The metal elevator doors slammed shut with a hollow clang.
Inside the cramped compartment, the air felt suffocating.
Lily pressed herself against Ethan's leg, her tiny fingers clutching his faded jeans like lifelines. She didn't dare look up. That woman with the heavy makeup had eyes like razors, cutting and cruel.
"Daddy..." Lily's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear. "Who is that lady? She looks at me like... like I'm a rat in a garbage pile."
A five-year-old couldn't understand hatred. But she could read malice in every glance.
Ethan's heart skipped a beat. He crouched down, covering his daughter's ears with his large hands, shielding her from the world's cruelty with his warmth.
"She's nobody," Ethan said, watching the red floor numbers climb. His voice was calm, almost eerily so. "Just a wicked witch."
"Oh..." Lily nodded obediently, burying her face against her father's leg. "Lily won't look at the witch. Witches eat little children."
Beside them, Vivian Chase was touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror. At those words, her hand jerked, leaving a garish red streak across her cheek.
"Ethan Blackwell! What are you teaching that little bastard?!" Vivian whirled around, her features twisted with rage. Thick foundation cracked and flaked with her expression. "Who are you calling a witch? If I hadn't run when I did, I'd be begging on the streets with you two!"
"Shut up."
Two words. That's all Ethan said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the chill of colliding icebergs—a cold that seeped into bones and froze blood.
Vivian opened her mouth, then closed it. Something in his eyes made her forget how to speak.
*Ding.*
Top floor.
Ethan ignored the couple and carried Lily out of the elevator. Ahead lay the famous Panorama Restaurant, its massive floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city's nightscape flowing like liquid gold.
Of all the rotten luck.
Vivian and her rich boyfriend Tyler Zhao had rushed ahead, blocking the ornate mahogany doors with their bodies.
Tyler adjusted his gaudy white suit, his gaze sweeping over Ethan's $9.99 t-shirt with obvious disdain. He snorted with laughter.
"Well, well. The fallen prince still thinks he belongs here." Tyler pointed toward the emergency stairwell. "Delivery entrance is that way. This is members-only. Even the air costs money—one breath would bankrupt you."
Vivian's disgust was even more pronounced. She spotted the grimy plastic bag in Lily's hands, a rusted bottle cap peeking from the opening.
"Bringing a little trash-picker to a place like this. Absolutely revolting." Vivian raised her stiletto, aiming a vicious kick at Lily's hands. "Get away from me! Don't spread your germs!"
*Thud.*
Lily instinctively recoiled. The plastic bag went flying.
*Clatter—*
Countless coins exploded across the marble floor like scattered stars. Some rolled into carpet crevices, others pinged against marble columns in a symphony of desperation.
Two dollars and fifty cents.
Lily's "fortune"—three months of following Daddy's cart through blizzards, digging through dumpsters, collecting hope one coin at a time.
"My money..." Lily stared in shock for a heartbeat, then released a soul-shattering wail.
She threw herself onto the cold floor, frantically grabbing at the dust-covered coins. "Don't run away... please don't run... that's to save Daddy..."
One coin rolled to Vivian's feet. She smiled coldly and stepped on it, grinding her heel for good measure.
"Two-fifty? That wouldn't buy dog treats for my poodle!"
*CRACK.*
The last thread of sanity in Ethan's mind snapped.
The world drained of color, leaving only his daughter's tear-streaked face and the scattered coins rolling across marble like broken dreams.
**Deep in his retina, a line of blood-red code tore through the darkness.**
**[WARNING: S-Class psychological trauma detected in offspring!]**
**[Humiliation Level: MAXIMUM!]**
**[Safety protocols... VIOLENTLY OVERRIDDEN!]**
**[Authority Unlocked: God Mode - City-Wide Lockdown (60-minute limit)!]**
**[Status: You are now the king of this city.]**
Ethan moved.
He didn't roar. He didn't strike. He simply knelt and gathered his sobbing daughter into his arms, using those rough, calloused hands to wipe away her tears with infinite gentleness.
His touch was reverent, as if handling the most precious artifact in existence.
"Don't cry, Lily. Forget the money." Ethan pointed at the closed doors of the restaurant—the symbol of ultimate power in this city. "Daddy's taking you inside for something delicious."
"Ha! Inside?" Vivian doubled over with laughter. "That's the Emperor's Hall! Minimum spend is $880,000! A loser like you couldn't afford to wash dishes there!"
Ethan didn't even glance at her. He pulled out his cracked, ancient phone and dialed a number with no contact name.
Into the receiver, he spoke just two words:
"Clear out."
He hung up.
Three seconds of dead silence.
Tyler opened his mouth to mock him.
Suddenly, every light on the top floor died.
Blinding red emergency strobes began flashing like the heartbeat of some mechanical god.
Over the intercom, a emotionless female voice echoed through the building:
"Level One Security Response! Level One Security Response!"
"Preparing for highest-priority VIP arrival! Top floor restaurant immediate evacuation! All unauthorized personnel must be removed! Repeat: immediate removal!"
The elevator shafts rumbled.
Not passenger elevators. Four tactical lifts opened simultaneously.
*Whoosh!*
Twenty men in black tactical gear and riot shields poured out like a dark tide. These weren't ordinary security guards. The killing intent in their eyes spoke of blood and war.
The lead officer approached Tyler with a face carved from granite.
"I'm Tyler Zhao! I'm a VIP! What the hell are you doing?!" Tyler's voice cracked with panic.
The officer didn't even blink. "Remove him."
Two guards flanked Tyler, lifting him like a sack of garbage.
"Let go of me! I'm Tyler Zhao! I'll have you all fired!"
Vivian shrieked and tried to run, but another guard grabbed her by the collar.
"My designer dress! Do you know how much this costs?!"
"Throw them out," the officer said, his voice colder than arctic wind. "Don't let them contaminate the VIP's path."
Seconds later, the once-chaotic hallway held only father and daughter.
And Manager Chen, who had dropped to his knees with his face pressed into the carpet.
Outside the windows, snow continued to fall. Inside, you could hear a pin drop.
"Daddy..." Lily stopped crying, tears still clinging to her cheeks as she stared at the empty hall. "Did monsters take all the bad people away?"
"Yes. They went where they belong."
Ethan carried his daughter into the restaurant.
"Lily's hungry... wants fried rice." She sniffled, making her small request. "Can we add two eggs? One isn't enough."
Ethan smiled—the first genuine warmth since his return from hell.
"Of course. We'll add lots of eggs."
*Creak—*
The golden doors of the never-opened "Emperor's Hall" slowly parted.
Not waiters emerged, but seven elderly men in tall chef's hats, their chests covered in medals, pushing a cart made of pure gold.
Each commanded godlike status in the international culinary world.
Now these seven master chefs approached the shabbily dressed little girl.
They stood at attention. Bowed their heads. Ninety-degree bows in perfect unison, like a rehearsed honor guard.
"Young Miss, please dine!"
The golden cover lifted. Aromatic steam rose like incense to the heavens.
This wasn't ordinary fried rice. Each grain was premium imperial rice coated in the finest crab roe, topped not with scallions but with white truffle shavings worth more than gold.
This was a bowl of "divine fried rice" that could buy a sports car.
"Wow!" Lily's eyes went wide as saucers, all traces of sadness evaporating instantly.
She grabbed the spoon and shoveled rice into her mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's.
"So good! Daddy! Even better than Mrs. Li's at kindergarten!"
Outside the door, Roxanne Sterling crouched behind a pillar, her expensive Hermès bag forgotten on the floor.
She stared at the scene in disbelief.
City-wide lockdown... for a bowl of fried rice?
That man was using napkins to gently clean rice from his daughter's mouth, his expression so tender it brought tears to her eyes.
Was this the same deadbeat she'd been hunting?
"What secrets is this guy hiding?" Roxanne felt her scalp prickle with unease.
Just then, Ethan's phone on the table began vibrating silently. No ringtone, but the screen flashed urgent red.
**On his retina, a progress bar representing death began racing upward.**
**[WARNING! "City-Wide Lockdown" authority usage detected! Energy signature too large!]**
**[Exposure Alert Level: 28%!]**
**[The "Abyss Watchers" consortium responsible for host's bankruptcy has locked onto this city's IP!]**
**[First wave of assassins correcting coordinates! Contact in 30 seconds!]**
The tenderness in Ethan's eyes instantly crystallized into ice.
In its place came the alertness of a predator scenting blood.
He glanced at Lily, still happily devouring her rice.
In one smooth motion, he scooped up his daughter, spoon and all.
"Lily, are you full?" Ethan's voice was light, almost playful. "Time to play hide-and-seek."
"Yes! Yes! Lily loves hide-and-seek! This time don't find me too fast, okay Daddy?"
"I promise."
Ethan carried his daughter toward the emergency stairwell.
Before the heavy fire door closed, he turned back.
Through the gap, his ice-cold gaze found Roxanne hiding in the shadows with laser precision.
He raised one finger to his lips.
A command for silence from the depths of hell itself.