The elevator doors slammed shut like the gates of hell, cutting off Tyler's cruel laughter and leaving Ethan alone with his daughter's innocent question that felt like a serrated blade twisting in his chest.
"Daddy, who was that scary lady?" Lily whispered, her small voice trembling as she pressed closer to him, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt like a lifeline. "She looked at me like... like I was something dirty."
Ethan's throat constricted until breathing became a conscious effort. How could he tell his five-year-old daughter that the woman who'd just looked at her with such venomous disgust was her own mother? The woman who'd carried her for nine months, then abandoned them both the moment money and status came calling?
"Just a bad witch, sweetheart," he said softly, the lie tasting like poison mixed with broken glass on his tongue. "Don't worry about her. Daddy won't let anyone hurt you."
They took the service elevator to the top floor, the mechanical grinding of gears matching the grinding of Ethan's teeth as he fought to control the rage building in his chest like molten steel ready to explode. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting harsh shadows that made the small space feel like a coffin rising toward judgment day.
But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor and an even crueler sense of timing.
The moment they stepped onto the forty-seventh floor, there they were again—Vivian and Tyler, standing outside the Emperor's Suite like they owned the world and everyone in it. Vivian's laugh echoed through the marble hallway, sharp and cutting as broken glass mixed with the screams of dying dreams.
"Oh, look who crawled out of the service elevator like a cockroach," Vivian sneered, her voice dripping with venom that could kill small animals. "Still playing dress-up as a decent father, I see. How pathetic."
Her gaze fell on the plastic bag in Lily's small hands—the same bag that had held her precious coins, now empty but still clutched like a treasure more valuable than diamonds. The sight of it seemed to offend Vivian on a molecular level.
"What is that disgusting thing?" Vivian's face twisted with revulsion that belonged in horror movies. "Some little bastard carrying garbage around like it's precious? Don't let that filth touch my Valentino dress—it cost more than your entire pathetic existence!"
She struck out with her manicured hand like a snake striking prey, slapping the bag from Lily's grasp with enough force to send the child stumbling backward. The empty plastic fluttered to the marble floor like a dying bird with broken wings.
Lily's eyes filled with tears that caught the hallway lights like liquid diamonds. "My... my money bag..."
---
Something inside Ethan didn't just break.
It shattered.
Then it caught fire.
Then it exploded with the force of five years of suppressed rage, humiliation, and watching his daughter suffer while her own mother lived in luxury built on their destruction.
But he couldn't explode here. Not in front of Lily. Not where it would traumatize the one person he lived to protect, the one pure thing left in his corrupted world.
**[DING!]**
**[SUPREME DAD SYSTEM - EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]**
**[DAUGHTER HUMILIATION DETECTED: MAXIMUM LEVEL EXCEEDED]**
**[MATERNAL ABANDONMENT TRAUMA: CRITICAL]**
**[GRIEVANCE POINTS EARNED: +8,000 GP (RECORD HIGH)]**
**[SPECIAL ABILITY UNLOCKED: CITY OVERRIDE]**
**[DURATION: 60 MINUTES]**
**[WARNING: EXTREME EXPOSURE RISK]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: UNLEASH HELL]**
The system's voice echoed in his mind like the whisper of a digital god offering unlimited power in exchange for his daughter's happiness and his enemies' complete annihilation.
Ethan knelt down with the careful precision of someone defusing a bomb, gently picking up the plastic bag and smoothing it out with the reverence of someone handling a holy relic. He handed it back to Lily, then lifted her into his arms where she belonged—safe, protected, loved.
"You know what, sweetheart?" he said, his voice carrying a new edge that made Tyler step back unconsciously, some primitive part of his brain recognizing the presence of an apex predator. "That lady is right about one thing. This isn't the right place for a princess like you."
He pointed to the massive golden doors of the Emperor's Suite, where Vivian and Tyler were clearly heading for their dinner of overpriced food and underpriced souls.
"That's where the bad witch eats her food. But Daddy knows a much better place—a special dining room reserved exclusively for princesses and their fathers."
Vivian's laughter was like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the sound of children crying. "Oh, this is absolutely precious! The Emperor's Suite has a minimum spend of $880,000 per night! You couldn't afford to wash dishes there, you pathetic waste of oxygen!"
Tyler joined in, his voice carrying the smug satisfaction of someone who'd never faced real consequences. "Face it, Ethan. You're nothing. You've always been nothing. And that little mistake you're carrying will grow up to be nothing, just like her failure of a father."
Ethan pulled out his phone with movements so calm they were terrifying, and sent a single text message to a number that existed in the shadows between governments.
Thirty seconds later, the hotel's PA system crackled to life with an announcement that would be remembered, recorded, and replayed for years to come:
"ATTENTION ALL GUESTS AND STAFF: Due to the arrival of an extremely distinguished guest requiring absolute privacy, the entire forty-seventh floor will be cleared immediately. All current occupants must vacate the premises within ninety seconds. This is not a request. This is not negotiable. Security will escort anyone who fails to comply."
---
The golden doors of the Emperor's Suite burst open like the gates of war, and a team of black-suited security guards poured out like a tactical strike force descended from heaven to deliver divine justice. Their leader, a man built like a mountain with scars that told stories of violence in foreign countries, looked directly at Vivian and Tyler with eyes that had seen too much death to be impressed by money.
"You two. Out. Now. Move."
Tyler's face went purple with indignation that would have been comical if it weren't so pathetic. "Do you know who I am? I'm Tyler Zhao! My family owns half this city! You can't just—"
The security chief's smile was colder than arctic wind and twice as deadly. "Sir, compared to the gentleman we're expecting, you're less than nothing. You're not even a footnote in his story. You have thirty seconds to leave before we carry you out in pieces."
"This is insane!" Vivian shrieked as two guards flanked her like angels of retribution. "We have a reservation! We're VIP guests! I'll sue this hotel into bankruptcy!"
"Ma'am," the chief said with the patience of someone explaining basic concepts to a particularly slow child, "your VIP status just got revoked by someone whose VIP status could buy and sell your entire bloodline. Not anymore. Never again."
They were dragged away like common criminals, Vivian's designer heels scraping against the marble as she screamed threats and curses that would make sailors blush and demons take notes. Tyler's protests faded into pathetic whimpers as the elevator doors closed on their humiliation.
The hallway fell silent except for the soft hum of air conditioning and Lily's quiet breathing against Ethan's neck—the sound of innocence in a world gone mad with greed and cruelty.
"Daddy," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder instead of fear, "this place is so big and empty. I'm hungry... could we maybe find some fried rice? Just with one egg is okay. I don't need anything fancy."
Ethan's heart clenched at her simple request, at the way she still asked for so little when she deserved everything. After everything she'd been through—the cold, the hunger, the cruelty of adults who should have protected her—all she wanted was a bowl of fried rice.
"Of course, princess. Let's get you the best fried rice in the world. The kind that emperors dream about."
---
The massive doors to the private dining room opened as if by magic, revealing a space that looked like it belonged in a palace designed by angels who specialized in impossible beauty. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city lights stretching to the horizon like fallen stars scattered across black velvet.
Then the real show began.
Seven figures emerged from the kitchen in perfect formation—each wearing the tall white hat of a master chef, each carrying credentials that would make food critics weep with envy and restaurant owners commit murder for the privilege of employment. They pushed golden carts that gleamed under crystal chandeliers worth more than most people's houses, moving with the precision of a military honor guard presenting arms to royalty.
The lead chef, a man whose restaurants had earned more Michelin stars than most countries possessed, approached Lily with the reverence usually reserved for meeting actual royalty or religious figures.
"Young Miss," he said, bowing so deeply his hat nearly touched the floor in a display of respect that would have made emperors jealous, "we are deeply honored to prepare your meal. It is the greatest privilege of our careers."
The other six chefs followed suit, their synchronized bow creating a moment of such surreal grandeur that it felt like a scene from a fairy tale written by someone who understood that magic was real and it lived in the love between fathers and daughters.
"We have prepared our signature Imperial Fried Rice," the head chef continued, lifting a golden cloche with the ceremony of someone unveiling a masterpiece, "made with Wagyu beef from Japan, black truffles from France, saffron from Kashmir, and yes—finished with edible gold leaf because a princess deserves to eat stars."
Lily's eyes went wide as saucers, reflecting the golden gleam of the dish like twin suns. "It's so pretty! Like eating pieces of heaven!"
She took a bite with the careful reverence of someone who understood that this was special, and her face lit up with pure joy that could have powered the entire city. "Daddy! This is the most delicious thing ever! Your friend's chefs are even better than Mrs. Chen from kindergarten!"
Ethan watched his daughter eat with the appetite of someone who'd known hunger, and felt something warm and fierce settle in his chest like a dragon made of love and protective fury. This was what she deserved. This was the life he would build for her, brick by brick, enemy by enemy.
But they weren't alone.
Hidden behind a partially open service door, two figures watched in stunned silence that spoke louder than screams. Vivian's face had gone white as paper, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing like a computer trying to run software it wasn't designed for. Beside her, Roxanne Sterling stood frozen, her brilliant legal mind racing to understand how a bankrupt construction worker could command this level of service from people who normally served heads of state.
"Seven Michelin-starred chefs," Roxanne whispered, more to herself than to Vivian, her voice carrying the awe of someone witnessing a miracle. "Preparing fried rice for a five-year-old. The entire floor cleared like he's the President. Who the hell is Ethan Blackwell?"
---
Ethan's phone suddenly erupted in red warning lights, the screen flashing like an emergency beacon broadcasting the end of the world.
**[CRITICAL ALERT - DEFCON 1]**
**[EXPOSURE METER: 28% AND CLIMBING]**
**[THE ABYSS WATCHER HAS DETECTED ANOMALOUS ACTIVITY]**
**[LOCATION COMPROMISED - KILL TEAM DISPATCHED]**
**[ELIMINATION SQUAD ETA: 30 SECONDS]**
**[PRIORITY TARGET: DAUGHTER]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: RUN. NOW.]**
The blood in Ethan's veins turned to liquid nitrogen. He'd gotten careless, let his anger override his caution, let his love for his daughter cloud his judgment. Now the enemies who'd destroyed his life five years ago had found him.
And they weren't just coming for him.
They were coming for Lily.
"Lily, sweetheart," he said, his voice carefully controlled as he lifted her from her chair, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to explode into violence, "are you full? Because Daddy just remembered we need to play a very important game of hide-and-seek."
"But I'm not finished with my pretty rice," she protested, still holding her golden spoon like a tiny scepter. "It tastes like happiness!"
"We'll take it with us," Ethan promised, wrapping the remaining food in a napkin with hands that didn't shake despite the terror clawing at his heart. "This is going to be the most exciting hide-and-seek game ever. The kind where Daddy gets to be a superhero."
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he could see black SUVs pulling up to the hotel entrance like mechanical vultures. Men in tactical gear were already moving through the lobby with the efficiency of people who killed for a living.
The Abyss Watcher had found them.
And this time, they weren't just coming to destroy his life.
They were coming to erase it completely.
Along with his daughter.
Ethan looked down at Lily, who trusted him completely despite the danger closing in around them like a noose made of bullets and bad intentions.
"Hold on tight, princess," he whispered, his voice carrying promises of violence that would make gods weep. "Daddy's about to show you some real magic."
The Supreme Dad System hummed to life in his mind like a war machine awakening:
**[EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED]**
**[PROTECTING DAUGHTER: PRIORITY ALPHA]**
**[ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE]**
**[WEAPONS FREE]**
**[LET THE GAMES BEGIN]**
The war for his daughter's life was about to start.
And Ethan Blackwell was done playing defense.