"David Taylor?" Timothy Hill recognized the young man instantly. He wasn't a stranger—he was the grandson of William's former chef.
The young man sneered, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. "Old man, I'm not in the mood to waste time today. You wanna die on your own, or should I have my guys do it for you?"
Timothy's face went pale—not out of fear for himself, but because he was terrified of disturbing William.
"You tired of living?" he said coldly.
David snorted and crooked a finger behind him. A group of men in suits stormed in, their presence radiating menace.
"Hill, my grandpa used to give you face. But he's dead now. From here on out, the Taylor family answers to me," David said with a smirk. "You've got two choices—become our puppet, or die. Pick one."
He laughed, shaking his head. "My grandpa must've been senile. Three generations of Taylors built this empire, and he wanted to hand it over to you? What a joke."
"You're practically in the grave already. You think you can manage all that? What, you planning to choke on the profits?" David scoffed. "People out there call you a god. If you really are one, then kill me right here. Come on—show me what a god can do!"
Timothy's influence was massive. If David could force him to submit, it wouldn't be long before the Taylor family became the most powerful in the world.
"He's James Taylor's grandson?" William asked calmly, sipping his tea as he glanced at David.
"Master!" Timothy trembled and dropped to his knees beside William's feet. David's actions were beyond disrespectful. If William chose to take offense, the consequences would be catastrophic.
Others might not understand William's power, but Timothy had seen a mere sliver of it—and even that was more than any mortal could handle.
David finally noticed William. Seeing Timothy kneeling before him and calling him "Master," he burst out laughing.
"Timothy, cut the crap."
"Master? You trying to tell me this guy is the one my grandpa used to talk about? That he's back? Hah! What a joke!"
"If he was really from fifty years ago, he'd be six feet under by now. Acting all high and mighty in front of me? He's got a death wish."
William ignored him and asked, "Does the Taylor family have any other children?"
Timothy, still kneeling, answered carefully, "There's… a granddaughter."
William stood up slowly. "As long as there's another heir, that's enough."
Timothy instantly understood what that meant.
David Taylor had just been sentenced to death.
"The hell are you mumbling about?" David snapped, clearly losing patience. He raised an eyebrow. "Break that punk's legs. Let him learn how to speak to me properly."
"Yes, Young Master Taylor!"
David's men were all killers—trained, ruthless, and deadly. Taking out one old man and a random kid? Child's play.
One of the bigger men grinned and lunged for William's throat.
William didn't move. His hands stayed clasped behind his back.
Crack.
The man's hand froze just three inches from William's neck—completely still, like he'd turned to stone.
William took a single step forward.
The man who'd attacked him instantly dissolved into a wisp of black smoke, vanishing without a trace—not even a hair left behind.
"You…" David's pupils shrank. His face twisted in horror as he stumbled back two steps.
His men erupted in chaos. None of them had seen William move, but the first guy to attack was just… gone.
"An illusion! It has to be an illusion! Kill him! All of you, kill him!" David shouted, voice cracking with panic.
The black-suited men roared and charged.
William didn't flinch. He simply looked at them.
In the next instant, all of them—every last one—turned to black smoke and vanished into the air.
David stood frozen, drenched in cold sweat.
"W-What are you…? Are you even human?" he stammered, pulling a pistol from his coat and aiming it at William.
William stared at him, expression flat. "For your grandfather's sake, I'll leave you a whole corpse."
Bang!
David, panicked and trembling, pulled the trigger.
The bullet twisted midair and punched straight through his own forehead.
A spray of blood burst from the back of his skull.
…
Outside the old estate, dozens of eyes were locked on the house.
The moment word got out that David Taylor had stormed into Timothy Hill's residence with armed men, it hit the world like a magnitude-ten earthquake.
"David Taylor actually made a move on Mr. Hill?"
"Has he lost his damn mind? What the hell is he trying to do?"
"Report to the family head immediately! David Taylor fired a gun!"
The news that David Taylor had shot Timothy Hill spread like wildfire across the globe.
Countless power players were stunned—but each had their own thoughts brewing.
"Is the Taylor family trying to start a war? From this day forward, the Smith family is cutting all ties with them!" roared the head of a major business empire, already issuing orders to begin targeting the Taylors.
"Timothy Hill really got killed by David Taylor? Then the balance of power in this world is about to shift."
That came from a kingpin in the underworld, swirling red wine in his glass, a strange smile playing on his lips.
At a secluded mountain estate, five elderly men—each over fifty—had gathered. Together, they controlled nearly thirty percent of the world's wealth. All of them had once served William. Now, they were titans in their own right.
"They said the Master returned… but if David Taylor really fired that shot…" One of them, dressed in a sharp suit, trailed off, his expression complicated. He didn't dare finish the sentence.
"Daniel, what are you implying? We all swore back then—if the Master ever returned, we'd still serve him."
"Hmph. Serve for life? And our sons? Our grandsons? I don't have many years left, but why should my descendants have to bow too, just because William came back?"
"It's been fifty years. Everything we have now—didn't we earn it ourselves?"
"Let's wait. All we know is that David Taylor fired a shot. No one's seen Timothy Hill's body."
…
Back at the estate, William stepped out of the house, one slow step at a time.
He looked at the people lurking outside. None of them had tried to stop David Taylor. That alone said enough.
Maybe it had started as a favor for a bowl of rice—or a grudge over a cup. But over time, those simple ties had twisted into something far more complicated. William understood that better than anyone.
"Timothy," he said quietly, "tell them I'll be waiting tomorrow in Manhattan, East 62nd Street, at the old house."
As soon as the words left his mouth, his figure began to blur. A second later, he vanished from the doorway.
"How… how did he leave?"
"He's a god. He really is a god…"
"Report to the family head! Lock down all information!"
The agents sent by the world's top families were frozen in place, pale with fear.
David Taylor never came back out.
And that alone told them everything they needed to know.
A/N: Hi readers! Enjoying the ride? I'm all ears for your thoughts. Write a review and put it in your library in case it is a hit to you. Cheers!