Marc Family

In the United States, five hyper-wealthy families held absolute dominion over the nation's wealth, resources, and politics. The Power family controlled the vast financial networks of the West Region. The Jones family ruled the trade routes and shipping industries of the South Region. The Bush family commanded the agricultural and industrial heartlands of the Midwest Region. The Diamond family held an iron grip over the luxury and mining sectors of the Northeast Region.

And finally, seated above them all, was the Marc family. They were not merely the richest family in the United States; with a net worth surpassing 998 trillion dollars, they were the most powerful dynasty in human history, exercising silent authority over the entire country.

For nine long years, the crown of the Marc empire had sat vacant. Ever since the tragic and mysterious death of his parents, Daniel Marc, the sole heir to the Marc family dynasty, had lived in self-imposed exile abroad. But today, the prodigal master was finally coming home.

At the international arrival terminal of the airport, the air was thick with tension. Outside the glass doors, a modest, yellow city cab pulled up to the curb. Daniel Marc walked out into the chilly breeze, wearing a tailored black coat, holding a simple umbrella, and carrying a worn leather duffel bag. His uncle, Mr. Thomas, had insisted on sending an entire fleet of armored vehicles to receive him, but Daniel had explicitly refused. He wanted his return to be silent. He wanted to observe the city from the shadows before stepping back onto the throne.

As Daniel walked calmly toward the waiting taxi, a sudden commotion broke the quiet atmosphere of the terminal.

"Get back here, you bitch!" a man shouted.

A young woman sprinted past Daniel, her hair disheveled, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Half a second behind her, a heavily built man in an expensive designer suit tore through the crowd in hot pursuit. In his wild rush, the pursuer slammed violently into Daniel, knocking the leather duffel bag straight out of his hand onto the dirty pavement.

The man did not even slow down to apologize. A few meters away, he caught up to the running woman, snatched her by the back of her hair, and violently yanked her backward. She screamed in pain as he dragged her across the concrete.

Daniel stood motionless for a split second, looking down at his dust-covered bag on the ground, and then at the brutal assault unfolding ahead. Calmly, he closed the distance between them. Without uttering a word, Daniel swung his heavy black umbrella, striking the man's wrist with calculated precision.

The impact cracked like a whip. The attacker bellowed in pain, instinctively loosening his grip and letting go of the woman's hair. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing and clutching her scalp.

The attacker whirled around, his face flushed red with rage. "Are you out of your mind?!" he roared, holding his bruised wrist. "Do you have any idea who I am? You're going to apologize to me right now on your knees, or I'll have you buried alive!"

Daniel did not flinch. His icy gaze remained completely unbothered as he pointed the tip of his umbrella toward the dirty pavement behind them. "Pick up my bag."

The man stared at Daniel in utter disbelief, letting out a harsh, arrogant laugh. "Pick up your bag? You want me-the second son of the Power family-to pick up your trash?"

Daniel tilted his head slightly, a cold, knowing smile touching the corner of his lips. "Oh. You must be the arrogant Aemond Power. I've heard so much about you."

Aemond's eyes narrowed into slits. Before he could speak, seven heavily armed bodyguards in dark suits swarmed out from the terminal doors, encircling Daniel from all sides.

"Break his legs," Aemond ordered coldly, stepping back with his arms crossed. "Teach this peasant what happens when you cross a Power."

The seven bodyguards lunged forward simultaneously. But Daniel did not panic.

As the first guard threw a heavy right hook, Daniel ducked beneath the arm, sidestepped smoothly, and drove the steel end of his umbrella straight into the man's solar plexus. The guard gasped for air and collapsed. Daniel pivoted, catching the second attacker with a sharp elbow to the jaw, followed by a swift back-kick that sent a third guard crashing through a glass display case.

Within two agonizing minutes, the air was filled with the groans of defeated men. All seven security guards were lying on the floor, unconscious or writhing in pain.

Aemond's face turned deathly pale. His arrogant smile vanished, replaced by sheer terror. Seeing the cold, unyielding look in Daniel's eyes as he stepped over the bodyguards, Aemond turned on his heel and fled toward a waiting vehicle without looking back.

Daniel calmly walked over, picked up his leather bag, and dusted it off. He then walked over to the young woman still trembling on the ground. He extended a hand.

"What's your name?" Daniel asked softly.

She looked up, her tear-stained face revealing striking, noble features. "Stacy... Stacy Diamond," she whispered, taking his hand to stand up.

How interesting, Daniel thought to himself, his mind racing beneath a calm exterior. The Power family-the very bloodline responsible for destroying my parents nine years ago-is now openly tormenting the daughter of the Diamond family. I am going to love this show.

Before Daniel could process the thought further, Stacy broke the silence. "Thank you... thank you for saving me. But you need to leave. They will come back for you." She pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from her purse-at least a thousand dollars-and forced it into Daniel's hand. "Take this and get out of the city. I have to go."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the airport crowd.

Daniel looked down at the money in his hand, then turned around to head toward his cab. But the street was empty. Seeing a stranger single-handedly beat up the security team of the ruthless Power family, the terrified taxi driver had put his foot on the gas and fled the scene to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Shaking his head, Daniel pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Uncle Thomas," Daniel said calmly into the receiver. "Send a driver to the airport. The cab I booked left."

"Right away, Master Daniel," the elderly voice on the other end answered with deep respect. "Robbert and Mrs. Faith are already on their way."

The call ended. Daniel stood alone on the curb, waiting near the quiet terminal.

Less than five minutes passed before the peaceful quiet was shattered by the roar of heavy engines. Two jet-black Rolls-Royces flanked by four massive dark SUVs screeched to a halt, blocking the entire street.

The doors slammed open. Aemond Power stepped out, a vicious smirk on his face. Beside him stood his older brother, Ethan Power-the ruthlessly calculating eldest heir of the Power dynasty. Behind them stood an army of twenty heavily armed, elite mercenary guards.

"That's him, Ethan!" Aemond yelled, pointing a finger at Daniel. "That's the bastard who touched me!"

Ethan Power stepped forward, his eyes cold and lifeless. He didn't ask questions. He didn't demand an explanation. He simply raised his hand and gestured toward Daniel.

"Beat him until he can't walk," Ethan commanded.

The twenty guards surged forward like a wave of steel. Daniel moved instantly, ducking beneath a swing and disarming the lead mercenary. He fought viciously, his movements precise and deadly. One guard went down with a shattered knee; another fell as Daniel slammed his head against the concrete. He managed to incapacitate five guards in rapid succession, but the sheer volume of overwhelming force was too much.

A heavy iron baton struck Daniel across his back, knocking him to his knees. Before he could recover, three guards pinned his arms, while another struck him brutally in the ribs. Daniel coughed up blood as he was slammed hard onto the cold asphalt.

Ethan Power slowly walked over, standing over Daniel's bruised and bleeding body. He leaned down, his voice a chilling whisper. "Consider this a gentle warning, trash. Welcome to our city."

Ethan and Aemond turned around, stepped back into their luxury convoy, and sped away into the afternoon traffic, leaving Daniel lying broken on the pavement.

A minute later, two executive sedans pulled up to the curb at high speed. Robbert, the chief driver, and Mrs. Faith, Daniel's personal assistant, rushed out of the lead vehicle alongside four Marc family bodyguards.

"Master Daniel!" Mrs. Faith screamed in horror, dropping her tablet as she saw the young master covered in blood on the ground.

"Quickly! Get him into the car! Call the medical team at the Marc Private Hospital right now!" Robbert bellowed, carefully lifting Daniel's battered frame into the back seat.

As the vehicle tore through the city streets toward the hospital, sirens blaring, Mrs. Faith knelt beside Daniel, desperately pressing a cloth to his bleeding head.

Through blurred vision and fading consciousness, Daniel stared up at the roof of the car. The pain in his body was excruciating, but beneath the blood, a dark, terrifying flame flickered in his eyes. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He simply let out a low, breathless laugh that sent a shiver down Mrs. Faith's spine.

Ethan Power... Aemond Power... Daniel thought as darkness slowly pulled him under. You have no idea whose blood you just spilled today.