I stared at the photograph in my hands, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. Isabelle''s smile radiated happiness, her body pressed against mine as we stood in front of Jade Moon Vi. It was taken just days before she disappeared—one of the few tangible memories I had left of her.


    A noise from the hallway caught my attention. It was almost time. Isabelle had promised to meet me today, and my heart raced at the thought of seeing her again.


    I carefully ced the photo back on my nightstand and headed toward my bedroom door. I needed to make sure everything was perfect for her arrival.


    As I stepped into the hallway, I collided with someone—hard. The impact sent me stumbling backward.


    "Watch where you''re going," a cold voice snapped.


    I looked up to find myself face-to-face with a young man I''d never seen before. Tall, immactely dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than most people made in a month. His eyes, sharp and calcting, sized me up with unmistakable contempt.


    "Who are you? How did you get in here?" I demanded, straightening myself.


    A smirk spread across his face. "So you''re the famous Liam Knight everyone''s been talking about." He looked me up and down dismissively. "Pathetic."


    I felt my temper rising but kept it in check. "You didn''t answer my question."


    "Dashiell ckthorne." He said the name as if it should mean something to me. When my expression remained unchanged, his smirk deepened. "The heir to the ckthorne family of Veridia City."


    The name hit me like a physical blow. The ckthorne family—one of the most powerful families in Veridia City, ranked alongside the Ashworths themselves.


    "What are you doing in my home?" I kept my voice level despite the anger building inside me.


    Dashiell strode past me into my bedroom, his movements casual, deliberately disrespectful. He spotted the photograph I''d just been holding and picked it up.


    "Interesting," he said, studying it with narrowed eyes. "So the rumors are true."


    I moved quickly, snatching the frame from his hands. "Don''t touch that."


    Dashiell chuckled, the sound devoid of any warmth. "Amoner like you daring to court Isabelle Ashworth? You really don''t know your ce, do you?"


    "My rtionship with Isabelle is none of your business," I replied coldly.


    His eyes shed dangerously. "Everything about Isabelle Ashworth is my business."


    A sick feeling twisted in my gut. "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "It means," Dashiell said, stepping closer until we were nearly nose to nose, "that you''re nothing but a temporary distraction. A charity case she took pity on."


    I held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "You don''t know anything about us."


    "I know that you''re a nobody from nowhere." His voice dripped with disdain. "While Ie from a family that has been aligned with the Ashworths for generations."


    "If you came here just to insult me—"


    "I came here to see what all the fuss was about," Dashiell interrupted. "To see this ''prodigy'' everyone''s been whispering about. The man who supposedly impressed even Michael Ashworth himself." He shook his head,ughing. "What a disappointment."


    My hands clenched into fists. "Get out of my house."


    Instead of leaving, Dashiell walked around my room, examining everything with theatrical interest. "You know, Michael Ashworth doesn''t have long to live. The doctors give him a year, maybe two."


    The news hit me hard. Michael Ashworth had been one of my few allies among the elite.


    "And when he''s gone," Dashiell continued, "Corbin Ashworth will solidify his control. And guess who Corbin favors as a match for his precious niece?" He pointed to himself with a mocking smile.


    "Isabelle would never agree to that," I said, though doubt niggled at me.


    "She won''t have a choice. Neither of you will." Dashiell''s smile vanished, reced by cold certainty. "The games you two have been ying will end. Reality will set in. And reality is, Liam, that people like you don''t end up with people like her."


    I took a step toward him, anger finally breaking through my restraint. "I love her. And she loves me. That''s the only reality that matters."


    Dashiell''sughter echoed through my bedroom. "Love? You think love means anything in our world?" He shook his head. "Marriages aren''t about love—they''re about power, about alliance, about bloodlines."


    "Maybe in your twisted world," I shot back. "But Isabelle isn''t amodity to be traded."


    "No, she''s an Ashworth. Born to privilege and responsibility." His eyes narrowed. "What can you offer her? This pathetic little vi? A life of mediocrity?"


    My patience snapped. "I''m going to be strong enough that none of you—not you, not Corbin, not anyone—can dictate our lives. Isabelle will be with whoever she chooses." <var ss="story-note-vis">This is pаrt оf а sеriеs frоm Мy Virtuаl Librаry Еmpirе (М|V|L1ЕМРYR).</var>


    "Strong enough?" Dashiell''s expression shifted from mockery to something darker. "Let''s test that theory, shall we?"


    Before I could react, his hand shot out, gripping my throat and mming me against the wall. The force knocked the wind from my lungs.


    "I''ve heard you''re quite the fighter now," he said, his grip tightening. "Show me."


    I channeled my energy, golden light ring around my body as I broke his hold and countered with a strike to his chest.


    To my shock, my blow didn''t even move him. Dashiell stood there, utterly unaffected, as if I''d done nothing more than tap him with a finger.


    "Pathetic," he repeated, his eyes reflecting genuine disappointment.


    I attacked again, this time using one of my strongest techniques—the Nine Secret Steps that Jackson Harding himself had taught me. My body blurred with speed as I delivered a series of precisely targeted strikes.


    Dashiell barely bothered to defend himself. He simply stood there, absorbing the impacts with minimal movement.


    "Is this really all you have?" he asked, sounding bored.


    Frustration and disbelief coursed through me. I''d defeated countless opponents, even those far more experienced than me. Yet this man was treating my attacks like they were nothing.


    I summoned every ounce of my power for one devastating blow. Golden energy swirled around my fist as I struck directly at his core.


    Dashiell finally moved—but only to catch my fist in his palm. The impact created a small shockwave that rattled the windows, but he didn''t budge an inch.


    "My turn," he said softly.


    His counterattack was so fast I barely saw iting. A blur of movement, and then pain exploded across my chest. I crashed through my bedroom door, splintering wood, and mmed into the hallway wall.


    Before I could recover, Dashiell was on me again. A kick sent me tumbling down the stairs, each impact sending fresh waves of agony through my body.


    Inded in a crumpled heap in the entrance hall. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth as I struggled to rise.


    Dashiell descended the stairs slowly, deliberately, like a predator savoring the moment. "This is the difference between us, Liam Knight. Not just wealth or status—but power."


    I managed to get to my knees, my vision blurring from the pain. "I will get stronger."


    "No, you won''t." His foot smashed into my chest, pinning me to the floor. "Because people like you reach their limit. People like me?" He increased the pressure, making me gasp. "We were born without limits."


    Blood filled my mouth as I stared up at him, hatred burning in my eyes.


    "Listen carefully," Dashiell said, leaning down. "Stay away from Isabelle. Forget she ever existed. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of."


    Despite the pain, despite beingpletely overpowered, I managed to spit blood onto his polished shoe. "Never."


    Dashiell''s face darkened with rage. He grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off the ground. "You really don''t understand your position, do you? You''re nothing. Less than nothing."


    "If I''m nothing," I choked out, "why are you so threatened by me?"


    His grip tightened, cutting off my air. "Threatened? By you?" Heughed, the sound cruel and dismissive. "You''re not even worth killing."


    He flung me across the room like a rag doll. I crashed into a table, sending vases and ornaments shattering across the floor.


    Gasping for breath, I pushed myself up on bleeding hands. "One day... you''ll regret this."


    Dashiell straightened his suit jacket, brushing off invisible dust. "Threats from amoner. How amusing."


    He walked toward the door, pausing only to deliver one final blow. "Isabelle deserves someone of her caliber—not trash like you."


    Something inside me snapped at those words. Despite my injuries, despite knowing I was outmatched, I forced myself to my feet. "Between the two of us, who''s really the trash!"


    Dashiell stopped, his hand on the doorknob, his back to me. For a moment, tension filled the air—would he turn around to finish what he''d started?