Chapter 45: Aftermath & Trouble
Marcus’s mind raced as he stood there, dripping with wine and food, his spiritual energy fluctuating wildly. Someone had done this to him. Someone had deliberately sabotaged the beam, the floor—everything. His eyes swept the crowd with predatory intensity, searching for any sign of guilt, any hint of satisfaction that might reveal the culprit.
But the crowd’s reaction was not what he expected.
"Is he seriously going to blame someone else for this?" a guest whispered, barely containing their laughter.
"Tsk Tsk pathetic bastard can’t just accept that he simply failed," another added with a shake of their head.
"How embarrassing. First he falls, then he tries to shift the blame."
The murmurs spread through the ballroom like wildfire. Marcus could hear every word, and each one was like a dagger to his already wounded pride. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the overwhelming rage that threatened to consume him entirely.
"Didn’t you see that? Don’t you understand," Marcus said through gritted teeth, his voice strangely audible but carrying a dangerous edge. He was very close to lose it all. "Someone—"
"Marcus, that’s enough."
The voice cut through his building fury like a blade. Celia had appeared beside him, her expression a mixture of disappointment and exhaustion. Her elegant blue dress seemed to shimmer under the ballroom lights, making her look like a bewitching angel of mercy in this moment of chaos.
"We are going back," she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.
Vincent, watching from across the room, clicked his tongue in annoyance. Even in this moment of complete humiliation, Celia’s timing was perfect. She had saved Marcus from what would have been an even more catastrophic outburst.
"Miss Celia, you have to listen to me," Marcus said, his voice cracking with desperation as he struggled to hold back his rage. "The beam was tampered with. Someone put something on it—lubricant, oil, something. And the floor too. This wasn’t an accident."