Donald rushed toward the police chief, face twisted with fury. Behind him, the Silvercrest security team moved as one, heavy weapons raised, red dots landing on every officer's chest.
"Wait!" Chief Dolan threw his hands up. "I was only trying to help! He was running back to the cell..."
Donald's fist connected with his chin three times, each impact like meat hitting concrete. "Helpful? You threw the young master to the ground. You had your men tackle him like a common criminal."
A kick to the stomach folded the chief in half. He dropped to his knees, coughing blood onto the pavement. His officers knelt in perfect surrender, surrounded by men with guns who clearly wanted an excuse to pull the trigger. If Donald ordered the entire force wiped out, nobody would say a word.
Donald turned away from the bleeding chief, his entire demeanor shifting from killer to servant again. He gently helped Ethan to his feet. "Young Master, please forgive me. I failed to protect you."
Ethan touched his swollen cheek. "I'm okay."
"You are not okay, you were assaulted." Donald's eyes swept over him. "What are your orders? The officers who touched you, should they be killed or imprisoned? Name your justice."
Ethan stared. This couldn't be a trick anymore, a trick wouldn't involve Donald Steflon throwing punches at a police chief and offering executions. This was real, but even so he wasn't ready to become someone else overnight. "Let them go."
Donald blinked. "But they assaulted you. The chief ordered..."
"The chief was trying to help you. He thought he was doing what you wanted. Plus he is probably someone's husband and father, make sure he gets proper medical care."
Donald stared for a long moment, then something like pride shifted in his expression. "You are merciful and wise, Young Master. Qualities of a true heir, ones your father desperately needs."
Ethan didn't know what to say.
"So, will you come now? Your father has waited so many years."
Ethan's head was spinning. An hour ago he was in a cell, now he was being called young master by the second most powerful man in the world. "I can't, It's too much, I need time to process."
A flash of disappointment crossed Donald's face, quickly hidden. "I understand. But please, don't take too long. Your father needs you critically."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out two cards. The first was sleek and metallic, engraved with Ethan's full name and the Silvercrest crest with mountain, crown and stars. "Your identity card. Use it at any Silvercrest company, facility, or any business owned by our subordinate families and it will give you Immediate access to anything you need."
Ethan took it. It was heavier than it looked.
The second card made his breath catch. Completely black, made from metal that seemed to absorb light. No name and no numbers, just a small Silvercrest crest. "Premium black card. Only individuals worth over ten billion carry one. This has two hundred billion dollars loaded onto it."
Ethan's fingers nearly dropped it. "Two hundred… billion?"
"For whatever you need. Clothes, cars, property."
Donald pulled out his phone. "Additionally, I've transferred one hundred billion to your personal bank account."
Ethan's phone buzzed. He pulled it out with shaking hands. Spirit Bank, Credit Alert: $100,000,000,000.
His legs went weak. One hundred billion in his account, plus two hundred billion on the card. Three hundred billion total, that was double Cady Winter's entire family net worth, nearly as much as Brad Charlesly's family, and close to the total of all Golden Five families combined.
Ethan burst out laughing until his bruised cheek hurt and tears formed.
Donald had a concerned look on his face, "Young Master, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Ethan managed. "I'm just… fine."
Donald bowed one final time. "I will call you tomorrow for your response. Please take care until then." He turned to his men. "We're leaving." The army of cars drove off as quickly as they had come.
Ethan stood frozen, then opened his banking app. The numbers were still there. He refreshed and it was still there.
"Okay. First, I need to know if this money is real. I need to spend it." He thought of Mayfair Gardens, the billionaire hotspot every Silvercrest student talked about with stars in their eyes. He hailed a taxi.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
"Mayfair Gardens."
The driver looked at Ethan's shabby clothes, bruised face and champagne-stained uniform. "You sure, buddy? That place is…"
"Just drive." Ethan said as he sat in the back seat, staring at the two cards. His phone rang, it was Spirit Bank Corporate Office.
"Hello? Is this Mr. Ethan?" The voice trembled, eager and desperate to please. "My name is Austin Ross, president of Spirit Bank."
Ethan smiled. A man whose face appeared on financial magazines, who dined with senators, was calling him directly. "What can I do for you, Mr. Ross?"
"Sir, about the hundred-billion-dollar transfer. Our system automatically locked the account due to the deposit size and standard procedure. We need you to come in tomorrow morning to process the unlock. Would that work?"
Ethan leaned back. "Tomorrow morning, I'll try, if I have the time."
"Of course, sir. Whatever works for your schedule. Thank you for taking my call." With that the phone call ended.
The taxi pulled up to a building that didn't look real, it was a tower of glass, light, impossible angles, stretching into the night sky. Cars like magazine covers lined up outside. Marble columns flanked the entrance, doormen in suits that cost more than Ethan's entire life savings from two hours ago.
"So this is Mayfair Gardens. Alright then."
The moment he stepped through the doors, heads turned. The lobby was marble floors and crystal chandeliers. Men in tailored suits, women in shimmering gowns, waiters carrying thousand-dollar drinks. And then there was Ethan in his dirty uniform, with swollen cheek, hair crusted with dried champagne.
"Excuse me." Three security guards approached, with hard expressions. "What are you doing here?" asked the biggest, with a shaved head and a neck thick as Ethan's thigh.
Ethan raised a brow, "I came to have a nice time. Like everyone else."
The guard laughed hysterically. "Does this look like a budget spot to you? A local hangout?"
"I know exactly what this place is. That's why I'm here." Ethan responded.
The second guard stepped forward. "Are you a billionaire, sir? This establishment is strictly for billionaires."
Ethan smiled. "As a matter of fact, I am a centibillionaire."
All three burst out laughing. "A centibillionaire," the first guard repeated, wiping his eyes. "Hear that, Mike? We got a centibillionaire here."
"Yeah, I'm a centibillionaire too," the third guard mocked. "My dream self owns half the city."
Ethan tried to step past. The first guard shoved him back. "Don't touch me," Ethan said.
"We told you to leave. Don't make this difficult."
"I'm going inside." Ethan retorted.
"You are going back to whatever alley you crawled out of, before we..."
"What do we have here?"
Ethan knew that voice. Adam Cole walked toward them, smirk spreading. Behind him came the rest of the Golden Five, Brad, Jason, Jessica, Cady, and tucked under Brad's arm, Celia, looking at Ethan like something stuck to her shoe.
"Ethan?" Adam stopped. "Shouldn't you be rotting in a jail cell?"
Jessica laughed, tossing her hair. "Seriously, how is he not in prison? And why are you letting a criminal hang around the entrance?"
The guards snapped to attention, with their tough-guy act vanishing into nervous stammering. "Miss Flinch, we were just..."
"Enough," Brad said calmly. He was family was now connected to the Silvercrest Clan, he didn't need to yell.
Celia pulled away from Brad and stepped toward Ethan, her face twisted with disgust. "Is this what you did with the opportunity God gave you?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "What opportunity?"
"Amelia got Ray Steflon to get you out of jail. That's a golden gift, and instead of going home and thanking God, you came here to stalk me."
Ethan frowned, "First of all, I'm not here to stalk you. I don't give a damn about you anymore, Celia."
Her face went red. "Excuse me?"
"Second, who is Ray Steflon? And third, I'm very sure this Ray person had nothing to do with my release."
Adam jabbed a finger toward Ethan's chest. "You ungrateful bastard. Amelia made a call and Ray made it happen, and you're standing here acting like you freed yourself?"
"I don't know any Ray, and no, he didn't free me."
Cady rolled her eyes. "Why are we wasting time? Let's go inside."
"Wait." Celia held up her hand, staring at Ethan strangely. "You really don't know who Ray Steflon is?"
"I don't." Ethan responded.
The Golden Five exchanged glances. Jessica burst out laughing. "Of course he doesn't know. This is why poor people stay poor, they lack information. If he doesn't even know Ray Steflon's name, how could he ever be rich?"
"The last name sounds familiar," Ethan said, "but…"
"The last name sounds familiar?" Adam repeated, annoyed. "You hear 'Steflon' and just think it sounds familiar?"
Ethan thought to himself, The man at the station was named Donald. Then aloud he says, "Does this Ray go by another name? Donald, maybe?"
Every single person in the Golden Five went completely still. Cady's face went pale. Jessica's smirk vanished. Adam took a half-step backward. Even Brad's expression flickered.
"Don't," Adam whispered. "Don't say that name like that. Do you want to lose your head?"
"Why?" Ethan asked, genuinely confused.
"Donald Steflon," Brad cut in, voice tight, "is Ray's father. He's the head butler of the Silvercrest family. The second most powerful man in the entire world. You don't just say his name like he's some random guy on the street."
Ethan processed this, then smiled. So Donald's the second most powerful. But if I took his offer, that would make Donald third. And me second, right under my supposed father.
The security guards grabbed Ethan's arms, breaking his thoughts. "That's it. You're out of here."
"Wait." The voice was calm, commanding. Amelia Freeman walked through the entrance, Trevor right beside her. "Let him go. Now."
The guards saw Trevor and immediately released Ethan, bowing and stepping back so fast they nearly tripped. "Young Master Trevor," they said in unison. "We didn't know you were arriving."
Latest Chapter
Chapter 152: The Serpent's End
"Not this time." Ethan stepped forward, his hand resting on the weapon at his hip. "Your daughter is in custody. Your allies have abandoned you. The Triad and the Shadow Council are already distancing themselves—they don't want to be associated with a sinking ship. You have nothing left." "I have my honor." Don Massimo rose from his chair, his posture dignified despite the chaos around him. "I have my name. I have my blood. Those are things you cannot take from me." "I can take everything else." The old don studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "You have won this battle, young heir. But the war... the war never ends." He set down his glass and spread his hands. "Do what you must." Ethan gestured, and two Black Division operatives stepped forward, securing Don Massimo's wrists. The old don didn't resist. He simply watched Ethan with those dark, knowing eyes. "You remind me of myself," Don Massimo said quietly. "When I was young. When I believed I could cha
Chapter 151: The Price of War
The story broke on a Tuesday morning. Amelia was in the manor's breakfast room, sipping coffee and reviewing wedding venue options with Yuki, when Sable walked in with a tablet in her hand. Her expression was grim, the kind of grim that meant bad news was coming. "You need to see this," Sable said quietly. She set the tablet on the table. The screen displayed the front page of the Sinclair Daily, the same tabloid that had once been Victoria Sinclair's flagship publication, now under new management but still hungry for scandal. The headline screamed in bold black letters: "AMELIA FREEMAN'S FAMILY SECRETS: Mother's Affair, Father's Corruption, and the Truth Behind the Silvercrest Heir's Fiancée." Beneath the headline was a photograph, an old image of Amelia's mother, young and beautiful, standing next to a man who was not her husband. The article that followed was a litany of accusations: her mother's alleged affairs, her father's corrupt business deals, the family's hidden debts an
Chapter 150: The First Strike
The attack came at dawn, in London, a Silvercrest-owned investment firm was hit by a coordinated cyberattack that wiped out millions in assets. In Tokyo, a Silvercrest shipping vessel was seized by port authorities acting on fabricated evidence of smuggling. In New York, a Silvercrest-backed charity was raided by federal agents, its reputation smeared by leaked documents that painted it as a front for money laundering. Three countries. Three attacks. All within the span of an hour. Ethan stood in the war room, watching the reports flood in. His face was calm, but his eyes burned with cold fury. "They're hitting us everywhere at once," Sable said, her voice tight. "Communications. Finances. Operations. They're trying to overwhelm us, to divide our attention, to make us react instead of act." "Then we don't react. We respond." Ethan turned to Donald. "What's our status?" "Communications are compromised in three regions. We're rerouting through backup servers. Finances are stab
Chapter 149: The Quiet Before the Storm
The Silvercrest Manor was quiet. For the first time in weeks, there were no emergencies. No assassination attempts. No kidnappings. No diplomatic crises. Just the soft hum of the heating system, the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, and the gentle crackle of the fire in Ethan's study. Ethan sat in his favorite armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the flames dance. Amelia was curled up on the couch across from him, a book open in her lap, her hair loose around her shoulders. She was wearing one of his sweaters, an old, worn thing that was too big for her, and she looked more peaceful than she had in months. "You're staring," she said without looking up. "I'm admiring," Ethan corrected. "Same thing." He smiled and set down his glass. "Amelia." She looked up. "Yes?" "I've been thinking. About us. About the future." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I don't want to wait anymore. I've spent months fighting, fighting for my family, fighting
Chapter 148: The War Begins
The war room was a hive of controlled chaos. Tv displays flickered with real-time intelligence. Maps of the city, of the country, of the world, were overlaid with red markers, sightings of Vieri operatives, intercepted communications, financial transactions that traced back to the Sicilian crime family. The Black Division had been mobilized. Security at Silvercrest Manor had been tripled. And every ally the family had was being contacted, their loyalty tested, their support secured. Ethan stood at the center of it all, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the screens. "Status report," he said. Sable stepped forward. "The Vieri family has formally declared war. Don Massimo issued a statement to his allies this morning, a blood oath, invoking the old Sicilian traditions. He's mobilized his soldiers, his resources, his connections. The Triad has pledged their support. The Shadow Council has pledged theirs. We're facing a coordinated assault on multiple fronts." "What kind of assau
Chapter 147: The Tables Turn
The ballroom was frozen. Isabella's knife pressed against Ethan's throat, the blade cold and sharp, a thin line of blood welling up where it touched his skin. The guests were paralyzed, dignitaries and ambassadors, their faces pale with terror, their bodyguards frozen in place. The Black Division had their weapons drawn, but they couldn't risk a shot. Not with Isabella using Ethan as a human shield. Sable was calculating. Her gray eyes never left Isabella's face, watching for the slightest opening, the smallest mistake. Donald was positioning himself behind Isabella, moving slowly, silently, like a ghost. His hand was inside his jacket, his fingers wrapped around the grip of a concealed pistol. But Ethan didn't need them. He had been trained for this. The memory surfaced, Sable's voice, calm and precise, during one of their early sessions. "The best weapon is the one they don't know you have. A blade concealed in your sleeve. A move they won't expect. If you're ever taken hostag
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