Chapter 83: A Second Mistake

The atmosphere had barely settled from Samuel Vance's downfall when another mishap threatened to shift the night once again.

As the elite guests mingled, enjoying the luxury that only Blackwood could provide, a waiter hurried past with a tray of wine glasses. The slightest misstep—an accidental nudge from behind—sent one of the glasses tumbling.

The red wine splashed across the sleeve of Mr. Hayes—Skylar's father.

Silence.

The waiter froze in horror.

Mr. Hayes stared at his now-stained suit, his face twisting in frustration. His already sour mood—a result of being surrounded by people far richer than him—boiled over.

"You incompetent fool!" he barked, his voice cutting through the music.

The waiter, a young man barely in his twenties, bowed quickly. "I—I'm so sorry, sir! It was an accident."

An accident.

That single word only seemed to anger Mr. Hayes further.

"Do you have any idea how much this suit costs?" he snapped. "You should be grateful you even have a job here! People like you—"

Chris, still in his worker disguise, had been watching the whole thing. His gaze darkened.

Ethan, standing nearby, hadn't moved yet. Instead, he observed, his expression calm but unreadable.

The crowd was watching now.

A few guests whispered among themselves, but no one dared step in. This wasn't Samuel Vance—this was the father of Chris's fiancée.

Chris sighed.

Then he moved.

Before Mr. Hayes could continue humiliating the young waiter, Chris stepped forward.

"That's enough," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Mr. Hayes turned, clearly ready to lash out at whoever had dared interrupt him—until his gaze landed on Chris.

His eyes narrowed.

"You," he muttered, recognition flickering in his expression. He didn't know Chris was Blackwood's true heir, but he knew him as the broke student dating his daughter.

Chris met his glare evenly. "It was an accident."

Mr. Hayes scoffed. "And who are you to speak here?"

Chris didn't react. "You're making a scene over a stain. You should calm down."

"Calm down?" Mr. Hayes stepped closer. "Do you have any idea how much this suit is worth? It costs more than whatever miserable paycheck that waiter gets in a year."

Chris's jaw tightened. He wasn't easily provoked, but he despised people who thought wealth gave them the right to treat others like trash.

Before Chris could respond, Ethan finally decided to intervene.

"Mr. Hayes."

The smooth, commanding voice immediately shifted the atmosphere.

Mr. Hayes straightened, his anger momentarily clashing with caution. Unlike Samuel Vance, he was smart enough to fear Ethan.

Ethan took a slow step forward, adjusting his cufflinks.

"That waiter," he said, his tone calm but sharp, "is under Blackwood's employment. And at a Blackwood event, our employees are treated with the same level of respect as our guests."

The message was clear.

Mr. Hayes clenched his fists, his frustration now mixed with something else—nervousness. He wasn't powerful enough to challenge Ethan, not when his entire business depended on keeping doors like these open.

"I—" he started, but Ethan cut him off.

"Apologize."

The single word felt like a command from a king.

Mr. Hayes stiffened.

His pride fought against his survival instincts. He glanced at the watching crowd, then at Chris—the last person he wanted to show weakness in front of.

But this wasn't his home. This was Blackwood's territory.

And he had no choice.

He turned to the waiter, his jaw tight.

"...I apologize."

The waiter, still shaken, nodded quickly. "It's okay, sir."

Ethan smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

"Good," he said. "Now, let's enjoy the rest of the night, shall we?"

Just like that, the moment ended.

The crowd, having witnessed yet another powerful man put in his place, slowly returned to their conversations.

Mr. Hayes turned away, but his humiliation was evident. His expression darkened further when he noticed Skylar standing nearby, watching everything.

Her eyes flickered between her father and Chris.

Chris met her gaze. He could tell she was trying to figure something out.

She had seen two powerful men fall tonight.

And somehow, Chris was always in the middle of it.

But before she could say anything, Ethan's voice broke through.

"Now," Ethan announced smoothly, "let's get

back to celebrating."

The music swelled, and the party resumed.

But Chris knew.

This night was far from over.