The air inside the VIP room turned heavy—thick enough that even the music vibrating faintly through the walls could not penetrate it.

Yuan Hao sat frozen on the couch, his face still twisted in raw, suffocating fear. His carefully styled hair and expensive tailored suit could not hide the fact that he was trembling.

For the first time in his life and with his guard lying unconscious on the floor, a simple truth hit him:

His money meant nothing here and his family name meant nothing here.

And the boy—no, the young man—standing in front of him stared with the eyes of a predator.

Yuan Hao tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. His heart thumped violently against his ribs, and he could feel a cold sweat breaking across his back.

His mind scrambled in every direction, searching desperately for an escape.

Maybe if he threatened him? No, his guards had be flown like dolls.

Maybe if he invoked his family name? No, Liam didn't even blink at it.

Maybe if he offered money? No, Liam was beyond money.

Every solution burned away instantly, leaving him with nothing.

Nothing.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

He glanced at Isabella—the woman whose rejection had started this entire situation—and then at the guards groaning on the ground.

His thoughts spiraled until something clicked abruptly in his mind.

The face. He felt that he has seen it somewhere before.

His alcohol-fogged mind struggled, burning through every memory until something flashed and he remembered where.

It was from the news headline of the world's first private A380, owned by a teenage billionaire that broke the internet a week ago.

This was the face that was plastered across every social platform.

Yuan Hao's pupils shrank violently.

No. No, no, no… it can't be—

His memories rushed in clearer now and he remembered his father calling him and his siblings to an emergency meeting, and sounding a warning to them in a solemn tone.

"Do not offend Liam Scott. Do not provoke him. And never—ever—attempt to dig into his background."

All the top families had tried anyway but nothing more than the ordinary came up.

Nothing.

For someone with that much wealth, with that kind of aircraft, with that level of capability, how was there NO information?

Not one document, not one leak, not one trail.

It was evident that everything was protected by something stronger than money.

And now that face—that face—was right in front of him, radiating a calm danger that made his blood run cold.

His jaw trembled as he finally whispered the words:

"I… I sincerely apologize, Mr. Liam Scott. I— I didn't recognize you. Please… forgive me."

Liam blinked lazily, unimpressed, as a cold scoff left his lips.

"Oh, now you recognize me," he murmured.

He knew that if he had been anyone else—literally anyone else—Isabella would have been dragged here, forced to drink, humiliated or worse, and the guy defending her would be lying on the floor with shattered bones.

Yuan Hao's family would have covered it up in a day. The police would have bowed. The club would have played dumb. And life would move on.

Yuan Hao felt his heart plummet when he heard Liam's scoff.

Liam leaned closer, and the pressure on Yuan Hao's shoulder increased subtly—yet enough to make him feel like a mountain had settled on him. A sharp and unrelenting pain shot through his nerves.

Yuan Hao's lips quivered and he forced another apology out.

"I—I'm sorry! Truly, I— I mean no disrespect—"

But the moment he stuttered, the pressure grew stronger, making him gasp.

Liam's smile sharpened in a cold and sinister smile.

"You're apologizing to the wrong person," Liam said softly.

Yuan Hao froze again, then followed Liam's gaze toward Isabella.

She looked overwhelmed—hands trembling, breaths shallow, eyes wide. She couldn't believe any of this.

Yuan Hao understood the message instantly. He turned to Isabella so fast he nearly fell off the couch.

"S–Sorry! I am so, so sorry, miss!" He apologized sincerely and bowed his head deeply.

"Sincere apology means kneeling. Knowtow three times to show your sincerity," Liam said, his voice cutting through like blade.

Yuan Hao's throat closed up.

This was humiliation. This was losing face. This was something unforgivable in the world he came from.

But he didn't even hesitate, as he immediately dropped to his knees.

And then, his head hit the ground repeatedly as he knowtowed three times.

THUD!!!

His forehead reddened with each strike, the pain blooming across his skull.

"Please forgive me. I will never disrespect you again… ever," He whispered with a shaking voice.

Isabella stared, stunned. She had never—ever—imagined something like this would happen in her life.

Liam turned to her and asked calmly:

"Is his apology enough?"

His tone made the hairs on her arms rise.

"Y–Yes!" she said quickly. "It's enough. He—he apologized. I forgive him."

"Good," Liam nodded.

He gestured at the couch. "Get up."

Yuan Hao practically scrambled into the chair, sitting stiff and trembling.

Liam stepped closer, his expression returning to that unreadable calm.

"If anything happens to her," he said quietly, "whether you are directly or indirectly involved… your entire family will answer for it."

Color drained from Yuan Hao's face.

Liam continued, letting each word fall like a hammer:

"And if I hear about any more incidents of girls being forced to drink, being dragged against their will in Macau, in Beijing, in Singapore, or in Hong Kong… I'll come for you."

The room turned to ice.

Even Isabella felt the weight of the threat, though it wasn't meant for her.

Yuan Hao's lips trembled.

"That—That's unreasonable," he whispered before he could stop himself.

Liam's hand landed on his shoulder again and all air left Yuan Hao's lungs.

His bones felt like glass under pressure.

"I'm unreasonable?" Liam asked.

"No. No. No. I was wrong," Yuan Hao replied immediately.

"Good. Now, which arm do you want broken?" Liam asked.

Yuan Hao's eyes bulged and his lips parted in disbelief.

But the moment Liam's fingers tightened just a little.

"L—Left! My left arm!" he gasped.

Liam nodded in appreciation, grabbed Yuan Hao's hand and added a bit of pressure, and broke it cleanly.

CRACK.

The sound was sickening.

Yuan Hao screamed, letting out a raw, animalistic sound.

But Liam didn't pay attention to him, as he lifted one foot casually and broke both of Yuan Hao's legs.

CRACK.

CRACK.

Isabella flinched violently, covering her mouth.

To her shock, Liam didn't even look at Yuan Hao again. He simply turned to her with a gentle smile, as if the screams behind him belonged to a stranger in another world.

"Let's go."

She nodded, voice lost somewhere in her throat.

They stepped toward the door. Isabella felt every beat of her heart pounding against her ribs. Her mind still couldn't process what she had witnessed.

Yuan Hao was groaning quietly behind them, clutching his broken limbs.

The dancers hid in corners, too afraid to breathe.

The guards lay unconscious near the wall.

Isabella still couldn't process what had just happened. Her thoughts were a tangled blur of fear, disbelief, shock, and something she couldn't quite name. But one thing she knew for certain is that she could never speak of this night to anyone.

Not even to a friend, a coworker, a stranger or even years later, as a drunken story.

Some things were better buried.

She glanced at Liam beside her. His hands were tucked calmly in his pockets, his expression relaxed, a small unbothered smile on his face—as if he had not just shattered the arrogance of a billionaire heir and broken his limbs without lifting more than a finger.

Only then did it fully settle into place.

After hearing Yuan Hao say his name… she realized who he really was.

Liam Scott. The boy the entire world was obsessed with and the mystery behind the private A380.

And she—she had danced with him, joked with him, drank with him, held his hand and he had protected her.

Her heartbeat quickened again when she thought how they had danced.

Maybe he wasn't joking when he said even the President of the United States couldn't threaten him.

Her lips curved into a small smile at the memory.

Then came the question she couldn't shake:

How do you thank someone like that?

What could she possibly say or do that would match what he had done for her tonight?

In the end, she settled on the simplest truth.

"Thank you," she said quietly, sincerely.

"It's nothing," Liam said, looking at her with a reassuring look.

He tilted his head slightly. "Do you want to continue your night? Or should I take you home?"

She didn't even need to think.

There was no staying in the club after what happened—not just because of the danger, but because the mood, the desire to have fun, the carefree energy… all of it had left her.

"Home," she said with a small, tired smile. "I think it's better if I go home."

Liam nodded. "Alright. I'll have someone pick you up."

Relief washed across her face. "Thank you… again."

They walked back toward the bar. Before they even reached it, three men were already waiting—two guards and the East Asia branch manager from Liam's family office.

Clearly, Liam had called them the moment they started walking.

All three bowed slightly when they saw him.

"Sir."

Liam returned the nod casually.

The branch manager stepped forward to Isabella. "Miss, we'll take you home safely."

Isabella nodded, still overwhelmed. She took a few steps with them before pausing to look back at Liam.

"Really… thank you," she said once more, her voice soft and full of sincerity.

"You're welcome. Get home safe," Liam gave a small wave and an easy smile.

She was escorted out of the club, still unable to believe everything that has happened.

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