The invincible Tony Clark

chapter 9- Checkmate 2

Liam returned from the alcove with a pale, shaken Vivian trailing closely behind him. Looking one last time into Harold Foster’s calculating eyes, Tony turned and walked away without a word.

As he crossed paths with the returning pair, Tony deliberately drove his shoulder hard into Liam’s chest, knocking his cousin a step back.

Without offering an apology or even a glance, Tony brushed right past Vivian in icy silence, leaving her frozen in place as the weight of his complete indifference crushed her pride.

Rubbing his bruised shoulder, Liam hurried to stand beside his father and leaned in close. "Dad, is the plan still on?"

Harold gave a subtle nod, keeping his eyes fixed on the main stage. "Plan A—turning father and son against each other—is already in motion, and Plan B has just been initiated. Before this night is over, the entire Ragnar empire will belong only to us."

Up on the grand stage, the orchestra fell silent as Daniel tapped the microphone, drawing the attention of every billionaire, politician, and celebrity in the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Daniel’s voice boomed proudly across the ballroom. "Tonight, after decades of searching, my bloodline is finally whole again. Please join me in welcoming my long-lost son and sole heir—Tony Ragnar!"

Thunderous applause erupted from the crowd as cameras flashed like lightning. Climbing the marble steps to the stage, Tony wore a polite, gracious smile for the cameras, yet inside his chest, his heart was as cold as winter ice.

All because of your greed, Tony thought, looking at the man calling himself his father. Because you wanted my mother's fortune for yourself, I was deprived of a mother's love. I could have had a normal childhood like everyone else, instead of growing up nameless in the gutter.

Stepping up to the microphone, Tony raised a hand to quiet the cheering crowd. "Thank you all for being here tonight to share in this moment with my family."

Beaming with pride, Daniel stepped forward and rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder. "Wait, there is more! Tonight isn't just a reunion. Right here, in front of the entire world, I am officially transferring full ownership and control of the Ragnar Dynasty to my son!"

Gasps of shock rippled through the ballroom as Chris stepped onto the stage carrying a leather binder containing the official transfer deeds and a gold fountain pen. Setting the legal documents on the glass podium, the old butler bowed respectfully.

Without hesitation, Tony picked up the pen and signed his new name across the bottom of the contract, legally sealing his control over fifty trillion dollars. As the crowd roared in approval, Daniel pulled him into a tight, emotional embrace.

"Everyone," Daniel announced into the microphone, "behold the new Chief Executive Officer of the Ragnar Empire—Tony Ragnar!"

Held in his father's arms, Tony’s mind flashed back through years of misery—growing up an orphan on the freezing streets, being bullied and treated like subhuman trash by the Clarks, and losing Vivian's late father, the only man who had ever shown him genuine kindness.

Every single person who could have given him a happy life had been torn away from him by the monster hugging him right now.

Fine, Tony thought, his eyes turning glacial as he pulled back from the embrace. *Since you took everything from me, I'll take everything from you.*

"Bring out the champagne!" Daniel called out joyously. "Let us drink to the new era of the Ragnar Dynasty!"

A gloved server stepped onto the stage holding a silver tray with two crystal flutes. Taking a glass for himself and handing the other to Tony, Daniel raised his drink toward the cheering crowd.

Down by the edge of the stage, Harold Foster’s smirk stretched into a wild, triumphant grin as he watched Daniel bring the rim of the poisoned glass toward his lips—

BANG!

A deafening gunshot shattered the celebration, and a bullet slammed straight into Tony’s chest.

BANG!

A second shot struck him violently, spinning him off his feet and sending him crashing onto the stage floor as his champagne glass shattered into a million pieces.

Instant pandemonium broke out across the ballroom. Screaming guests dove beneath banquet tables while dishes and crystal crashed to the floor.

"Tony!" Daniel’s glass slipped from his fingers as he dropped to his knees beside his son's bleeding body, pressing his bare hands frantically against Tony’s chest to stop the blood. "Somebody call a doctor! My son has been shot!"

Suddenly, Daniel froze. His breath hitched, and thick, dark blood began pouring violently from his nose and mouth. Clutching at his own throat as his veins turned black, the patriarch of the Ragnar family convulsed once and collapsed lifelessly across the stage.

"Master Ragnar!" Chris’s horrified scream echoed over the chaos as he sprinted toward the stage. "Security, lock down the estate immediately! Nobody leaves this building!"

Back in the shadows near the pillars, Liam grabbed his father’s sleeve, grinning from ear to ear in wicked excitement. "Dad, look! Our plan worked! They're both dead!"

Harold, however, wasn't smiling. His face had gone as white as a sheet, his eyes wide with confusion and dread. "No... it didn't."

"What do you mean?" Liam frowned.

"I didn't order any gunman to shoot Tony," Harold whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at Daniel’s corpse, "and Daniel never even drank from that glass! The toxin wasn't ingested—someone else orchestrated this entire thing and used contact poison on Tony's clothes!"

Suddenly, Tony’s mocking words from earlier echoed inside Harold’s skull.

I'd rather be intoxicated and invincible. Sounds like the best combo to me.

Then, in a flash of horrifying realization, Harold remembered how Tony had deliberately bumped hard into Liam’s chest right before walking onto the stage.

"No..." Lunging at his own son, Harold tore open Liam’s white suit jacket and plunged his hand into the inner pocket. When he pulled his hand back out, his fingers were clutching a half-empty glass syringe still dripping with traces of the lethal toxin.

Tony had stolen the poison from Harold's planted server and slipped the murder weapon straight into Liam's pocket.

Breathing heavily as cold sweat drenched his spine, Harold slowly raised his terrified eyes toward the stage.

There, lying in a pool of fake blood atop a bulletproof vest, Tony slowly turned his head, locked eyes with his pale uncle through the chaos, and moved his curved lips with a cold, ruthless smirk.

Checkmate.