Bound By The Legacy Pact: My Protector

Bound By The Legacy Pact: My Protector

Fonz Nadherny

5.0
Comment(s)
15
View
150
Chapters

The crystal chandeliers of the Plaza Hotel screamed money, framing the wedding of Chelsea Grimes and Julian Davidson as the ultimate corporate merger. But as the officiant prepared to unite two of the city's most powerful dynasties, the heavy double doors didn't just open-they exploded inward. Gideon Combs stood in the wreckage, a man in a frayed trench coat and grime-caked boots, looking like a stain on a pristine canvas. He wasn't there to object; he was there to enforce a "Legacy Pact," coldly informing the bride that her debt to a dead man hadn't been fulfilled and she didn't get to walk away. In seconds, the ballroom turned into a butchery as Gideon dismantled elite bodyguards with nothing but a broken wine bottle, eventually sending the groom flying into a tower of shattering champagne glass. When the military arrived, the room expected a firing squad, but instead, a four-star General snapped a sharp salute to the "vagrant," calling him a national asset. My family, the Singletons, saw this as a threat rather than a salvation; when I chose to stand by Gideon, my own grandmother stripped me of my keys, my cards, and my inheritance, casting me out into the pouring rain. I couldn't wrap my head around why the world's most powerful men trembled at the mention of Gideon's mentor, or what secret was etched into the black iron ring on his finger. I had traded my billionaire lifestyle for a man who looked like a drifter but fought like a god, and I had no idea if he was my protector or my ultimate ruin. As we stood on the sidewalk with nothing but twelve dollars and the clothes on our backs, Gideon's phone buzzed with a half-million-dollar bounty already active on the dark web. He didn't flinch; he just looked at the shadows closing in and whispered. "Game on."

Chapter 1 1

The crystal chandeliers of the Plaza Hotel's Grand Ballroom didn't just shine. They screamed money.

Hundreds of tiny, prismed lights reflected off diamond necklaces and the sweaty foreheads of nervous waiters. The air smelled of expensive champagne, heavy perfume, and the specific, metallic scent of desperation that always hung around the Grimes family.

Chelsea Grimes stood center stage. Her dress was a custom Vera Wang, white silk that probably cost more than a mid-sized sedan. Her smile was perfect. It was the kind of smile you practiced in a mirror for hours until your cheek muscles spasmed.

Julian Davidson had his hand on the small of her back. He wasn't holding her. He was claiming her. He looked out at the sea of faces-senators, hedge fund managers, tech moguls-and soaked it in. This wasn't a wedding. It was a merger acquisition with cake.

The officiant cleared his throat. He was about to announce the union of the Grimes and Davidson dynasties.

Boom.

The heavy double doors at the back of the ballroom didn't open. They exploded inward.

The sound was like a gunshot in a library. The heavy oak slammed against the stoppers with a violence that made the floor vibrate.

The music cut out. The chatter died. Three hundred heads turned in unison.

Gideon Combs stood in the doorway.

He was a stain on a pristine canvas. He wore a black trench coat that had seen too much rain and too much dirt. The hem was frayed. His boots were heavy, combat-issued, and caked with the grime of the city streets.

A security guard, a man the size of a vending machine, stepped into his path. Gideon didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He just turned his head slightly. His eyes were dead. There was no anger in them, no fire. Just a cold, flat nothingness that promised violence.

The guard took a half-step back. It was a primal reaction, the lizard brain recognizing a predator.

Gideon walked in.

His boots hit the marble floor with a heavy, rhythmic thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. It was the sound of a clock counting down.

On the stage, Chelsea's perfect smile shattered. Her skin went the color of old paper. The champagne flute in her hand started to tremble, sending tiny ripples through the golden liquid.

Julian frowned. He leaned in close to her ear.

"Do you know this bum?" Julian asked.

Chelsea opened her mouth. Her throat worked, but no sound came out. She looked like she was choking on air.

Gideon kept walking. The crowd parted. People pulled their expensive fabrics back, terrified that his poverty might be contagious. Or maybe they just sensed the kinetic energy rolling off him.

Marcus Grimes, Chelsea's father, broke the paralysis. He shoved his way through a cluster of guests. His face was purple.

"What is the meaning of this?" Marcus roared. "Security! Why is this trash inside?"

Gideon didn't look at Marcus. He didn't look at the guests. His eyes were locked on Chelsea like a laser sight.

He stopped at the base of the stage. He looked up.

"Chelsea," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a razor blade. "The contract hasn't been fulfilled. You don't get to walk away."

A ripple of whispers went through the room.

Julian laughed. It was a sharp, barking sound. He let go of Chelsea and stepped to the edge of the stage, looking down at Gideon.

"You must be the help," Julian sneered. "Or the mistake. Get him out of here."

Julian waved his hand. It was a dismissive gesture, something you did to a fly.

Two of the Davidson family bodyguards moved in. They were professionals. Big suits, earpieces, dead eyes. They reached for Gideon's shoulders simultaneously.

Gideon didn't turn around.

His left hand shot up. He caught the first bodyguard's wrist.

Snap.

The sound of the bone breaking was louder than the music had been. The bodyguard dropped to his knees, a high-pitched wheeze escaping his lips.

The second bodyguard threw a punch. It was a haymaker, designed to knock a man unconscious.

Gideon wasn't there anymore. He side-stepped. The movement was a blur, too fast for the eye to track properly. He was behind the man before the punch even fully extended.

Gideon kicked the back of the man's knee. The joint buckled. The man went down. Gideon stepped on his spine, pinning him to the marble.

Julian stared. His mouth hung open. He took off his tuxedo jacket. He loosened his tie. He had a black belt in Taekwondo that he'd bought with his father's money, and he was eager to use it.

He jumped off the stage.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson," Julian said. He raised his leg for a roundhouse kick.

Gideon didn't blink. He watched the leg come up. It was slow. Sloppy. Telegraphed.

Gideon stepped inside the guard. He lifted his boot and drove a front kick straight into Julian's chest.

The impact lifted Julian off his feet. He flew backward, airborne for a full second.

He crashed into the champagne tower behind him.

Glass exploded. Hundreds of crystal flutes shattered at once. Champagne sprayed into the air like a geyser. Julian landed in the wreckage, gasping, covered in shards and alcohol.

The room went silent again. The only sound was the dripping of champagne and Julian's wet, ragged breathing.

Gideon adjusted his collar. He looked at Chelsea. She was shaking so hard her veil was vibrating.

"Now," Gideon said calmly. "Can we talk about the Legacy Pact?"

Continue Reading

Other books by Fonz Nadherny

More
His Annoyance, My Awakening

His Annoyance, My Awakening

Horror

5.0

The last thing I remembered was the grinding sound of machinery, a symphony of six years in our small town, now a city death knell. My children, Lily and Tom, were so excited to visit their father Michael' s new, successful factory. "They've missed Michael so much, Ava. Let them go see him. He's just inside." Sarah, Michael's brother's widow, whispered, her arm around my shoulder, her voice a sweet poison. I watched them run ahead, their small figures disappearing through the massive doorway, believing their father was building a better life for us. They didn' t know the truth: Michael had left us for Sarah, taking our factory severance pay to build his new life with her and her children. Then I saw Sarah' s real smile-sharp, cold. She pushed an unsecured metal cart. A klaxon blared. Two screams, cut short by a sickening crunch, a spray of red. My world ended. Michael stood over me, his face filled with chilling annoyance, not grief. "Well, that's that, then," he said, flatly. "Saves me the trouble and expense of a divorce, I guess." He glanced at the machinery. "They were just baggage anyway, Ava. Holding me back." His words annihilated my soul, a physical force squeezing the breath from me. The world turned gray, then black. I died on that cold, greasy floor. And then, I gasped. I was in my cramped bedroom, sunlight filtering through the grimy window. A calendar on the wall marked the day the factory closed. Lily and Tom sat on the rug, whole and alive. "Mommy?" Lily asked, her big brown eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" Tears streamed down my face. I clung to them, inhaling their scent. I was back. The memory of their deaths, of Michael's monstrous words, was burned into my mind. Grief remained, a hot knot of agony, but something cold, hard, and sharp solidified beside it. Revenge. Michael. Sarah. You will pay. I will tear down your world, piece by piece, and I will make you feel every ounce of the agony you gave me. This was not a second chance at happiness. It was a second chance at justice.

His Blame, Her Liberation

His Blame, Her Liberation

Romance

5.0

The stench of stale beer and sweat hung heavy at the post-game party, a ghost from a life I thought was behind me. I stood in a quiet corner, trying to disappear as the music vibrated through the floor. My ex-boyfriend Liam' s best friend, Kevin, suddenly plowed through the crowd, his face stark with raw panic. "Ava! You have to help. They took him!" he screamed, his words a horrifying echo of a past I' d desperately tried to escape. He begged me to rescue Liam from the black van, reminding me of all the "stuff" my dad taught me. But in my first life, answering that call plunged me into a thirty-year nightmare: a soul-crushing marriage to a man who resented me, a daughter who mirrored his coldness, and ultimately, a lonely death while they escaped. This time, I just told him to call the police. Liam' s heroic football career ended that night with a shattered leg and a lost scholarship, and I became the town's despised "ice queen." When he, also reborn, confronted me, his fury was absolute – blaming me for every consequence of my choice to save myself. And his toxic girlfriend, Jess, ensured his family's utter ruin, leading to his mother's heart attack. How could I be the villain for choosing to live, for refusing to be dragged back into a miserable existence by the very man who once condemned me to a lonely death? The sheer entitlement of his blame, even after he remembered our shared, horrible future, made my blood run cold. Was I truly bound to others' expectations, forever a cage to myself? But when a broken, desperate Liam finally appeared on my doorstep, not asking for himself, but tearfully begging me to save his innocent parents from Jess' s destructive spiral, I knew my past wouldn't fully release me until I severed the deepest, most toxic ties – even if it meant one last, dangerous confrontation to finally claim my own peace and freedom.

When Love Kills, And Then Reborns

When Love Kills, And Then Reborns

Billionaires

5.0

I was a successful Silicon Valley mogul, a man of immense wealth and, as it turned out, even greater naivety, deeply in love with my beautiful fiancée, Ava. Our meticulously planned future seemed perfect until tragedy allegedly struck: Ava "died" in a devastating rock-climbing accident, leaving my world utterly shattered and adrift. For years, in my grief, I poured millions of dollars into commemorative foundations and generously supported her "grieving sisters," Chloe and Zoe, genuinely mourning a love I believed was tragically lost. Then came the crushing blow: I stumbled upon her in Monaco – radiant, laughing, and shockingly alive on Liam Knight’s arm, their children by their side, oblivious to my existence. They were living a lavish life, funded entirely by the immense fortune I had unknowingly gifted them through her fabricated death, a calculated deception that bled me dry for years. The sheer shock of this colossal betrayal, the agonizing realization of decades of meticulously planned deceit perpetrated by those I trusted most, was so profound it literally stopped my heart. My previous life, built on a foundation of love and trust, crumbled to ash as I felt the ultimate sting of idiocy and a crushing, all-consuming fury that burned hotter than any pain. But death wasn't the end for me; it was merely a reset. I snapped awake in the familiar luxury of my sprawling Silicon Valley mansion, the annoying beep of my alarm no longer a nuisance, but a powerful clarion call. It was the precise morning Ava was supposed to 'die,' the very day that had marked the agonizing origin of all my past life's misery and betrayal. This time, however, I wasn't the heartbroken, unsuspecting fiancé anymore. I was reborn, armed with every single painful memory and a cold, unyielding resolve, and my objective was terrifyingly clear: meticulously reclaim everything they stole, and ruthlessly expose every single viper who dared to prey on my trust.

You'll also like

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

SHANA GRAY
4.5

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book