and the urgency to save his sister prevented him from fixating on it. He carefully rose to continue his search when the hall, except for the staircase balcony, plunged into darkness. There, a middle-aged woman adorned with pearls stood, her voice filled with excitement as she announced the union between her family and the Stones through matrimony. Jason recognized her voice—it was Madam Regina, the matriarch of the Rothschild family and Rachel’s mother.

It seemed the party was an engagement celebration, and Colton must be the groom. But wait, Colton stood there flanked by gorgeous chicks, which meant he wasn't the one the engagement party was about. If that was the case, didn't it mean his allegedly divorced wife was the only available option? Impossible. This made no sense. Colton had treated him as he always did; he hadn't acted like he believed he was dead, so his family probably didn't believe it either. Jason strained his eyes toward the balcony, his chest beating in anticipation as he unsteadily waited for the couple to emerge.

Madam Regina concluded her speech, her sharp, lipstick-red lips curling into a bright smile as she introduced the couple. “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed families of Greystone City, Governors, and Senators, it is my absolute pleasure to present to you Greystone's newest power couple—Dominic Stone and my daughter, Rachel Stone!” she exclaimed, and the crowd erupted in a disarray of applause. The lights flickered back on in the venue. But Jason's face darkened and his heart sank.

His eyes blurred with tears as he stared at Rachel. Dressed in a peach gown that accentuated her celestial grace, her rosy lips met those of the sturdy man beside her. He complimented her opulence, and together they appeared more convincing as a couple than his poverty-stricken self ever had. As the sophisticated couple descended the stairs, they exchanged French kisses and giggled. Rachel had promised to love him no matter the consequences, yet here she was, accompanied by a man who kissed the very mouth she had used to make that promise.