THE SUPREME KING OF WEALTH

AGATHA WHITE'S RECKONING

As he tried to think about the unexpected call, the noise around him pulled his attention back to the scene.

A bright smile spread across Clara’s face as she hurried forward, her heels clicking quickly against the polished ground. “My love!” she called out warmly, her voice filled with excitement.

Senator Gatlin barely had time to take another step before she reached him.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

Then, without hesitation, she pulled back slightly and placed a warm kiss on his cheek.

The crowd erupted.

Claps filled the air. Cameras flashed wildly. Reporters pushed forward, eager to capture the moment.

“What a perfect pair!”

“They look amazing together!”

“Senator Gatlin and Ms. Clara—this is huge!”

Connor stood a distance away from the hotel garden, watching everything unfold.

His gaze didn’t shift.

The woman he had given everything for was now smiling in another man’s arms, glowing with a happiness he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Laughter and whispers surrounded him again.

“Isn’t that her failed husband?”

“Look at him. He’s just standing there.”

“Nonentity.”

Connor’s face remained calm, but deep inside, something tightened.

He watched as Clara led Senator Gatlin toward the VIP seating area, her hand lightly resting on his arm. Mrs. Sam followed closely behind, smiling proudly, while Mason laughed with a group of elites.

Not one of them looked back.

Connor slowly turned.

The cheers behind him grew louder, echoing through the night.

He walked steadily toward his Mercedes S-Class, his steps firm, controlled. The sound of applause still followed him, mixed with the hum of conversation and laughter.

He reached the car, opened the door, and paused for a brief second.

Then he looked back.

From where he stood, he could see the garden clearly. Senator Gatlin was now seated among the VIPs, with Clara beside him. She leaned slightly toward him, speaking with a smile, as if Connor had never existed.

Connor’s eyes darkened faintly.

Without another word, he got into the car.

The door shut quietly.

The engine started.

And within seconds, he drove off.

Minutes later, Connor arrived home.

The Samuel Mansion stood tall and luxurious under the dim night sky, its lights glowing softly. It was still a beautiful place, filled with everything money could buy.

But tonight, it felt empty.

Connor parked and stepped out, his movements slow but steady. He walked inside without hesitation, still dressed in his suit.

The door closed behind him.

Silence.

He walked to the sitting room and dropped onto the couch, his body sinking into the cushion. He didn’t bother removing his jacket or loosening his tie.

His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

Then, slowly, his mind drifted again.

He remembered the night he signed away his real estate portfolio, even his own luxury mansion… all to save her failing hotel, out of love.

He remembered her tears.

Her trembling voice.

“I won’t forget this, Connor… I’ll never leave you…”

His jaw tightened slightly.

He hadn’t done it because of her words.

He did it because he loved her deeply.

And now… she had everything.

And he had nothing.

A faint breath escaped his lips.

“So… they never really valued me,” he murmured under his breath. “Not her… not her family.”

The words hung in the quiet room.

Then—

A sharp knock broke the silence.

Connor didn’t move immediately.

Another knock followed, louder this time.

“You can come in,” he said calmly.

The door swung open forcefully.

An older woman stepped in, rain still clinging to her coat, her face tight with anger. In her arms, she carried a small, lifeless puppy.

Mrs. Agatha White.

Mrs. Sam’s closest friend.

She lived just behind the house, always watching, always interfering.

Her presence alone carried accusation.

“Connor!” she snapped. “What have you done?!”

Connor slowly turned his head, expression unreadable.

“What are you talking about?” he asked evenly.

“Don’t act innocent!” Mrs. White marched closer, voice sharp enough to cut through the room. “You killed my puppy!”

Connor’s gaze briefly dropped to the motionless animal, then returned to her face.

“I didn’t kill anything,” he said calmly.

Mrs. White let out a bitter laugh, shaking with anger.

“Of course you’d say that,” she snapped. “A man like you always denies everything—even when you’re worthless.”

Her grip tightened on the puppy.

“You hit it with your car! You were the only one driving through that street!”

Connor slowly straightened.

There was no rush in him. No panic. Only control.

“Mrs. White,” he said quietly, “you’ve already told me why you think I did it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Because I saw you!”

“No,” Connor replied, voice steady. “Because of my position.”

That line cut the room differently.

Connor remained silent, his eyes cold.

Mrs. White’s expression sharpened immediately.

“Let me be clear,” she said, taking another step forward, her voice dripping with scorn. “A man who lost everything, who lives under a woman's roof and depends on her to survive—do you honestly think people will take him seriously? Do you honestly think they'll see him as important? No. They'll see a man who fell so low he couldn't even stand on his own two feet.”

Connor’s tone remained unchanged.

“So you're not accusing me because of the puppy,” he said quietly. “You're really accusing me because of my position—the same one you want to deny. But in doing so, you end up making the very same accusation based on that position.”

Mrs. White scoffed.

“A man with nothing left has nothing to lose. Why wouldn't you do something like this?!”

Connor exhaled slowly.

He didn’t raise his voice.

“What does my personal situation have to do with a dead puppy?” he asked.

That question hit harder than her shouting.

For a second, she hesitated.

Then anger covered it.

“Everything!” she snapped. “Everything has to do with it! You think I didn't see you? A man with no standing, no contribution, no respect—why wouldn’t you be the one to do something like this?!”

Connor watched her carefully.

Not offended or even shaken.

Just observing.

“You’re not looking for truth,” he said calmly. “You’re looking for someone convenient.”

Mrs. White’s jaw tightened.

“Don’t twist this!”

“I’m not twisting anything,” Connor replied. “I’m stating facts. You didn’t see my car hit the puppy.”

Her lips pressed together.

“You don’t know when it died.”

Silence.

“And you have no evidence.”

More silence.

Each line stripped away emotion and left only logic.

That made her angrier.

“Stop talking like you’re innocent of this!” she shouted. “You think your calm voice makes you innocent?!”

Connor tilted his head slightly.

“No,” he said. “It just keeps me accurate.”

That only fueled her more.

“You sold everything you had!” she fired. “Now you walk around like you still matter! But people like you don’t matter anymore!”

Connor finally responded, voice low.

“That is still exactly why you’re accusing me.”

Mrs. White froze slightly.

Then her anger surged again; she felt exposed, with nothing to hold onto.

“I’ll surely tell Mrs. Sam and Clara everything!” she shouted. “Let’s see how long you last here!”

Connor remained calm.

His silence wasn’t weakness but certainty.

Inside, he already understood that it wasn't about the puppy's death—it was his current situation that had given rise to such an accusation.

Since he sold everything, people had been treating him like this—blaming him, insulting him, looking down on him over the smallest things.

Even things he didn’t do.

Mrs. White took another step forward, voice sharp with finality.

“I’ll make sure they seize everything you have left! Including that car! Either you bring my puppy back to life or you pay for a new one!”

Connor leaned back slightly.

“I won’t argue with you again,” he said coldly.

Mrs. White stared at him, boiling inside.

“You think silence will save you?!”

Connor looked at her directly.

“No,” he said. “I stayed quiet because I’ve already defended everything that needs to be defended—with logic and facts, not emotion.”

“Fine!” Mrs White hissed. “We’ll see what happens when they hear about this!”

For the first time, her voice faltered slightly. Then she forced it back—realizing everything had already backfired on her.

“You’ll surely regret this, Useless man!”

She turned sharply and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

As she left with shame and bitterness, she had no idea that something even more humiliating awaited her ahead.

The house fell silent again.

Connor exhaled slowly.

He let her words pass through him like air.

After a few seconds of silence as she left, Connor’s mind drifted back to the earlier call.