The King Of War Returns (Jaden Rift) novel Chapter 62

Outside Winston Mansion

The night air stirred as a matte-black Cadillac Escalade rolled up the driveway of the Winston Mansion. The engine gave a low growl as it came to a stop near the front entrance, the headlights casting long shadows on the red carpet.

The back door opened.

A heavy boot hit the ground.

And then came the man himself — Mr. Stanwell Wood.

Clad in a custom-fitted dark coat stretched over broad shoulders, Stanwell was built like a war tank. His eyes were sharp, his jawline carved from granite, and that signature smirk sat on his face like he owned the entire damn city.

Behind him, three massive bouncers stepped out, dressed in sleek black and moving like shadows.

The head of security near the door froze for a second — then lit up like a kid at a concert.

“Oh my God… Sir! Mr. Stanwell!” the security guy gushed, almost tripping over his words. “It’s an honor—man, it’s such an honor. I watched every match you had. That one in Mexico—where you broke that guy’s jaw and collarbone at once—masterpiece!”

Stanwell didn’t even stop walking. He tilted his head slightly and gave a half-smirk.

“Where’s Hannah Winston?” he asked, voice deep, low, and commanding.

The guard straightened up instantly. “She’s on the first floor, sir. Ballroom—straight through the main hall, up the staircase—”

But before the man could finish, Stanwell shoved him aside with a single, effortless arm. The guard stumbled back but didn’t even mind—he looked like he’d just been baptized.

Stanwell and his crew stormed inside.

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Inside the Winston Mansion

The party was in full swing—music low, champagne sparkling, people laughing and socializing in designer suits and glittering gowns. But the moment Stanwell entered, the entire atmosphere shifted.

Heads turned. Glasses paused mid-air.

Whispers spread like wildfire.

The murmurs built like a wave as Stanwell walked through the crowd, not sparing a glance at anyone. His eyes locked on a single point — the elegant silhouette of Hannah Winston, standing just a few feet from Jaden Rift.

Jaden stood coolly beside her, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding his wine glass. He had that usual unreadable look on his face — calm, dangerous, unbothered.

Stanwell’s jaw tightened.

He walked straight toward them, the crowd instinctively parting like the Red Sea.

Hannah turned her head, and her face fell when she saw him.

“Stanwell…”

“Evening, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, eyes never leaving Jaden. “Nice dress. Shame it’s wasted standing next to garbage.”

Jaden’s fingers subtly tapped his glass, but his gaze stayed locked on Stanwell’s without flinching.

Stanwell stepped closer, nose to nose with him now. “You bastard. How dare you stand next to my girl?”