Last Descendant Of Money

Four.

Edgar leaned back on his Plume Blanche diamond-encrusted sofa. He had to admit that the last thing he wanted was to go back to Patricia's house.

He enjoyed life without having to deal with Patricia and her mother's nagging. Edgar smirked at the thought of Patricia and her mother. Since he left, they had been moving from one disaster. The man, Patricia had divorced him to get married to, left her. Of course, as a businessman, the last thing he wanted was a liability.

"If you continue relaxing all day, you would never get to at least avenge your family's death and you'd increase the chance of him finding you."

Edgar frowned. He hated Lucas' voice and that was because it was always ringing in his ear whenever he did something he should not do.

"So you think me letting rude and good for nothing people mistreat me is the best way to stay away from the eyes of my family's murderer."

"Exactly."

Edgar rolled his eyes. He had listened to Lucas in the past when he asked him to disguise himself as a church rat until the one who had killed his entire family was found. He would not do it again. After all, Lucas was not his boss. The reverse was the case.

"I'm not doing it," Edgar said with an air of finality.

"You have to."

"I don't have to. If I was to be found, then it would have happened a long time ago but it did not. By the way, I think it's high time I stopped protecting myself from someone who I'm pretty sure I'm stronger than. He should bring it on. I'm ready for him."

"You can only be ready for him if you know him. If he knows who you are and you don't know who he is, that would be a disaster. You'd be done for."

Edgar glared at him. "No one dares challenge me. He is a nobody and that's why he has been hiding."

"Remember, he killed your entire family, your father who is a demigod included." Lucas stopped to watch Edgar's face. "Whoever is able to kill a demigod is no ordinary person. You have to be very careful. He wants to kill you. Don't let him."

Edgar relaxed on his chair and scoffed. "He can try. The fact that he could kill my father does not mean he can do the same to me."

"Just listen to me and don't be reckless. I promised your grandmother to take care of you. Don't make it hard for me."

"So you want me to act as a coward for the rest of my life," Edgar thundered. "I'm sorry I'm not doing that."

"Okay. Don't do it. Let everyone know how much you're truly worth. Let them know you're the richest man in the world. Let them know that you're the grandson of the god of money himself. Then, your family's murderer can sneak into your life and try to take a place in your life. After all, you don't know what he looks like. He can come as a random person in your life and fucking kill you. Think about your grandma. That woman lost her insanity so you can't be found. For her to have done that, he is no one to be toyed with."

"So acting like I beg for a living would help me?"

"The last thing he would think that you would do is beg to eat because despite how you barely escaped, he most probably knows that you can never lack money. He knows that you know what he did to your family and he knows you would come for him. So, until you have found out where he is and what he looks like, control yourself."

"And why should I listen to you?"

"Because you would not want your grandmother's sacrifice to be a waste."

Edgar frowned.

Once again, Lucas was able to talk him into doing what he wanted him to do. It was annoying.

"I would only consider doing what you're asking of me because of my grandma."

"Very good. You can start today. I know of-"

"I did not say I would do it. I said I would consider it."

Lucas scoffed. "You're definitely doing it."

Lucas was right, because one week later, Edgar was behind a counter, taking people's orders. Somewhere nice, most were not. He hated the job because sometimes the manager made him wear the ice cream costume which to him was stupid. People came to the ice cream parlor to buy ice cream not to see an overgrown man wearing one.

Lucas' stupid plan had ruined his life.

"Ice cream scooper."

Edgar frowned. That was his call and nothing was more annoying. He was the son of a demigod and the grandson of a god. Why on earth should he be tagged ice cream scooper?

"Good day," Edgar said dryly, not bothering to feign a smile at least. "What flavor-"

"Shut the fuck up. No one asked you to talk. I'd tell you what I want when I want it."

Edgar looked down at the person who had just spoken to him. It was a young boy of about 10 years old— the same age he was when his entire family was killed.

"Manners. You don't have to look down at people below you."

Edgar turned to the woman who had brought the boy. Who was below who? He did not know what annoyed him more— the boy's rudeness or the mother's senseless way of chiding her son.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Edgar looked at the boy and gave him a creepy smile. "When I was your age, a strange man with a face no one can recognize came to my house and killed my family."

"That's a crazy thing to say to a child," The woman said, glowering at him.

"Saying a man, old enough to have a son your son's age is below your son, is a crazy thing to say too," Edgar replied.

"Creep," The woman spat. "Wait till I tell your boss what you did. You'd be back to the streets where you belong." Having said this, she led her son toward the exit of the ice cream parlor.

The boy protested against not getting an ice cream like he wanted to and the mother tried to shoosh him.

"Don't worry, we will get him back for not letting you get an ice cream," Edgar heard her say. "He would be back to the streets, where he belongs in no time."

It wasn't the first time he had heard that, and it only meant that he'd be losing the job he didn't need.

Edgar frowned. "The bad news was that he would have to look for a new job. Well, that wasn't a problem. He'd just offer to get underpaid. The money wasn't necessary after all and who wouldn't want to have something at a lesser cost."

And, of course, if the manager of the ice parlor fires him for teaching a naughty child a lesson, he would be getting a taste of his wrath.