Why did this feel like a scene straight out of a soap opera? Felicia stood behind Arnold, caught in a tense standoff between two men—one icy and composed, the other visibly seething. The tension was palpable. Despite the gravity of the situation, Felicia found herself amused by the cliché of two men fighting over a woman.

Clearing her throat, she announced, "Gentlemen, enjoy your conversation. I'll be going now." She turned and walked away, unbothered and unapologetic.

Arnold, however, remained rooted, his protective stance unwavering. Facing the other man, he gritted his teeth and demanded, "Who are you?"

The figure before him was undeniably commanding, a paragon of authority and refinement. Though his speech was indifferent, his presence was oppressive, like a predator sizing up its prey. Arnold had faced formidable opponents, but never had he felt such overwhelming danger—not even from Matthew or Mike. Instinctively, he stepped back, sweat trickling down his spine.

Stephan chuckled softly, his disdain sharper than any words. His laugh implied, "You're not worth my time."

Arnold flushed with anger and humiliation. He lunged forward, intending to grab Stephan's collar, but before he could connect, a swift movement sent him sprawling. He landed hard, the air knocked from his lungs.

Arnold groaned, pain radiating through his body. Humiliation surged as he realized how effortlessly he'd been subdued. A polished shoe stopped inches from his face. Stephan loomed, radiating unspoken menace.

Before Stephan could strike again, a frantic voice echoed down the hall. "Stephan! Please spare him!"

Mike, his usually composed demeanor replaced with panic, rushed over. He bowed slightly, saying in an ingratiating tone, "Stephan, I apologize for my nephew's impudence. Please don't hold it against him. If you injure him, I won't know how to explain it to the family!" Stephan shot him a look that could curdle milk. "Keep your nephew in line."

"I promise I will. He'll be properly disciplined!" Mike patted his chest, his voice dripping with sincerity.

After a dismissive glance, Stephan left without another word, his entourage following. The suffocating pressure lifted the moment he was gone. Mike exhaled audibly, wiping sweat from his brow.

Turning to Arnold, Mike scowled. "Get up!"

Arnold climbed to his feet, wincing. His expression was as dark as a storm cloud. Mike snapped, "Stop sulking! Do you have any idea how close you were to getting yourself killed?"

Arnold bristled but remained silent, trying to control his frustration. Who could be powerful enough to make even Mike so cautious? The realization struck him like lightning: Stephan.

"Which Stephan?" Arnold asked, fear creeping into his voice.

Mike shot him a sharp look. "What do you think? If I hadn't arrived when I did, you'd be dead."

For the first time, Arnold's expression changed. In the city, there was only one man powerful enough to inspire such fear: Stephan Russell, head of the legendary Russell family from Seldvale. He was a man who could topple empires with a flick of his wrist, a man whose cruelty and power were matched only by his cunning. Compared to the Russell family's influence, the Lawsons were insignificant.

But why would Stephan have anything to do with Felicia? Rumor had it he despised women and kept everyone at a distance. What exactly was Felicia attempting?