Tamara took a step back and bumped into Preston. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by angry faces, with nowhere to go. Preston's breathing came fast and shallow. For the first time in his life, the great heir of the Wells family looked small.Thompson Sr. watched all of it from beside the payment table. He was no longer gray or purple. His color had returned, and so had his sense.He glanced at Mr. Fuller, who gave him a short, tired nod. Then he cleared his throat and walked to the center of the hall with his shoulders back."Mr. Cole," Thompson Sr. said. His voice was steady now, and for once it carried no arrogance. "I have thought about your terms. Thirty percent of net profit, boxes from the Harlow factory, and no herbs to the Wells family or the Watanabe Group. I accept all of it."A murmur ran through the hall. Mr. Fuller stepped up beside him."My family accepts as well," Mr. Fuller said. He glanced at the farmers in the crowd and lowered his eyes. "We wil

Every eye turned to Preston. He stood near the stage with his shoulders stiff and his jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped in his cheek. Inside his head, a poisonous thought was boiling. This old man had humiliated him, and Ethan had humiliated him, and the whole city was cheering a dog that should have been put down years ago. If Tamara's men took Ethan away tonight, the shame would end."I do not take orders from a man who lost his own family," Preston answered coldly. He crossed his arms and looked away from Victor Sr. "Madam Watanabe is my guest. If she believes Ethan Cole is a criminal, then let her handle it."A hush fell. Victor Sr. stared at him in disbelief.Preston turned his head and called toward the back row, where a broad shouldered man in a black suit stood with his arms folded. "Mason Grant. Go and help Madam Watanabe's people. Take Ethan Cole down. That is an order."The crowd muttered in outrage. A woman near the front spat on the floor. A distributor shouted that

Nobody saw him move. One moment he stood beside Victoria, and the next a sword was already sweeping toward Victor Sr.'s neck from behind, so close that the old man's white hair lifted in the draft. Then the swordsman simply stopped existing. A single fist crossed the space between them, and the man burst into a red mist that sprayed across the carpet and the overturned chairs.Ethan stood in front of Victor Sr. with his arm still extended. He had not even raised his voice.He turned and vanished again. Director Shane, backed against a pillar with a broken chair leg in his hands, saw three assassins rush him from three sides. Before he could swing, all three were gone, each one erased by a single blow, and the pillar behind him was painted with blood. The old Milwaukee king stood with his mouth hanging open and the chair leg shaking in his fist."Heaven above," Director Shane breathed. His whole body trembled. "What kind of man are you?"Ethan did not answer. He moved through the hall

Mrs. Hayes limped forward with one hand pressed over the cut on her arm. Her face was pale, but her eyes were bright with a hard, bitter joy, and she looked down at Preston the way a woman looks at a muddy dog that has tracked filth across her clean floor."Feed him to the pigs?" Mrs. Hayes sneered. Her voice shook with scorn. "Look at yourself, Preston. A minute ago you were barking for foreign swords to cut off your own countrymen's heads, and now you are whimpering on the carpet like a puppy that wet itself. Even a street mutt has more spine than you.""A mutt would have bitten the woman who held its throat," Victor Sr. added coldly. He leaned on his cane and shook his white head. His eyes held no pity at all. "You licked her boots instead. The Wells name will be a joke in every kennel from here to New York."Mason Grant stood a few steps away with blood soaking his sleeve. He did not say a word, but the look he gave his former employer was heavier than any insult. Preston saw it,

"Put me down for fifty of the Moonlight Cream," a distributor shouted, waving his phone over his head. "Right now! Take my money!"The crowd surged toward the payment table in a wave. Merchants pushed. Farmers shouted. Reporters scrambled to get closer, and Doctor James almost disappeared beneath the rush of hands and phones and waving papers. He squeaked with joy and held his tablet in the air like a trophy.Thompson Sr. wiped the sweat from his face and hurried to Victoria's side with the stiff, hungry look of a man who had learned an expensive lesson. The other bosses followed close behind, bowing and nodding."Miss Harlow," Thompson Sr. begged. His voice was low and hoarse. "We will need more boxes. Many more. Please, could Harlow Furniture give us early access to the custom boxes? We will pay whatever is needed. Whatever your terms are, we will accept them."Victoria glanced at Ethan, and a small proud smile curled across her lips. She folded her hands and answered with a calm an