Chapter 55

Back at the imperial club, all the guests were still celebrating Williams Gravesend birthday. not knowing the chaos that had unfolded

At the center of it all stood William Griefsend.

Wrapped in a tailored obsidian suit and flashing a wolfish smile, William held court with billionaires, governors, and underworld figures dressed like royalty. Fresh chapters posted on find·novel·net

"Ah, Senator Lin, you made it," William laughed, clapping a man on the back. "I thought your heart attack last week would save you from buying me a gift."

The room erupted in polite laughter.

A toast was called. Glasses clinked. The band struck up a jazz tune. Everything sparkled.

William was king tonight. His son-Baron-was being groomed to succeed him. The empire was thriving. His enemies were quiet.

Nothing could go wrong.

Until the door slammed open.

A uniformed guard stumbled into the hall, his face pale, sweat soaking his collar. He rushed forward, past guests and security.

"Sir! Sir, please—" the guard gasped, out of breath.

William didn't even glance at him. He swirled his drink casually, smirking at the man beside him.

"I'm entertaining the pillars of this city," he said coldly, waving the guard off. "Do I look like I want distractions?"

"Sir, it's urgent. You need to come "

“If it's not life or death,” William snapped, narrowing his eyes, “I swear on your pathetic blood, I'll hang you upside down from the roof of this club."

The guard leaned in and whispered two words.

William's glass slipped from his hand, shattering against the marble floor.

He turned without a word and walked-no, stormed-out of the grand hall. Down the hallway.

Past the gambling rooms and private lounges.

Straight to the crimson suite where Baron had been last seen.

He flung open the doors.

And the world went silent.

The room reeked of blood and gunpowder. Furniture was shattered. The walls were stained red. And in the center, lying in a lake of blood, was what remained of Baron Griefsend.

His headless corpse.

William stumbled back a step, as if the floor had buckled beneath him.

"No... no, no, no..." he murmured, voice breaking for a brief second.

Then his expression twisted.

His eyes turned into ice.

His mouth curled into a snarl.

He roared a sound that didn't belong in the throat of a man, but something darker.

"WHO THE HELL-DID THIS?!"

His voice echoed through the halls.

Guards and guests alike froze, their faces blanching.

"You killed my son?! In MY party?! Surrounded by MY men?! Who dares spit in the face of the Gravesend family?!" he howled, kicking over a table with bone-snapping force.

“I'll burn the bastard alive! I'll carve out their soul and piss on its ashes! I'll—" Another guard ran in, skidding to a stop.

"Sir! Something was left at the front gate. A box. With a letter addressed to you."

William marched toward the box like a man possessed. Guests cleared the way like leaves before a storm.

It sat in the lobby. A black wooden box with gold edges, almost beautiful in its craft.

On top, a card in blood-red ink:

> A special gift for William Gravesend.

His hands trembled as he opened it.

Inside...

Baron's severed head.

Eyes wide open.

Mouth frozen in a scream.

The room fell into silence.

William didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Then his breath returned-shallow, sharp, murderous.

"I don't

voice who it is," he growled,

care

voice low and deadly. "I don't what they are t don't care what army they command."

He turned to his men, blood pounding in his temples.

"Find them."

His voice dropped to a whisper that felt colder than death.

"And when you do... don't kill them.

Bring them to me. I want to see their face when I destroy everything they ever loved.”