Time unknowingly ticked to 9:50 AM. With negotiations concluded, William, in high spirits, and Charles, though a bit disgruntled yet inwardly pleased, walked out of the study and back into the living room.
After just one shot (figuratively speaking) during their conversation, William had secured promises worth $300 million in real estate, antiques, jewelry, and other liquid assets from Charles. Adding to that, the Château Margaux wine estate and the Formula 1 team, his earnings from two hours of negotiation were worth at least $1 billion.
Of course, this windfall was contingent upon Charles successfully winning the inheritance battle—a prospect rife with uncertainty.
The bulk of the Cavendish family's wealth was tied up in corporate stocks. Had there been more liquid assets, William might have squeezed even more out of Charles. But targeting stocks posed its own complications. Unless William purchased them outright, even if Charles wanted to gift them, the Cavendish family board and the French government would likely object.
As William entered the living room, he was greeted by Jesse, who stood up and grabbed his arm, feigning an annoyed tone. "Darling, you're so rude! How could you leave your guests and disappear for so long?"
"It's not a problem," interjected Nick Spitz, shaking his head in reassurance. "We came unannounced. We're the ones imposing."
William kissed Jesse on the cheek, then turned to the Spitzer couple and apologized. "My sincerest apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Spitz. It was indeed impolite of me to leave you waiting. However," he glanced at his watch, "it's almost ten o'clock. Now's the perfect time to head to the rooftop terrace to watch today's parade."
He then turned to Charles. "Charles, could you escort our guests to the terrace? Jesse, Abigail, and I will prepare some refreshments and wine so we can enjoy the parade with a drink in hand."
"Of course," Charles said without hesitation. The idea of sipping wine personally delivered by William himself made it impossible for him to refuse. He led the slightly overwhelmed Spitz couple to the terrace.
About thirty minutes later, amidst the lively atmosphere of watching the parade, the chime of a phone rang from William's pocket.
Feigning urgency, he stepped aside and pulled out his phone, pretending to answer an important call. After a brief exchange, he turned to the group and said, "Apologies, everyone. I need to go downstairs to receive an important package. Jesse, Abigail, could you please take care of our guests?"
He kissed both Jesse and Abigail on the cheeks, and under the astonished gazes of the Spitz couple and Charles' envious glare, William left the terrace.
Locking himself in his study, William opened a portal to the underground levels of his Oxford estate. There, he quickly swapped his tailored attire for an inconspicuous outfit that looked like it had come from a flea market. Adding a trendy mask—now a common sight in Paris due to the recent chaos—he was ready.
Prepared for what was to come, he opened another portal, stepping into a small apartment he had rented a few days earlier just a kilometer from the French National Bank.
While the festivities on the Champs-Élysées showcased a vibrant and celebratory Paris, the rest of the city was far from peaceful.
Since yesterday, Paris had descended into chaos, with tensions reaching a boiling point at the gates of several major banks.
Merging with the crowd of protesters, William quietly maneuvered his way toward the French National Bank. Inside the bank, a fierce gunfight had broken out between Santa (Saint Christmas), Sean Briar of the CIA, and the armed team led by Otero Yusuf.
Two days earlier, the bombing that killed Michael Mason—a petty thief with American citizenship—had sparked outrage in the Paris CIA station. The agency was hell-bent on uncovering the truth.
Despite Santa releasing Sean Briar after their initial encounter, Sean's boss, Karen Dacre, had insisted that he continue pursuing Santa to retrieve the stolen intel. This relentless chase resulted in several cat-and-mouse games across Paris, with Santa eventually capturing Sean once again.
Feigning frustration, Santa interrogated Sean, pretending to extract vital information. Once convinced that Sean wasn't working against him, Santa disclosed that his target was the remnants of Amir Barkawi's terror network.
This revelation caused a stir. The CIA, eager to shift attention away from their agency and mitigate tensions with the French Ministry of Interior, passed this intel directly to Minister Victor Gael.
However, Victor, the orchestrator behind the French National Bank heist, couldn't afford any slip-ups. He silenced Karen with a single bullet to the head—a cold and decisive act caught on camera by Gunnar, who was stationed over 200 meters away.
William had deliberately chosen not to use spider drones for close-up footage, ensuring plausible deniability. Any evidence captured by the drones could raise suspicions, such as why the drones hadn't intervened to save Karen.
Inside the bank, Sean Briar watched the video of Karen's murder on Santa's phone. Anger and grief coursed through him as Santa vented. "What kind of idiot was your boss, going straight to Victor Gael with this intel? Didn't she know the risks? If not for our people tailing Victor, no one would've known how she died."
Sean clenched his fists, his grief barely contained. "You don't understand. Karen and Victor were friends for over a decade. They even saved each other's lives once."
"Shut up!" Santa barked, his anger palpable. "That so-called friendship got her killed. Haven't you ever been taught in your line of work that trust is a liability? Now what? Your boss is dead, my mission is on the verge of failure, and I might have to go into hiding just to avoid being silenced by my own agency."
"No, we still have a chance," Sean said, his resolve hardening. "If Victor acted so hastily, it means his team—the Special Operations Unit—is currently carrying out a critical operation.
"If we can track their location, we'll find out their target. Whether we intervene or catch them red-handed, it'll be enough to complete your mission. And it'll give me a shot at avenging Karen."
Without waiting for Santa's response, Sean called the Paris CIA station and relayed everything to Karen's deputy. Within minutes, the Special Operations Unit's current location—inside the French National Bank—was transmitted to Sean's phone.
"No wonder Paris has been in turmoil for the past two days," Santa said, piecing things together. "These bastards are targeting the bank's funds.
"With that kind of money, they could replicate what happened in London here in Paris, or even worse, fund attacks across multiple cities."
"Exactly," Sean agreed. "And if these maniacs get their hands on that money, no one in the Western world will be safe."
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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