CHAPTER 264: THE PARTY [5]

The crowd started whispering immediately. Damian’s face darkened; he already knew where all this was going.

Alfred continued. "Some have chosen to disgrace us—throwing away the honor their ancestors built. They forgot the blood that runs through their veins."

Every word was like a needle.

Gabriel watched quietly, his face calm and unreadable.

Damian clenched his fists under the table. He wanted to speak, but he knew better. The moment he opened his mouth, they would twist his words.

Alfred raised his hand slightly, and the whispers died down.

"Tonight, I will reintroduce to you all a man who once carried our name... Damian Graves," he said, his tone filled with sarcasm. "Once an heir, now just a shadow of what he could have been."

A few people laughed quietly. Others looked away, pretending not to notice. Some smirked openly.

One of those gloating openly was Cedric. He was all smiles. Just a few minutes ago, he had been the one disgraced, but now the tables had turned.

In Cedric’s mind, Damian deserved every single jab he was receiving right now.

Damian lowered his gaze, trying hard to control the anger on his face. He was now reconsidering his thoughts. Perhaps he should have simply cut ties with the Graves family entirely. He should never have attended this event.

But Gabriel didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. His calm eyes stayed on Alfred, and for some reason, that made people uncomfortable.

One of the older women beside Alfred leaned forward. "Oh, poor Damian. I remember when you used to follow your brother around like a lost child. I suppose some things never change."

Alfred’s voice broke the tension. "However, we have decided to give Damian a second chance to redeem himself." His tone was calm, but the words were heavy. "He will accept our conditions, return to the branch he was born into, and follow our rules from now on."

People whispered again.

"Return and obey... as expected."

"He should kneel while he’s at it."

"At least he’s lucky the head is being generous."

Damian’s jaw tightened. He stared at the floor for a heartbeat, then at the glass in his hand. Setting it down carefully, he stood up.

The movement was simple, yet it drew every eye. The soft music in the corner stopped without being told to.

He looked at Alfred across the hall. A few seconds of silence passed. In everyone’s mind, they expected Damian to grovel and thank the family head for this ’opportunity.’

However, what he said next stunned everyone.

"No."

The single word was clear. It cut through the noise. Some people actually flinched.

Alfred’s eyelids lowered; he almost thought he had misheard.

"What did you say?"

"I said no," Damian repeated, his voice steady now. "I refuse your offer."

A cold wave spread through the room. Heirs glanced at one another, confused. A few older men frowned. The women who had been whispering about Gabriel stopped talking.

Alfred waited, as if giving Damian time to think better of it. "Do you understand what you’re refusing?"

"I understand," Damian said. He took a slow breath. "And I’ll be clear so everyone hears me. I am no longer part of the Graves family. From today onward, I cut all ties."

A stir, then shock, followed by a messy wave of voices.

"He’s insane."

"He really said it—"

"Is he drunk?"

"Watch his face. He’s not joking."

Damian’s eyes were cold. "I am a member of the Broken Dawn Guild. That is my family going forward. I don’t need the Graves name. I don’t need your tables or your crumbs."

Some of the younger heirs laughed out of reflex, then stopped when they saw he meant it. A few of the female heirs looked between Damian and Gabriel, trying to understand how this pair had even formed.

Alfred’s cane tapped once on the marble. "You speak like a child," he said softly. "You were given a chance to return. You threw it away. You do not cut us—we cut you."

Damian didn’t blink. He held the family head’s gaze fearlessly.

That man was supposed to be his father. He was supposed to look out for him. Once upon a time, Damian had actually thought he did. But after his mother’s passing years ago, even though they never said it aloud, he was unofficially banished—and his supposed father turned into a man who despised him with passion.

"Then cut me again," he said quietly. "It changes nothing."

"Cousin," someone hissed from the side, "think before you speak—"

Damian ignored him. He looked at the main table, at every face that had smiled and whispered and watched him like a show.

"You want me close because of my connections. Because I walk with him." He didn’t point at Gabriel. He didn’t have to. Everyone knew who he meant. "You called me here to use me."

A few elders stiffened. The word use irritated them more than any insult.

Alfred’s smile thinned. "You have nothing we need."

"Maybe you didn’t at first," Damian said. "But now you do."

A tense silence followed. Someone tried to laugh it off and failed.

Alfred raised his hand. "Enough. Sit down, Damian. You are still under my roof. You will not make a scene in my hall."

Damian didn’t sit. "I’ll make it simple. If any Graves come for me—if any branch cousin, any hired dog, any smiling snake puts a foot near me or my people—" he paused, his voice dropping colder, "—what will befall them is certain death."

The words were not shouted. They were spoken like a fact.

The hall took a breath and forgot to let it out.

A few guards near the pillars shifted their weight, hands close to their belts.

Tension slowly filled the hall. It felt as if it was only a moment away from all hell breaking loose.

Alfred’s face hardened for the first time that night. "You threaten your elders in my house?"

"I warn them," Damian said. "So no one can say they weren’t told."

"Arrogant," an uncle snapped. "It seems the guild has gotten to his head."

Alfred straightened as much as his back allowed. "You will sit. You will apologize. Then we will decide what to do with you."

"No," Damian said again. "We’re done here."

He took his jacket from the chair and slid it on. The ease of it made the act sharper—like he was already walking out in his head.

Alfred’s cane struck the floor, louder this time. "If you walk out, we are enemies."

Damian pulled his sleeve straight. "We already are."

A sound went through the room. It wasn’t speech. It was the breath of a hundred people watching a bridge burn in real time.

"You will not leave these premises," Alfred said coldly.

He glanced to the sides. Two security men started forward from the wall at once. They didn’t run. They moved with measured steps—the way professionals do when they know they’re being watched.

Gabriel finally set down his glass. That single movement caught everyone’s attention, and they subconsciously held their breath.