Dumped on my anniversary, I activated the billionaire system

chapter 9

Damien’s smirk was sharp enough to cut glass, but the two meat-shields flanking him were what really gave his hand away.

They moved with that heavy, rolling gait of guys who actually killed people for a living, not just talked about it on the internet.

The gravel crunched under their expensive leather shoes as they stepped closer, completely blocking Julian’s path to the mansion doors.

"You think a few million dollars and a neat little medical trick makes you untouchable in this city?" Damien sneered, adjusting his cuffs to hide the fact that his hands were actually shaking.

"The Moretti family doesn't care about your bank account, Julian. By tomorrow, they’re going to feed you to the harbor rats, and I’ll be the one watching."

Julian didn’t even raise his voice, and he didn't take a step back.

He just looked at the two thugs with the same dead, bored expression he used when looking at a stain on the floor. "You brought street muscle to a private estate. That’s a breach of contract, Damien. And I hate breaches of contract."

The first thug, a massive guy with a scarred cheek, didn't bother with a warning. He just lunged forward, throwing a heavy right hook aimed straight at Julian’s jaw.

But Julian’s God-Level Medical Skills flared to life, overlaying his vision with a glowing anatomical map.

He didn't just see a fist coming at him; he saw the exact structural weakness in the guy's extended elbow and the exposed nerve cluster in his neck.

Before the thug’s fist could even connect, Julian stepped inside his guard.

He drove two stiff fingers directly into the soft hollow just below the guy's ear, simultaneously grabbing his extended wrist and twisting it exactly forty-five degrees past its natural limit.

*SNAP.*

The sound of the radius bone breaking echoed like a firecracker in the cold night air.

The thug let out a gurgling scream, his eyes rolling back in his head as his nervous system completely short-circuited from the vagus nerve strike.

He dropped to the gravel like a sack of wet cement, twitching and gasping for air.

The second thug froze for a split second, his eyes wide with shock, before he reached into his jacket and pulled out a switchblade. The blade clicked open, catching the moonlight.

Julian just sighed. He sidestepped the wild, desperate slash, grabbed the guy's wrist, and slammed the back of his head directly into the thug's nose.

Cartilage crunched, blood sprayed across the pristine white gravel, and the guy collapsed instantly, out cold before he even hit the ground.

The entire exchange took less than four seconds.

Julian calmly pulled a silk handkerchief from his tuxedo pocket, wiped a single drop of blood off his knuckles, and tossed the cloth onto the groaning mess at his feet.

He looked back at Damien, whose face had gone from pale to a terrifying, sickly shade of green.

"I don't care if they work for the Pope," Julian said, his voice smooth and completely devoid of empathy. "They trespassed on Reed property. Now, are we done playing games, or do you need me to break your legs too?"

Damien stumbled backward, his chest heaving as he stared at the two broken enforcers. His arrogance was completely shattered, replaced by panic.

"You... you just crippled the Moretti family's top guys. Do you have any idea what you've done? They’ll kill you! They’ll kill everyone you know!"

"Let them try," Julian said, pulling out his sleek, unbreakable phone. "But before you start crying to your mafia buddies, you might want to check your email. I sent you a little anniversary gift about ten minutes ago."

Damien blinked, his brain struggling to process the shift in conversation. With a trembling hand, he pulled out his own phone and opened his inbox.

There was a single email from the legal department of Croft Enterprises.

He tapped the screen, and as his eyes scanned the first few lines, the color completely drained from his face.

His knees actually buckled, and he had to grab the side of his armored SUV to keep from collapsing.

"What... what is this?" Damien choked out, his voice cracking. "Emergency shareholder meeting? Proxy vote? This is fake! You can't do this!"

"I hold a thirty percent controlling stake in Croft Enterprises, Damien," Julian said, stepping closer and looking down at the trembling heir.

"I bought it the second I signed those divorce papers. I called an emergency board vote while you were busy threatening me in my driveway. Your father stepped down, the board sided with the majority shareholder, and as of five minutes ago, you are no longer the CEO."

Julian leaned in, his voice dropping to a cold whisper.

"You're not the heir anymore. You're not even an employee. I just fired you, Damien. You’re completely broke, your family's country club is foreclosed, and your mafia friends are going to realize you can't pay their protection fees. You have nothing."

Damien let out a choked sob, sliding down the side of the SUV until he was sitting in the dirt, staring blankly at his phone as the reality of his total destruction crashed down on him. He was utterly ruined.

Right at that moment, the heavy oak doors of the mansion swung open, and Evelyn Reed stepped out onto the porch.

She took in the scene—the two bleeding thugs, the broken heir sitting in the dirt, and Julian standing perfectly calm in his tailored tuxedo.

"Julian?" she called out, her icy voice laced with genuine concern. "Is everything alright out here?"

Julian turned to look at her, opening his mouth to reply, but before he could even speak, the familiar blue holographic screen suddenly flared to life in his vision, blocking his view of the world.

*[Ding! Host has successfully eliminated a major rival and asserted absolute dominance.]*

*[Triggering Emergency Arc Progression Choice!]*