No Fortune Can Buy His Mercy

Chapter 001

The cold wind cut like a blade across the barren hillside.

A young man in a black military overcoat knelt before a crumbling, solitary grave, his face utterly devoid of expression. His name was Elias Vance.

Beside him stood a towering figure in full military dress, a man whose powerful frame rose to nearly six-foot-three, with shoulders broad enough to block the wind itself. On his epaulets gleamed two stars, the insignia of a lieutenant general. A man like this would command attention anywhere he went, would draw every eye in any room he entered. Yet here and now, he stood at silent, rigid attention like a personal sentinel for Elias Vance.

The grave was a pitiful thing. The cheap headstone was webbed with cracks and choked with moss, bearing only a simple inscription: Arthur Vance.

At Elias's knees, scattered across the frozen ground, lay a handful of crumpled newspapers. Their headlines screamed in faded ink:

"Cresthaven billionaire Arthur Vance embroiled in assault scandal. Hundreds of billions in assets hang in the balance. His fiancée may be the biggest beneficiary."

"Vanguard Conglomerate chairman's fiancée Vivian Sterling exposes husband Arthur Vance's criminal conduct in act of righteous justice!"

"Cresthaven's wealthiest man Arthur Vance takes his own life to escape prosecution. Family vanishes without a trace. Fiancée Vivian Sterling named sole legal heir!"

Every single headline circled the same name, the same man now rotting beneath this forgotten patch of earth.

"I'm late," Elias whispered, his voice barely louder than the wind. "Three years too late." He pressed his palms flat against the cold dirt before the headstone. "Today I swear it here, on everything I am. This debt will be repaid tenfold. Vivian Sterling will die."

He had been deep in the field for three years, fighting wars on distant frontiers for the Federation, when his brother's final letter had reached him only half a month ago.

"Elias, my brother. By the time you read this, I will be dead. Vivian threatened your niece's life, and I had no choice but to comply. After I'm gone, you must not seek revenge. The conspiracy behind this runs deeper than you can imagine, backed by forces far more terrifying than one woman."

"I sent you to Valoria City to enlist seven years ago. I know you must have suffered greatly, and I hope you won't blame me for it. What kind of brother wouldn't want his younger sibling to achieve something extraordinary?"

"I, Arthur Vance, am destined to die an unfilial son. Our parents, I leave in your care. My only regret is that I will never see your face again."

"Arthur Vance. Final words."

As the memory of that blood-written letter surged through his mind, Elias's expression remained stone-cold, but at the corner of his eye, something warm and wet traced a slow path down his cheek.

The towering lieutenant general named Gideon heard the faint sound of water striking earth. He glanced sideways and froze. Tears were sliding down Elias Vance's face, one after another, falling silently into the dirt before the grave.

The sight shook him to his core, and his iron-tower frame gave an involuntary tremor.

Marshal Vance was crying.

This was the man whose military exploits had become legend across the Federation. Barely past his youth and already bearing five-star epaulets on his shoulders, the only five-star general the Federation had ever produced. Every one of those stars had been earned in blood, carved out on battlefields littered with the corpses of a thousand enemies.

In the Federation's armed forces, who did not know the name Marshal Vance? Even decorated sector commanders stammered and sweated when reporting to him.

When the Crimson Cartel's warlord had threatened to massacre civilians in the Western Badlands and sent two thousand mercenaries to the border as a show of force, it was Elias Vance who sat alone at the frontier and stared them down. Two thousand hardened killers froze in their tracks, not daring to advance a single step. Victory without a single shot fired.

When the Sunrise Empire had provoked the Federation over Sentinel Island, Elias had issued a single statement: if even one of their soldiers set foot on that island, he would personally eliminate every senior officer in their military. That one sentence sent an entire military superpower scrambling to withdraw its fleet in panic.

This man, whose single word could shift the fate of nations and silence entire armies, was now weeping in the dirt before a ruined grave.

The moment shattered when two heavyset men came stomping up the hill.

"Who the hell are you? You've got a death wish, coming here to pay respects to Rat Vance!"

"You think you can visit this mutt's grave? Keep it up and you'll be buried right next to him!"

Their voices were cold and hostile, their eyes sweeping over Elias and Gideon as though they were already looking at corpses.

Elias's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Still kneeling, still facing the headstone, he murmured under his breath, "Rat Vance?"

"That's right," one of the men sneered, catching the whisper. A grin split his face. "That's the name Miss Sterling gave him. Got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

The other spoke with ice in his tone. "Miss Sterling made it clear a long time ago. No one is to visit this dog's grave. You ignored the warning, which means you don't take the Sterling family seriously. And that's a mistake you won't live to regret."

Gideon's eyes flashed with murderous cold. In the entire Federation military, no living soul dared speak to Elias Vance this way.

Elias rose slowly to his feet. His face was dark as thunderheads before a storm. He straightened the collar of his military overcoat and turned toward the car without looking at either man.

"I don't want to see these two again."

"Yes, Marshal!"

"Son of a bitch, did I say you could leave?" one of the men snarled, lunging forward. "Are you deaf? Didn't you hear me talking to you?"

The other hesitated, then pulled out his phone and began dialing to report this to the Sterling family.

Gideon's head lifted, and in that instant he erupted like a wrathful god unleashed.

Elias had barely reached the car when two sharp cracks of shattering bone split the air, followed immediately by agonized screams. Then came the sound of heavy, measured footsteps approaching from behind.

Gideon extended his massive hand toward Elias, a phone resting in his palm. "Marshal. This is the call he made."

"Hello?"

Elias took the phone. His voice was flat, colorless.

"Hello? Aren't you two supposed to be watching the gravesite?" A young man's voice came through, casual and amused. "It's my old man's birthday today. While you're there, splash some chicken blood on that bastard's grave. Give Rat Vance a taste of something fresh."

Elias's eyes grew colder with every word.

"Actually, forget it. Just smash his headstone. Every time I think about my sister wasting all those years with that piece of trash, it makes me sick." The voice paused, then laughed.

"You're celebrating a birthday," Elias said quietly, each syllable laced with killing intent that could freeze the air itself, "by desecrating his grave." A beat of silence. "The Sterling family deserves everything that's coming."

"Who the fuck are you? You think you can talk to me like that? You must be looking to die—"

Elias said nothing more. His fingers closed around the phone and crushed it to fragments in his fist. He pulled open the car door and climbed inside.

Gideon was behind the wheel in seconds, and the vehicle tore away from the hillside.

The moment the engine turned over, a woman's voice filled the car through the radio broadcast, smooth and practiced.

"My late husband Arthur Vance passed nearly three years ago. One month from now marks the third anniversary of his death."

"During his lifetime, my late husband abused his authority for personal gain, committed countless acts of corruption, hollowed out the conglomerate's funds, conspired with cronies to force out shareholders, and even committed the unforgivable crime of sexual assault. Thank heavens justice prevailed and conscience endured, allowing me to uncover his trail of atrocities in time to put a stop to them."

"Rather than face legal consequences, rather than confront the enormity of his sins, he chose the coward's way out and put a gun in his own mouth!"

"Fortunately, with the unwavering support of my family and the injection of new talent into the company over these past two years, Vanguard Conglomerate has returned to its former glory! At the insistence of our board of directors, I have reluctantly assumed the position of chairwoman. From this day forward, I pledge on behalf of Vanguard Conglomerate that we will operate within the law and will never repeat the criminal, society-endangering behavior of my late husband Arthur Vance!"

Gideon's expression twisted with barely contained fury. He reached for the radio dial.

But Elias raised a single finger. "Leave it," he said coldly. "Drive."

Gideon's voice came out low and hard. "The venom of that woman's heart knows no limit. Marshal, let me handle this. Give me the word and I will level Cresthaven today. Every last person connected to Arthur's death will answer for it. I'll see justice done for him."

Elias finally stirred, lifting his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost gentle. "My brother once told me that family matters should never be placed in another's hands. From the time I was small, he always made me resolve things on my own." He paused, and something shifted behind his eyes. "I arrived too late. I've already failed as a son of the Vance family. If I cannot avenge my own blood with my own hands, I'd be worse than an animal. I'll do this myself."

His gaze settled on the road ahead, cold and absolute.

"Let's go. We have a birthday to attend."

*****

Elysium Hotel rose against the Cresthaven skyline like a monument to wealth and excess.

Today, the Sterling family, the most powerful clan in all of Cresthaven, was hosting the seventieth birthday celebration of their patriarch, Reginald Sterling. Every power broker, every family of influence in the city had turned out to pay their respects.

Reginald Sterling was beaming, his face flushed with satisfaction and pride. Ever since his daughter Vivian Sterling had seized control from Arthur Vance three years ago, the Sterling family's ascent had been unstoppable, a rocket trajectory straight into the stratosphere of wealth and dominance.

Now, in all of Cresthaven, who would dare utter a single word against the Sterling name?

The once-mighty Arthur Vance had been reduced to nothing more than a forgotten stepping stone beneath their feet.

Elias and Gideon arrived at the hotel entrance. Elias tilted his head back slightly, taking in the gilded facade, the towering columns of glass and marble, and for just a moment his eyes seemed to lose focus, as though seeing something far beyond the building itself.

A security guard stationed at the door noticed him standing motionless and approached with a frown. "Invitation, please. If you don't have one, move along. Don't block the path for our distinguished guests. This is Old Man Sterling's seventieth birthday celebration. If Miss Sterling takes offense, that's a consequence you cannot afford."

Gideon was about to bark a response when a voice cut in from behind them, dripping with contempt.

"Move it. Good dogs don't block the road."

Elias and Gideon turned. A young man in a crisp white suit stood there, perhaps in his early twenties, his face twisted with impatience and arrogance.

The security guard's demeanor changed instantly at the sight of him, snapping to attention before melting into an obsequious smile. " Mr. Carmichael, welcome! Please, right this way!"