Return of the Crowned Heiress (Felicia)

Why did this feel like a scene straight out of a soap opera?C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

Felicia stood behind Arnold, who was now caught in the middle of what could only be described as a standoff. The two men stared each other down, one icy and composed, the other visibly seething. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Despite the gravity of the situation, Felicia found her thoughts wandering to the cliché plot of two men fighting over the same woman. It was absurdly amusing.

Clearing her throat, she decided she wanted no part in this drama. "Gentlemen, enjoy your conversation. I'll be going now."

Without hesitation, she turned and began to walk away, looking unbothered and unapologetic.

Arnold, however, stayed firmly rooted, his protective stance unwavering. Facing the man before him, he gritted his teeth and demanded, "Who are you?"

The figure before him was undeniably commanding, a paragon of authority and refinement. Though he spoke indifferently, his display was oppressive, like a predator eyeing prey.

Arnold had faced formidable opponents before, but never had he felt such an overwhelming sense of danger-not from Matthew or Mike. Instinctively, he took a step back, sweat trickling down his spine.

Stephan chuckled softly, his disdain cutting deeper than any words. His laugh seemed to say, "You're not worth my time."

Arnold flushed with anger, feeling humiliated and indignant. His fists clenched as he took a bold step forward, intending to grab Stephan's collar. But before he could touch him, a sharp motion sent Arnold spinning. The next moment, he was flat on his back with the air knocked out of his lungs.

Arnold groaned, the hard floor unforgiving against his back. Pain radiated through his body, and humiliation surged as he realized how effortlessly he'd been subdued.

A polished shoe stepped forward, stopping inches from Arnold's face. Stephan loomed above him, radiating an unspoken threat.

Before Stephen could deliver a finishing blow, a frantic voice echoed down the hall.

"Stephan! Please spare him!"

The interruption came from Mike, who hurried over. His usually composed demeanor was replaced with barely concealed panic.

Panting, Mike reached the scene and immediately lowered his head slightly. He said 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 freeze fire. "Keep your nephew in line."

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

After one last dismissive glance, Stephan turned and left without another word, his entourage following close behind.

The suffocating pressure that had filled the hallway lifted the moment he was gone. Mike exhaled audibly, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.

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

Arnold climbed to his feet, wincing as pain shot through his back. His expression was as dark as a storm cloud, and he ground his teeth audibly in frustration.

Seeing his expression, Mike snapped, "Stop sulking! Do you have any idea how close you were to getting yourself killed?"

Arnold bristled but said nothing. He took a deep breath, trying to swallow his frustration. Who could possibly be powerful enough to make even Mike tread so carefully? The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning as he recalled the name Mike had shouted earlier-Stephan.

"Which Stephan?" Arnold asked, a flicker of fear creeping into his voice. Could it really be...

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

For the first time, Arnold's expression shifted.

In the city, there was only one man powerful enough to make everyone tremble at the mere mention of his name Stephan Russell. He was the feared head of the legendary Russell family from Seldvale.

Stephan was the kind of man who controlled the game with a flick of his fingers, someone who could bring empires to their knees without breaking a sweat. His reputation was ruthless—a man whose cruelty and power were matched only by his cunningness.

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Compared to the Russell family's influence, the Lawsons, with all their local prestige, were nothing more than a small-town dynasty. In Stephan's eyes, they were ants insignificant and easily crushed.

But why would someone like Stephen have anything to do with Felicia?

Rumor had it that Stephan was a man who despised being near women, someone who wouldn't let anyone close. What exactly was Felicia trying to do?