“Look! Look! He’s really kneeling! He actually got down on his knees!”
They all thought I was bowing to Oliver—begging for forgiveness.
But just as they reveled in my so-called humiliation, the elevator doors slid open.
Two bodyguards stepped out, each carrying a large bronze basin of fire. They set it down in front of me with care and precision.
In my arms was a stack of joss paper.
I bowed deeply, solemn and sincere, offering up my grief, love, and longing—reduced to ash in the rising smoke.
“Leon—Leonard, are you insane?! Somebody put that fire out!”
Oliver panicked, never expecting I’d be so bold or so disrespectful in his eyes.
What he truly never expected—was the two men standing behind me.
Two men that were worth more than an army.
There were one hundred forty security guards stationed on the first floor, and these two still made it up here, and didn't even break a sweat.
Oliver should’ve asked himself why.
Every bodyguard who tried to stop them was taken down. Not one remained standing.
The most unfortunate of them, his face landed right in the burning basin.
When I opened my eyes, Oliver was standing directly in front of me. There was blood on his face, but I didn't know if it was his or someone else’s.
He pointed at me, his voice trembling but still trying to sound authoritative. “You—You dare burn paper in this company? What, you want us all to grieve with you? Or are you cursing the entire Moonweave Global?!”
“What if I said both?” I shrugged.
There was blood smeared across his face, his fear poorly masked by anger.
I fed the flames more joss paper, my voice was calm. “Assistant Stetson, do you even have any useful men left?”
Across the entire third floor, those with intact arms and legs could be counted on one hand.
Oliver touched his face with a shaking hand and forced out a threat.
“You dare run wild in the Stewart family’s domain? You must have a death wish! Offending anyone else, maybe you’d live—but offend the Stewart family, and you’re dead for sure! You think you’re walking out of Moonweave Global alive today?!”
I smiled faintly. “Instead of worrying about me, maybe you should think about what great accomplishments you’ve got to your name that might just spare your dog life.”
To be fair, Oliver did have reinforcements.
Even as we spoke, a new team of elite security guards had arrived—lined up in perfect formation.
It gave him courage.
“For thirty years, no one dared to lay a finger on me,” he said smugly.
“You’ve got a silver tongue, sure, but if not for that, you'd be dead already. I’ll give you one last chance—grab that filthy fire basin and jump out the window yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I had no intention of getting involved with the Stewart family mess again. I had tried to mind my own business.
But this assistant of theirs was clearly eager to dig his own grave.
“I’ve already notified President Stewart. If nothing goes wrong, she’ll be here soon. Leonard, shall we begin?”
He stepped back and motioned toward the window, as if preparing a stage.
This engagement was arranged by our elders. It was my grandmother’s final wish—to see her grandson marry this woman.
But after everything that’s happened, this marriage no longer needs to happen.
“What are you all standing around for?” he barked. “Go restrain Leonard already!”
Two of the bodyguards hesitated and approached me cautiously.
They wanted to grab me, but kept glancing nervously at the two men behind me.
Their hesitation was almost amusing.
“If any of you so much as lays a finger on me today,” I said, “you won’t even leave behind a whole corpse.”
They began to fidget like ants in a hot pan.
Meanwhile, I calmly sat down and continued burning the last of the joss paper.
“What a bunch of useless trash! Fine, I’ll do it myself!” Oliver hissed. “He’s damaging company property and bringing in this deathly nonsense. Aren’t you afraid you’ll burn down the entire building?!”
“If it burns, it burns,” I replied indifferently.
“You arrogant bastard! You’ll pay for this!”
Oliver rolled up his sleeves, ready to charge at me like a madman.
He took only two steps—then the elevator dinged open again.
Out came a crowd, packed shoulder to shoulder.
At the front was a sharp, poised woman with cold eyes.
It was Lydia, my fiancée.
The one who never knew what she really had.
“Outrageous!”
Oliver immediately put on his sycophantic smile.
“President Stewart! You’re here!”
As he walked past me, he gave my leg a swift kick.
“You heard that, didn’t you? This is pure insolence!”
