The grand mahogany doors of the Newport estate were guarded by two men who looked more like boulders in suits than human beings. They were "Clan Enforcers," trained to spot anyone who didn't belong to the top three tiers of the US hierarchy.
"I told you, girl," the larger guard sneered, his hand resting on his holster. "This is a Royal-tier event. You don't have an invite, and you definitely don't have the pedigree. Go back to the farm before I have you arrested for trespassing."
Elena stood her ground, though her fingers trembled as she clutched the strap of her faded bag. Her skin was unusually pale—almost translucent—and a faint mist seemed to cling to her breath despite the summer heat.
"I'm not here to party," she said, her voice like cracking ice. "I'm looking for my father. He told me I would find answers here."
"Your father?" The guard laughed, a harsh sound that drew eyes from the arriving guests. "Unless your father is a Duke or a CEO, the only answer you're getting is the back of a police cruiser."
He reached out to grab her arm, but his hand froze mid-air. It wasn't a metaphor. A sudden, bone-chilling cold radiated from Elena's skin, causing a thin layer of frost to bloom across the guard's sleeve. He yelped, pulling back as if burned.
"Touch her again," a calm, low voice vibrated from the shadows, "and you'll lose the hand."
Arthur stepped into the light of the stone archway. He looked unremarkable in his off-the-rack suit, but the way he walked—steady, rhythmic, and utterly unafraid—made the guards hesitate.
"Arthur?" Elena turned, her eyes wide. "You... you're that guy from the library."
"I am," Arthur said, stopping beside her. The "Yang" fire in his blood roared to life the moment he stepped within three feet of her. For 200 years, he had felt a constant, dull heat beneath his skin, a curse of his immortality. But standing next to her was like stepping into a cool spring. The Yin-Ice body, he thought. The legends were true.
"Back off, Sterling," the guard snapped, recognizing the "Trash Second Master." "Your family barely made the guest list this year. Don't make it worse by bringing in a vagrant."
Arthur didn't argue. He didn't shout. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a black card. It wasn't plastic; it was carved from a single piece of obsidian, with a faint, silver dragon etched into the center.
The guard's face went from arrogant to ghostly white in three seconds. He didn't just recognize the card; he recognized the authority it represented. That wasn't a Sterling family card. That was a Shadow Group Sovereign Pass. There were only three in existence.
"Is this 'pedigree' enough?" Arthur asked softly.
The guard began to stammer, his knees literally shaking. "S-sir... I didn't... the system said she was—"
"The system is wrong," Arthur interrupted. He turned to Elena, offering his arm. "She is with me. And if I hear that you breathed in her direction again, I'll buy this estate just to fire you personally."
Elena hesitated, then placed her small, cold hand on his sleeve. The moment they touched, a visible shockwave of energy—unseen by the mortals around them—rippled through the air. Arthur felt his internal temperature stabilize for the first time in a century.
"Why are you helping me?" she whispered as he led her past the now-bowing guards and into the glittering ballroom.
"Because," Arthur said, his eyes scanning the room for his brother and father, "you're the only person in this room who isn't a fake. And because tonight, I'm going to need a witness when I end my family's delusions."
Across the room, Julian Sterling was mid-laugh, holding a champagne flute and bragging to a Canadian Prince about a shipping deal that was already dead. He hadn't noticed his "trash" brother enter. He hadn't noticed that the music was about to stop.
Arthur looked at his watch. Three... two... one.
The massive digital stock ticker in the center of the ballroom—a tradition at these corporate galas—flashed bright red. The Sterling Shipping Group (SSG) symbols began to plummet.
SSG: -15%... -28%... -42%...
The laughter in the room died instantly. Panic, cold and sharp, began to spread through the elite. Arthur leaned down to Elena's ear.
"Watch closely," he whispered. "This is how an empire falls. And in five minutes, I'll show you how one is built."