Chapter 9 Breaking Boundaries

Graham Marcus's fierce eyes made those proud young men and women shudder. Marissa Kent thought, *This is not right. What's so scary about him? He's just a poor loser with no background.* Although she humiliated Graham Marcus like before, her face still wore an arrogant and contemptuous expression.

"Graham, even if your uncle and aunt are gone, you shouldn't be so depraved. You act like a barbarian and don't even have any manners!"

Graham sneered and glanced at Marissa, his eyes razor-sharp.

"The ancient people still understood propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame. But you, Marissa Kent, don't. When your Kent family and my Marcus family got engaged, you were already my fiancée. Do you dare to say that if my family was still as glorious as it used to be, you would have broken the engagement? People like you-glamorous on the outside, filthy within-are you qualified to talk about manners?"

Marissa's heart was struck by Graham's words. She turned pale with shame and growled, "You..." But she couldn't utter another word.

Caleb Grant got up from the floor, clutching his face as he returned to Marissa. One side of his face was swollen and red; the other burned with humiliation. He snarled viciously,

"You country bumpkin, you... you dare to hit me! My dad won't let you go!"

Graham laughed out loud, his laughter brimming with arrogance. These so-called elites, normally used to acting superior, looked like panicked clowns before a man with nothing to lose.

Graham stopped laughing and mocked,

"Why is it that you so-called well-bred people always mention your family names when something happens?"

The young masters and ladies who had seemed so noble were now red-faced with humiliation as the other diners in the restaurant watched like spectators at a play.

From Marissa's group, a tall young man stood and frowned, his tone disapproving.

"This... Graham Marcus, right? That's just how society is. Whether you succeed on your own or with family, people only care if you have power. You and we-well, we're just not on the same level."

Graham turned to him. "And who are you?"

"My name is Jackson Roy. I'm the general manager of Ridgeway Enterprises. My father is the company's chairman."

"Good," Graham said flatly. "I'll remember you. One day, I'll make you eat those words."

He didn't strike Jackson-at least Jackson seemed to have more backbone than Marissa and Caleb combined.

Turning to Blair Walker, Graham smiled.

"Blair, let's go. These people are too noble for the likes of us. No point hanging around."

Blair giggled, wrapped her arm around his, gave Marissa a sideways glare, and snorted,

"I still think my Graham is the best-way better than these peacocks in designer suits. Some women really are blind, huh, Graham?"

Graham chuckled, and the two started to leave, ignoring the scowl darkening Marissa's face. But Caleb suddenly shouted,

"Graham Marcus, you bastard! My family will never forgive you!"

Graham paused and turned back. With a quick flick, he slapped Caleb across his other cheek. This one wasn't as hard, but it still left a matching welt. Graham grinned.

"There. Now it's symmetrical."

Blair laughed. "He looks like a guinea pig."

Caleb covered his face, shaking with rage.

"You bastard-an orphaned bastard-!"

Graham's expression shifted, and a chill passed through the air. Marissa and the others backed up instinctively. A man and a woman discreetly pulled out their phones, probably calling for help. Marissa raised her voice, clearly unnerved.

"You... the Grant family will never forgive you!"

Graham turned slowly to Caleb, eyes narrowed like a cat stalking its prey. His smirk turned wicked.

"Really? Then I'd better not let him off just yet."

Blair, never one to back down from a mess, shouted gleefully,

"Graham, he insulted you-go for it! Who cares what family he's from? We'll just run afterward! Barefoot people don't fear shoes!"

Her words nearly made Graham laugh, even through the rage.

Just then, over a dozen security guards rushed in. A bald man in a suit arrived, panting slightly. He forced a smile and said,

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm the lobby manager here-just call me Mr. Lawson. Our restaurant is open for business. Could we please step back and handle this more calmly?"

Marissa and her group, clearly looking for an exit, were preparing to back down. Even Caleb, trembling with fury, hesitated.

Graham, seizing the moment, added with a smile,

"Oh, it's nothing. They just hurled a few insults. Just let me break three of his bones. I won't cause any more trouble after that."

Mr. Lawson's face darkened. His voice cooled.

"Sir, our owner, Mr. Howard, is well known here in Crestwood Falls. Everyone shows him respect. Please let today's incident go. Miss Kent and Mr. Grant won't give you trouble. Once you're off the premises, what you do is none of our concern."

No one-not even Marissa-dared contradict Mr. Lawson's words. Clearly, Mr. Howard was not someone to cross.

"Respect?" Graham sneered. "I don't care whose face it is. If I want to hit someone, I hit them. I said three bones. I won't break four, I won't break two."

Mr. Lawson's expression tightened. The security guards behind him tensed, ready for action.

Then the restaurant doors opened wide.

In strode a striking woman in her twenties, clad in a tailored violet bodysuit and black stockings. Her black heels clicked sharply as she walked, her face as beautiful as Blair'sbut colder, more commanding. Confidence radiated from her like a storm front.

Behind her marched a team of bodyguards. Walking beside her was Walter Harris, the steward who had once approached Graham to treat his master's illness.

The woman?

Vivian Harris-the eldest daughter of the powerful Harris family-the one who had once called Graham Marcus on the phone.

And she was here... with purpose.