Julian's voice was not loud, but it cut through the air like a blade of arctic ice. The words ‘my wife’ echoed in Natalie's ears, sending a tremor straight to her core. His arm was a band of steel around her waist, pulling her flush against his hard body, shielding her. The warmth of him seeped through the fine silk of her new gown, a stark contrast to the glacial chill in his eyes as he stared down at Ethan and Vivian.
For a moment, Ethan was stunned into silence, his mocking smirk frozen on his face. But his arrogance quickly resurfaced, twisting his features into a sneer of disbelief.
“Your… wife?” Ethan scoffed, letting out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. He looked Julian up and down, his eyes filled with contemptuous assessment. Julian’s suit was impeccably tailored, his presence commanding, but Ethan was blinded by his own ego. He couldn't imagine Natalie landing anyone of substance. “Don’t be ridiculous. Natalie, you’ve become even more pathetic than I thought. So desperate to save face you hired an escort for the day?”
Vivian joined in, her voice a venomous whisper. “Oh, Ethan, don’t be so cruel. Maybe she found a kept man. Tell me,” she said, directing her poisonous gaze at Julian, “how much does she pay you to be her arm candy? You are handsome, I’ll give you that. But a man who lives off a woman is the lowest of the low.”
Natalie flinched, the insult striking her even though it wasn't aimed at her. She opened her mouth to defend Julian, to tell them they were wrong, but Julian’s grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly—a silent command to stay still, to let him handle it.
To her astonishment, a slow, dangerous smile touched Julian’s lips. It didn't reach his eyes. Those remained chips of obsidian, cold and unreadable. He seemed almost amused by their ignorance, like a lion watching two yapping dogs, deciding when to put them out of their misery.
“Is that what you think?” Julian’s voice was dangerously soft. “That I live off her?”
“What else could it be?” Ethan preened, puffing out his chest, feeling he had the upper hand. “A man of real status wouldn't be caught dead with a discarded piece of trash like her. You’re clearly just some nobody she’s using to make herself feel better.”
Just as Ethan finished his tirade, a commotion erupted from the far end of the boutique corridor. A portly man in a manager's uniform was sprinting towards them, his face pale and beaded with sweat. Two security guards trailed breathlessly behind him.
“Mr. Vance! Sir!” the man gasped, skidding to a halt a few feet away. His eyes, wide with panic and reverence, were fixed solely on Julian. He didn't even glance at Ethan or Vivian. To the utter shock of everyone present, the Mall Director, a man known for his haughty demeanor, dropped into a low, trembling bow. It was more than respect; it was pure, unadulterated fear.
“Mr. Vance, my deepest apologies! I had no idea you were gracing our establishment today! Had I known, I would have cleared the entire mall for you and Mrs. Vance!” He was practically hyperventilating. “Please, forgive our incompetence for not preparing a proper welcome!”
Ethan and Vivian froze, their smug expressions shattering like glass. Their mouths hung open. Vance? As in… *the* Vance?
Ethan’s mind spun. The Vance family was a legend in this city—a mythical entity of old money and untouchable power. But the true head of their empire, the mysterious young chairman of the Vance Real Estate Group, was notoriously private. No one knew what he looked like.
“Vance?” Ethan stammered, his voice suddenly small. “What… what Vance?”
The Mall Director shot Ethan a look of pure loathing, as if he were a piece of filth marring the pristine floor. “Are you a fool? This is Chairman Julian Vance! The owner of the Vance Real Estate Group! The very ground you are standing on, this entire Omni Plaza complex, belongs to him!”
The words hit Ethan and Vivian like a physical blow. The air was sucked from their lungs. The boutique, the mall, the land… all of it belonged to the silent, cold man whose arm was wrapped so possessively around Natalie.
Natalie’s heart hammered against her ribs. She stared up at Julian, her mind reeling. She knew he was rich, the black card had proven that. But she had no concept of this scale of power. He wasn’t just a wealthy man. He was an emperor in his own kingdom. And these two fools had just mocked an emperor to his face.
Vivian’s face had drained of all color, leaving a pasty, terrified mask. She looked from Julian’s unforgiving face to Natalie, who stood protected in his embrace, and a wave of nauseating dread washed over her. She had not just insulted a rival; she had insulted a god.
Julian finally turned his gaze from the groveling director back to the two statues of ice before him. He no longer looked amused. His expression was one of utter, dismissive finality. He didn't even deign to speak to them directly.
His voice, low and absolute, was an order to the director. “See to it that these two are never permitted entry into any high-end establishment in this city again.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over their horrified faces. “And make sure their employers understand the consequences of associating with people who have offended my wife.”
The finality in his tone was terrifying. It wasn't a threat; it was a verdict. A life sentence delivered in a calm, quiet breath.
Ethan's face turned ashen, while Natalie stared at Julian's flawless profile and her heart skipped a beat.