Robert and Kennedy’s faces instantly transformed from cold to delighted. “Kaisen, you made it!” Robert exclaimed, standing to shake hands. Kennedy beamed. “Come in, dear. We were waiting for you.”

Kaisen Witherspoon, thirty-seven, heir to the Witherspoon Group, a logistics and shipping empire, longtime partners of the Patsons. I knew the name from Ruby, but I never expected him here. Kaisen greeted them warmly, like family. “Uncle Robert. Aunt Kennedy. Sorry I’m late. Work was crazy.”

His eyes flicked to me—no curiosity, no friendliness, just a quick, dismissive appraisal. The look of someone far above looking down. But when he looked at Ruby, the coldness melted into obvious possessiveness, as if she had always belonged to him.

Ruby went pale and gripped my hand harder. Kennedy immediately pulled Ruby to her feet. “Ruby, come sit next to Kaisen so you two can catch up.” She deliberately rearranged the seating, pushing me to the far end of the table. I felt slapped in the face, but I couldn’t react.

Kaisen sat beside Ruby without hesitation. “Ruby, it’s been too long. How have you been?” he asked sweetly, completely ignoring me. Ruby answered curtly, eyes pleading toward me.

From that moment, the entire dinner revolved around Kaisen. His family empire, the Witherspoon Group’s latest deals, the perfect synergy between the two families. Robert was thrilled. “Kaisen, tell me about that new shipping project. We should definitely partner up.”

Kaisen smiled smugly and talked at length while Ruby sat silent, head down. I had been turned into a complete outsider, relegated to the end of the table like an unwanted guest. Every word they spoke cut deeper, and I finally understood—Kaisen’s appearance was no coincidence. This was planned.

My heart raced, dread rising. Ruby looked at me, eyes glistening with tears. I knew it then. The storm was coming.

Dinner finally ended, but not in any way I had hoped. The plate sat cold on the table, and the air was so heavy I could barely breathe. Robert Patson wiped his mouth with a pristine white napkin, pushed back his chair, and stood, his gaze sweeping over everyone like a king issuing a decree.

“Everyone, before we end tonight, I have something to make perfectly clear,” he announced, voice low but commanding. Kennedy nodded beside him. Kaisen leaned back in his chair, a smug half-smile on his lips. Ruby’s hand tightened painfully around mine under the table. I could feel her trembling. I swallowed hard and waited.

Robert looked straight into my eyes without blinking. “Hudson, you seem like a decent young man. I won’t deny that, but I do not accept your relationship with Ruby. Not now. Not ever.”

The word struck like lightning. I froze, mouth open, unable to speak. Ruby shot to her feet. “Dad, how can you say that?” He raised a hand to silence her.

“Quiet. This is a family decision. Ruby has been promised in marriage for a long time to serve the alliance between our two conglomerates. The man chosen for her is Kaisen Witherspoon.” He gestured proudly toward Kaisen as if unveiling a flawless business deal.

My heart stopped. An arranged marriage to that guy. Kaisen stood, smiling with arrogant confidence. “That’s right, Uncle Robert. I’m very much looking forward to officially becoming part of the family,” he said smoothly, voice dripping with venomous charm, his eyes flicked to me, openly challenging, victorious in every gesture.

Blood rushed to my head, but I forced myself to stay calm. This was not the moment to lose control. Ruby couldn’t take it anymore. She rushed toward her father, face flushed with fury and despair.

“I won’t accept this. I don’t want to marry Kaisen. I only love Hudson. This is my life, not a business transaction.” Her voice echoed through the vast dining room, thick with tears. I was proud of her, but terrified at the same time.

Robert and Kennedy exploded with rage. Robert slammed the table. “You’re impulsive and stupid. How dare you put your childish feelings above the interests and honor of this family? Who do you think you are to decide everything?”

Kennedy screeched. “You shameless girl. Do you have any idea how much embarrassment you’ve caused us? This empire was built on decades of sweat, tears, and sacrifice. And now you want to destroy it all for some mediocre financial consultant who isn’t even in our league?”

Their fury spread like wildfire. Robert stepped toward Ruby, face purple, hand raised as if to strike. My stomach lurched. No, this could not happen. I surged forward, placing myself between them, shielding Ruby with my own body.

“Sir, please stop. Ruby is your daughter, and I love her. No one is going to tear us apart.” My voice shook, but it was firm. Ruby clung to my back, sobbing. For a second, I felt like a hero, but I knew the real storm was only beginning.

My actions were like pouring gasoline on the fire. All of Robert’s rage turned toward me. “You little bastard. How dare you interfere in my family’s affairs. You’re nothing but a schemer who used my daughter’s feelings to climb the social ladder. You think you’re worthy? You’re destroying the Patson legacy, you greedy nobody.”

The insults rained down. Kennedy joined in. “Exactly, you penniless trash. Get out of my house.”

I stood there absorbing every blow, heart tearing apart. I wasn’t scheming. I loved Ruby with everything I had, but to them, I was the enemy.

The climax came faster than I expected. Robert turned to the security guards at the door. “Throw this man out of my estate right now. Don’t let him stay another minute.”

Two huge guards rushed in and grabbed my arms. I struggled, shouting Ruby’s name. She screamed and tried to run after me, but Robert barked, “Hold her back.” Guards blocked her, pinning her in place while I was dragged toward the exit. I twisted for one last look—Ruby fighting, tears streaming down her face. My heart shattered.

I was shoved outside. The heavy iron gate clanged shut behind me, separating us in the most brutal moment of all. I stood there in the dark, pounding the fence in humiliation, fear, and helplessness. How had everything gone so wrong?

I drove back to Manhattan late that night, mind reeling. Rain started to fall as if the sky itself mourned with me. When I got home, I collapsed onto the sofa and called Ruby with shaking hands. The phone rang forever. Then someone picked up. It wasn’t Ruby. It was Kennedy.

“How dare you call here again?” she snarled, voice dripping with contempt. “Because of you, Ruby had the nerve to defy us. Robert is furious. He’s locked her in the estate and won’t let her take one step outside. Don’t call again. Don’t look for Ruby again. You only make everything worse, you bastard.” Before I could say a word, the line went dead.

The following days were hell. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Every morning, I called Ruby dozens of times, endless ringing, then blocked. Texts, emails, even handwritten letters. Everything sank into silence. I felt trapped in glass, able to see her, but unable to reach her. Was she okay? What were they doing to her?

I couldn’t take it anymore. On the third day, I drove back to the Hamptons, desperate to see her. The mansion loomed under the late afternoon sun, but the moment I reached the gate, two guards blocked me. “Boss says, ‘No visitors. Get lost.’” They shoved me back. I begged, “Please, just one minute with Ruby.” Useless.

Then one pouring afternoon after I had stood outside the gate for four hours in the rain, an old man limped out—the family’s longtime butler. Silver hair, kind but tired eyes.

“You’re Hudson, aren’t you? I’ve seen you waiting for hours.”

I nodded, pleading. “Sir, please help me. I just need to know if Ruby is all right.”

He glanced around, then whispered. “You really love her. Listen, the master has locked Miss Ruby in her room. Guards watch her around the clock. She can’t contact anyone. She’s refusing the arranged marriage, so she’s basically under house arrest.”

The words hit me like thunder. Locked up. House arrest. My heart broke. “Is she okay?”

The old man sighed. “She stopped eating and drinking in protest. She looks very weak, son.”

I was devastated. Ruby was starving herself for us. Tears mixed with the rain. “Please tell her not to hurt herself. Tell her to stay strong and take care of her health. Tell her I love her.”

He nodded gently. “I’ll pass the message.” Then he turned away, leaving me standing there with a fragile thread of hope amid crushing pain.

Every time the phone rang, I lunged for it, praying it was her, but it never was. I thought about our future. Could we overcome this? Or was this the end? The tension rose, the suspense unbearable, waiting for a miracle. But deep inside, I knew the real fight had only just begun.

That night, after the message from the butler, I dragged myself back to my apartment, body utterly exhausted but mind spinning. I collapsed onto the sofa and stared out the window at the city lights, twinkling like fake stars. Rain was still pattering outside, mingling with the constant honking from the street below. Every time I thought of Ruby locked in her room, refusing food and water, my heart ached. She was sacrificing herself for us, for our love, for me. And I was sitting here powerless, doing nothing.

One thought kept gnawing at me. Should I finally reveal the truth about who I really am? The truth that no one, not even Ruby, knows.

The truth is, I’m not just an ordinary financial consultant. I own and run Wright Capital Partners, a highly respected international investment fund based in New York. My fund manages hundreds of millions of dollars for major global investors. My personal monthly income regularly exceeds $50,000, sometimes doubles or triples when big deals close. I have real standing in the financial world. I’m quietly invited to the closed-door conferences where decisions that move entire economies are made, yet no one knows. I keep it completely hidden. I live so modestly, it’s almost bizarre compared to my peers. My apartment is a simple place in the East Village. Old furniture. No luxury car, no flashy watches. I dress plainly, take the subway, and avoid every form of ostentation.

Why? Because I despise that glittering world. I grew up in a middle-class family, watched my parents work themselves to the bone for a decent life, and I learned that money isn’t everything. It can buy power, but it can’t buy authenticity.

I stubbed out the cigarette, stood up, and paced the room, torn by conflicting emotions. If I revealed everything now, Robert Patson would almost certainly change his tune. He worshiped status and family advantage, and I have more than enough of both. But then what? Would Ruby forgive the deception? Or would she think I was no different from Kaisen, someone who buys love with money?

I remembered our first meeting like a slow-motion film reel. It was two years ago at an institutional investment conference in Midtown Manhattan. The hall was packed with expensive suits and talk of stocks and bonds. I sat in the back row, trying not to stand out, even though my fund was managing a massive Asian allocation at the time. Ruby took the microphone during Q&A to ask about long-term investment risk. She looked gentle, long brown hair, warm smile, but her question was razor sharp and intelligent. The entire room went quiet.

“Sir, how do you balance profit with ethical investing?” she asked, and I was instantly captivated.

She was dressed simply, no flashy jewelry. But I knew from the program that she was the daughter of Robert Patson, the import-export titan who controlled Patson Global Trading, a multi-billion dollar empire. I had studied his company for years through my fund’s research. Yet, when I approached her afterward for coffee, I revealed nothing. We started with a simple cup at a nearby cafe.

“Your question today was brilliant. It’s what made me notice you from the very first second,” I told her.

She laughed softly. “Thank you. I was just curious.”

From that moment, everything grew naturally. I kept my real life completely hidden. To Ruby, I was just an ordinary financial consultant working at a small firm, earning just enough to get by. I wanted it that way. I wanted to be loved for who I am, not for money or status. I was afraid that if she knew, everything would change, that our relationship would become tainted by the same transactional world her family lived in.

Our love deepened through simple dates, walks in Brooklyn parks, hot dogs from street carts, late-night talks in tiny cafes. We shared real things. I told her about my suburban New York childhood and how my parents taught me the value of honest work. She opened up about the pressure of always having to be perfect to uphold the family name. Those honest conversations brought us closer in the most genuine way. One rainy evening, she hugged me tightly and said, “You’re so different from everyone I’ve ever met. You’re one of the few people who lives true to himself.” In that moment, I almost told her everything, but I stayed silent. I was terrified of losing the purity we had.

Our love grew until one spring evening under blooming cherry trees in Central Park, we secretly got engaged. No diamond ring, just a private promise. “I choose to love you for the rest of my life, not for status, only for who you are.” We hadn’t told either family yet. I didn’t want a spectacle, and Ruby was afraid of her parents’ reaction.

Now, with our love torn apart by force, I felt more trapped than ever. I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, mind in chaos. If I revealed my true identity now, I could probably negotiate with Robert using pure financial power. My fund could invest in Patson Global Trading and create the exact alliance he dreamed of. But then what? Would Ruby forgive the deception? Or would she feel I had deceived her all along?

The days that followed were a living nightmare. I tried every possible way to reach Ruby, but nothing worked. I called from unknown numbers, sent anonymous emails, even paid a florist to deliver flowers to the estate in the hope of slipping in a note. Nothing got past the Patson family’s ironclad security. The old butler, my reluctant ally, occasionally slipped me a message. “The young miss is still holding on, but the master is watching her very closely.” Those words were drops of water in the desert, yet nowhere near enough to quench the fear burning inside me.

I wandered Manhattan for hours under the rain, mind spinning with plans. Should I hire a lawyer? Report the confinement to the police? Then I laughed bitterly at myself. The Patsons had their own lawyers and connections in high places. To them, I was just an ordinary nobody. Even though the truth was the opposite, the tension built. Every night I lay awake, heart racing, waiting for a miracle that never came.

Then one morning, while I was sitting in my usual cafe near the office, idly scrolling my phone to kill time, the news hit me like a nightmare made real—breaking alert on every screen. “Lavish wedding of the decade. Patson and Witherspoon families seal alliance through marriage.” Every outlet was flooded with photos. Kaisen grinning triumphantly beside Robert and Ruby. Oh God. Ruby in a dazzling evening gown, smile stiff and hollow. I went numb. My hand shook so violently the coffee cup tipped and spilled everywhere.

The headline named Ruby and Kaisen as the couple. The last fragile threads of hope, the secret messages, the dreams of reunion shattered like glass. I couldn’t speak. The noisy cafe faded to silence. I stumbled outside, gasping for air, trying to hold back the pain ripping through my chest. Was this real, Ruby? Had you given up?

I couldn’t wait another second. I jumped in the car and drove like a madman to the Hamptons, mind in chaos. The two-hour drive felt eternal. Every mile another question—“Why are you doing this? Have you stopped believing in us?” When I reached the estate, I pounded on the gate, shouting, “Ruby, come out and talk to me.” Guards rushed forward, but this time Kennedy appeared at the entrance, cold as an ice queen in her silk robe, hair perfectly pinned, eyes full of contempt.

“What are you doing here? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” she snapped.

I was panting. “Ma’am, the wedding news. Is it true? Where is Ruby right now?”

She gave a scornful laugh. “Of course it’s true. Ruby has come to her senses and accepted reality. She wants to end everything with you completely. Stop bothering her.”

I shook my head frantically. “No. Ruby would never give up that easily. We love each other.”

Kennedy pulled a handwritten note from her pocket and thrust it at me. “This is her final message to you. Read it and disappear.”

My hands trembled as I took it. Ruby’s familiar handwriting. The soft, flowing letters I had once kissed on love notes twisted my heart.

Hudson, my love, I’m sorry. We can’t go on. Please forget me and live well. Ruby.

Just a few short lines, yet they extinguished every last spark of hope. I read them over and over, tears blurring the ink. Was this really her handwriting, or was she forced? But the strokes were unmistakable. I collapsed to my knees right there at the gate, clutching the note, pain beyond words. Kennedy turned away. The gate clanged shut.

I walked away in a daze, empty and broken—a dead man walking.

For many nights after, I barely slept. My mind was haunted by images of Ruby. Her smile, her warm hugs, and now the vision of her beside Kaisen. I woke drenched in cold sweat, screaming into the dark. Why, Ruby? Why are you doing this to me?

My tiny apartment became a prison. Every corner reminded me of her. The coffee mug she loved. The book she’d left behind. I tried drinking to forget, but it only made everything worse. Memories flooded in like a tide. Our first date at that little cafe where she laughed until she cried at my stupid jokes. The night spent whispering about our future. “We’ll have kids, a little house,” she had once said. Now everything was ashes.

I wandered the night streets, the cold wind cutting my skin, but nothing compared to the pain inside. I waited desperately for a call, a text—only silence answered. I kept asking myself, is she happy or is she suffering, too?

The official wedding date was set just two weeks after the announcement. Under the lavish orchestration of both families, Ruby and Kaisen’s wedding was to be held at the ultra-luxurious Grand Seaside Resort in the Hamptons, the playground of elite society. I read the reports: outdoor reception, live orchestra, hundreds of high-profile guests. My heart bled imagining the scene. Of course, I wasn’t invited, but I couldn’t stay away.

On the day of the wedding, I drove there in secret, parked far off, and watched from a distance behind the security fence and the stream of arriving guests. Security was airtight, black-suited guards everywhere. I hid behind a row of trees, heart hammering, waiting for one glimpse of her. The guests poured in, gleaming limousines, women in glittering gowns, men with cigars and fake smiles. Festive atmosphere for them. For me, it felt like a funeral.

Then I saw Ruby. She stepped out in a breathtaking wedding dress, pure white, long train flowing, diamonds sparkling in the sunlight. Kaisen stood beside her in a perfect black tux, arm possessively around her waist. Ruby’s face was calm, almost blank, as she climbed into the vintage Rolls-Royce bridal car. My heart tore in two. I whispered her name, tears streaming down my face. In that moment, I understood. Our love had been officially buried.

The car rolled away amid applause. I turned, ran back to my own car, and vomited from sheer agony. Why, Ruby? Was everything just an illusion?

I drove back to Manhattan, mind blank, the world around me blurred. After the wedding, I fell into a long period of collapse. Outwardly, I tried to appear normal, going to work, meeting friends, forcing smiles. But inside, Ruby haunted me. Every morning, I looked at her photo on my desk and whispered, “Are you really happy?” It took months, many long months, before I slowly began to recover.

I told myself I had to keep living. I couldn’t let the pain swallow me whole. I started running every morning, letting sweat wash away memories. I read books to fill my mind, but on lonely nights, the longing still crashed over me like a tidal wave. Gradually, I threw myself into work. As the head of an investment fund, I buried myself in huge deals, tech startup investments, negotiations with European partners, endless hours of market analysis, numbers, and charts became my anesthesia, dulling the loneliness.

Mr. Wright, this deal will bring in millions, my assistant would say. I nodded, but felt nothing.

Life regained a steady rhythm. Early mornings, meetings, quiet evenings in the apartment. On the outside, I looked strong again. But deep inside, my love for Ruby remained an untouched and unhealed scar. Some wounds, it seems, never fully close.

A year had passed since Ruby’s wedding day, and I had tried to bury that first love deep in my heart. Time is a strange medicine. It blurs the sharpest memories, but it never completely erases them. I still lived in Manhattan, still quietly ran Wright Capital Partners, but work was no longer an escape. It had become my actual life.

I woke at five every morning, ran along the Hudson River to chase away dreams of Ruby, then dove into the office on Wall Street. The deals kept coming. I invested in a biotech startup that doubled my money. I negotiated a massive real estate fund with European partners. Money poured in. My reputation in the financial world soared. Yet I remained invisible. Still driving the same old car, still wearing off-the-rack suits.

Mr. Wright, I’ve never seen anyone so talented and so modest, my assistant once said. I only gave a faint smile. Talented? I was just surviving, drowning loneliness in numbers and charts.

Occasionally, the pain flared like an old scar, a song on the radio, a familiar scent on the street. And I saw Ruby in her wedding dress walking away without looking back. I told myself, “Let it go, Hudson.” She chose a different path, but my heart knew it was a lie.

I threw myself completely into the fund. From a few hundred million under management, we crossed half a billion with partners all over the globe. I flew to London for meetings with British banks, then back to New York to sign deals with Silicon Valley giants. Sixteen-hour days, cold sandwiches at my desk, falling asleep with the laptop still open. Success restored a kind of balance, at least on the surface.

Friends said, “You look good, man.” I laughed it off. “Just working out. Nothing special.” But at night, when the city slept, I sat by the window watching the crowds below and wondered, “How is Ruby now? Does she ever think of me? Is she happy with Kaisen?” A quiet dread crept in, but I pushed it away. Stop thinking about her, I told myself, and buried myself deeper in work.

Then one afternoon while I was in my apartment reviewing weekend financial reports, the doorbell rang. I frowned. Almost no one ever visited me, especially this late. I opened the door and nearly froze. Robert and Kennedy Patson stood there looking gaunt and exhausted. Nothing like the arrogant, icy couple I remembered. Robert was thinner, his silver beard unkempt, suit wrinkled as if thrown on in a hurry. Kennedy, once so elegant with her pearl necklace, now had red-rimmed eyes and hollow cheeks. They looked like ghosts from the past, stripped of all their former authority.

My heart pounded. Why were they here? Was something wrong with Ruby? I tried to stay calm, but my voice shook slightly. “What brings you here?”

They looked at me with pleading, almost timid eyes, so different from the contempt I once knew. Robert spoke first, voice trembling. “Hudson, we need to talk privately. Please let us in.” Kennedy nodded, clutching her handbag as if afraid to let go.

I stood stunned for a second, memories of that humiliating dinner flooding back, the insults, the ejection. But then I stepped aside and let them in. The silence was heavy as a courtroom. We sat on the sofa. The air was thick. I poured water with slightly trembling hands.

“Have some water now. Tell me, I’m listening.”

Robert took a deep breath and began recounting everything that had happened in the years since Ruby’s arranged marriage. His voice wavered. The once confident tycoon was gone.

“At first, after the wedding, everything looked perfect from the outside. Patson Global Trading and Witherspoon Group joined forces. Huge contracts rolled in. Asian shipping routes, cross-border logistics, millions flowing every month.” He sighed heavily, eyes downcast, all hardness vanished. “I really believed I had done the right thing, that sacrificing Ruby’s happiness was the price to protect the family empire.”

Kennedy continued, choking up. “We thought it was the perfect alliance. Kaisen said all the right things, made big promises. For a while, it really did look good, at least on the surface.”

Then Robert’s face darkened. “But it was all a setup from the beginning. Kaisen and his family had been planting people inside our company, heads of finance, logistics directors. Step by step, he took control of key departments and redirected information to his side.”

I listened, pulse quickening.

“The lucrative contracts, the golden shipping lanes, were quietly shifted to Witherspoon Group, leaving Patson with only risky, loss-making deals and even fake contracts to hide the theft.” Robert gave details—a $50 million contract with a Chinese partner that should have been ours was manipulated and sent to his company. “We were left with scraps and massive legal exposure. Because I trusted my son-in-law and the family alliance, I let my guard down completely.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “I thought he was family. Who would have guessed?”

When clients began walking away, contracts canceled, partners pulling capital, banks calling in loans at punishing rates, Robert finally realized he had been trapped. “My family company has been bled dry. Hudson, debt is crushing us. The stock is in freefall. We’re on the verge of bankruptcy with no way out.”

At his lowest point, sleepless nights, Kennedy in tears, Kaisen appeared like a savior, offering to rescue them by merging Patson Global Trading into the Witherspoon Group with him taking full control. “He said it was the only way to save the company,” Robert said bitterly. “But really, he just wanted to swallow us whole. Only now did I see Kaisen’s true ambition. Not just a marriage alliance, but a calculated takeover of the entire Patson empire, using Ruby as bait.”

My fists clenched, rage mixing with the old pain. That smug bastard from a year ago was a viper.

I kept my voice steady. “And then?”

Robert’s eyes filled with tears. “There’s more. It’s about Ruby.” His voice broke. “Ruby has been living in hell, Hudson. Right after the wedding, Kaisen started controlling her completely. He cut off all her social contacts, forbade her from going out alone, monitored every call. She’s a prisoner in his mansion.”

Kennedy sobbed. “He torments her psychologically, insults, threats, total control. He tells her she’s nothing but decoration. When she doesn’t obey, he hits her.”

The word struck me like a physical blow. Beating her. My gentle, brilliant Ruby—beaten. Old wounds ripped open, pain and fury surged through me.

Robert continued, voice shaking. “He openly keeps mistresses, brings them home, treats Ruby like furniture in his political marriage. She suffered alone, too afraid to tell anyone. During one rare escape, while Kaisen was away on business, Ruby came home and collapsed in front of her parents, broke down completely, revealing the nightmare. Nights crying alone, bruises on her body, constant terror. She fell to her knees and sobbed, ‘You pushed me into hell.’”

Kennedy recounted, voice breaking. I sat frozen, rage and agony tearing me apart. The woman I had loved with all my heart was living in that kind of hell.

“Why? Why didn’t you get her out?” I asked, voice hoarse.

Robert bowed his head. “We tried, but Kaisen is too powerful now. And with the company about to collapse…” He looked up at me, eyes pleading. “Hudson, you are our last hope.”

The tension spiked like a bomb about to explode. My heart raced, old love and new fury colliding. What would happen next? I took a deep breath, waiting.

I sat in complete silence as they told the entire story. From the expressions on their faces to the tremor in their voices, I could tell Robert and Kennedy Patson were not lying. Every ounce of suffering and desperation was real. Robert’s hands shook as he described the manipulated contracts. Kennedy kept wiping away tears when she spoke of Ruby. The air in my small apartment felt so thick I could hardly breathe.

After a long pause, I asked directly, voice calm but probing, “Sir, ma’am, I understand everything you’ve told me. But why come to me? In your eyes, I’m just an ordinary financial consultant, someone with no ability to pull the Patson empire out of this crisis, right?” I stared straight into their eyes, waiting. My heart pounded. I knew the answer would change everything.

Robert and Kennedy exchanged a glance. Robert cleared his throat, voice pleading. “Hudson, you’re not the man we thought you were. Recently, quite by accident, we learned your real identity in the investment world.”

Kennedy added, voice trembling. “We heard from an old business contact. You run a major fund, Wright Capital Partners, don’t you? You manage hundreds of millions of dollars with ties to the biggest investors on the planet. You have the financial strength and the network to save our company.”

The words exploded in my head like a bomb. They knew. I had hidden that identity for years. Lived modestly to avoid prying eyes. And now the very people who once despised me had uncovered it.

I sat motionless, trying to process. Robert continued, voice heavy with open desperation. “Hudson, we truly have no other way out. We beg you, please inject capital to save Patson Global Trading. Only you can restructure the company. Pull us back from the brink. Bring in new partners.” His voice cracked at the end. “But more important than anything, please save Ruby. She’s slowly dying in that hellish marriage. We’re powerless against Kaisen.”

Kennedy nodded silently, tears streaming down her cheeks, voice shaking with hopelessness. “You’re the only one who can do this, Hudson. For Ruby and for everything we’ve lost. Please.”

Hearing this, every memory of that humiliating dinner flooded back. The vast dining room in the Hamptons. Robert’s sneer when he asked about my job. Kennedy’s judgmental stare at my cheap suit. And then Kaisen walking in, turning me into a nobody. The insults—schemer, social climber—still cut like knives whenever I remembered them. Anger flared inside me, hot and fierce, yet my face remained ice cold. I refused to show weakness in front of them.

“Sir, ma’am,” I said slowly, every word sharp and deliberate. “It was you who insulted me, who looked down on me because of so-called class differences. You used your power to force us apart. Had me thrown out of your estate like trash.” I paused, eyes locked on theirs. “And now, when