
Five Years of Concealment, The Abyss Monarch Revealed
Angela · Completed · 6.7k Words
Introduction
To protect her, I willingly buried my true name and spent five years as a humble mechanic in a wealthy family.
I swallowed countless cold stares and humiliations, seeking only a moment of peace.
But these fools, for the sake of family interests, dared to push her to the brink of destruction!
Since retreat only invites further aggression, I have no choice but to don once more that blood-stained crown.
When my steel torrent crashed through the manor gates, those privileged elites who once trampled me underfoot could only tremble desperately in the mud!
Chapter 1
The evening banquet hall of the Dupont family was always permeated with a suffocating sense of superiority.
I was arranged in the farthest corner of the hall, seated at a table with the Dupont family's drivers, bodyguards, and several elderly maids.
The crisp sound of a metal spoon tapping against a champagne glass instantly silenced the entire hall. My mother-in-law, Madame Genevieve, slowly rose with her wine glass in hand.
Her arrogant gaze pinned precisely on the corner where I sat. A mocking smile curved at the corner of her mouth, her voice loud enough for every guest present to hear clearly: "When Emily was studying in London years ago, she brought back a British mechanic. I thought she would come to her senses in a couple of years, but she actually married this man who has nothing."
A burst of low laughter and whispers immediately rippled through the crowd. Julian, swaying with his wine glass, walked over.
He was a minor young master from a branch of the Dupont family, always trying to climb higher in this massive clan, and trampling me underfoot seemed to be his favorite form of entertainment.
He slapped my shoulder heavily, his tone mocking: "All you can do is fix things. What help could you possibly be for Emily's future career?"
Madame Genevieve then let out a cold snort from the main table, swirling the red wine in her glass, adding sarcastically: "Not being a burden would be good enough. How dare we expect such a person to be of any use."
Emily suddenly stood up, seemingly wanting to say something in my defense, but Madame Genevieve immediately stopped her.
Julian suddenly let out an extremely affected cry of surprise as the wine glass in his hand tilted, spilling precisely onto my chest and the collar of my pure white shirt, dripping down onto the gleaming marble floor.
"Kneel down and wipe the floor clean," Julian pointed at the puddle of red wine on the floor, commanding me with the tone one would use on a stray dog. "Don't dirty the Dupont family's noble floor."
I slowly raised my head to look at him, a flash of killing instinct flickering through my mind.
But I saw the tears nearly bursting from Emily's eyes. She had already endured five years of the family's cold oppression to protect me. I absolutely could not shatter this hard-won peace tonight.
I obediently left my chair and, under countless contemptuous gazes throughout the hall, slowly knelt on one knee, pulling out a handkerchief from my pocket to wipe the red wine from the marble bit by bit.
As the midnight bell tolled, this long and nauseating banquet finally came to an end.
I didn't follow the Dupont family's convoy back to the main residence, but instead went to the garage where I worked.
Old Hawke was counting the day's receipts. Seeing me walk in wearing wine-stained clothes, he silently handed me a can of beer.
As he passed the beer, he lowered his voice to tell me that Madame Genevieve had recently been pressuring Emily to divorce me, trying to force her to remarry the notorious son of the Franklin family's wealthy merchant.
"Arthur, although Emily hasn't explicitly agreed to her mother's arrangement, she also hasn't refused to meet with that man this weekend." His gaze held some regret and pity. "You need to make some plans for your future. The garage's meager salary can't help you much."
I thanked Old Hawke, turned and walked out of the garage doors, heading toward the underground pawn shop. The pawnbroker searched for a long time before pulling out a dust-covered old velvet box.
A ring that looked dull and lusterless lay quietly inside—a silver ring I had personally pawned over five years ago to sever all ties with my past.
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