The Richest God of War

8. Who Is He?

Richard had told Ruby to clean the room. He hadn't told her to hide Wilfred's death. He had other plans.

So when the date woke up, the hotel learned the news fast.

The Wade family's favorite son was dead. And he had died inside the Regal Hotel.

The manager panicked. He called Wilfred's father, Fletcher Wade, at once. If the hotel didn't clear its name quickly, everyone there would pay for it. The Wade family was powerful in Albany. Even Wilfred's guards had carried guns.

"Find him!" Fletcher roared when he heard. "Search everywhere! I'll make sure the animal who killed my son has no grave!" His voice shook with rage. "And the woman who was in the room with him? Bury her with my son!"

Wilfred had been cruel and proud, and his father was no better. The Wade family held most of the money in Albany and had friends in every big family.

Fletcher had barely finished shouting when his phone rang again. He looked at the screen, and his face changed.

Raymond Lawson.

Fletcher ruled Albany in the south, but he never ignored a call from Mr. Lawson. The Lawson family led the money world of the north. They were giants. Next to them, the Wades were only a local lord. If the Lawsons got angry, the Wades wouldn't die, but they would lose two thirds of their wealth, and their business would never leave Albany again.

*Why would he call me in the middle of the night?*

Fletcher answered fast. "Hello, Raymond."

"Hello, Fletcher. I heard you lost your son."

"Yes, but how do you know?" Fletcher froze. He had only just heard himself. How could a man far in the north already know?

"Never mind that. Your son is dead. Mourn him, and leave it there. If you chase this any further, your family may suffer greatly for it."

"What?!" The veins stood out on Fletcher's neck. The Wades were weaker than the Lawsons, but that didn't mean they could be bullied. Still, he swallowed his anger. "Raymond, what do you mean?"

"Tell the public your son got drunk and fell from the hotel. An accident. Nobody else is to blame. End it there."

"My son was murdered! Why call it an accident?"

Fletcher was furious, but he kept his head. A powerful man, hundreds of miles away, was calling in the dead of night to cover up a murder. Something was very wrong.

"Fletcher, I'll be honest. Your son brought this on himself. He offended a man he should never have touched. That man could destroy your whole family a thousand times over with a single word. If you don't want to follow your son to the grave, do as I say. Clean this up. Now."

Cold sweat soaked Fletcher's back.

*Who is this man? Who could make Raymond Lawson speak like this?*

"One more thing. A small company in Albany, Williams Clothing Company, applied to your bank for a loan. Approve it by tomorrow morning. That is also his order."

"Ray, who did my son offend?"

"Who?" Lawson gave a cold laugh. "You aren't worthy to know his name. That's all. Take care of yourself, Fletcher."

The line went dead.

***

The next morning, shouting woke Rosetta.

She didn't need to listen closely. It was her mother's voice, and the target was surely Richard.

She sighed. For a whole year she had heard this almost every day, and for a whole year Richard had taken it.

She had brought him into this family to escape trouble. It hadn't worked. Now the company might fall, and the whole family with it.

*The house is collapsing, and I've already dragged him down for a year. I can't hurt him anymore.*

She climbed out of bed, ready to face whatever came. And she had made a quiet plan. If the family couldn't be saved, she would take Richard to court and divorce him. At least he would escape before the crash.

She stepped out of her room.

Her mother was screaming at Richard again. But something was different.

Richard was sitting on the sofa, where he was never allowed to sit, calmly reading a newspaper while Mrs. Williams stood over him, pointing and cursing.

"Mom," Rosetta called as she came downstairs. "Why are you shouting so early?"

"Rosetta, look at this!" Mrs. Williams said. "Since when can this useless man sit on our sofa? And he's reading the paper! He didn't even make us breakfast!"

"Breakfast is in the kitchen," Richard said, eyes still on the paper. "If you're hungry, help yourself."

Rosetta stared. She blinked. She almost thought she was dreaming. Richard had never spoken to her mother like that.

Then Yvette walked out of the kitchen with a tray piled with fluffy pancakes, biscuits, and sausage gravy. She was stuffing her mouth as she walked.

"Mom, it's so good! You have to try it!" She pushed the tray into Rosetta's hands. "Sis, you're up! Eat!" Then she ignored her mother's glare and hurried back to the kitchen for another plate.

Rosetta looked at the food in her hands. Then she looked at Richard.

*What happened to him last night?*