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Henry drove his old Cadillac once again to the mansion district of Montecito in Santa Barbara County, California.
Even though he was driving himself this time, his mood was no different from last time—equally unpleasant.
The mansion listed on the invitation was even more extravagant than that of the overweight Black state senator he had visited before. The garden alone was likely more than twice the size.
The difference was that last time, the senator knew he had stirred up trouble, so he had stationed numerous heavily armed guards. In the end, it hadn't mattered—they were all wiped out by the Continental.
This time, James Arden's estate didn't have that many visible guards. The pathways were simply well-lit, ensuring no one lost their way.
That didn't mean security was lax. In just a few minutes after passing through the front gate, Henry had already spotted numerous surveillance cameras—covering nearly every angle without blind spots.
The Mellon family's Oak Spring Farm operated similarly—loose on the outside, tight on the inside. Not like the cartel compounds in movies, with armed men patrolling everywhere, but certainly not defenseless either.
As Henry approached the gate, the iron bars opened automatically—no need to get out, press a bell, or verify identity. It was a subtle but effective show of control, far more refined than simply blocking entry.
He drove all the way up to the mansion and parked near the side. As soon as he stepped out and removed the key, a butler in a tailcoat emerged from the entrance—as if his arrival had been precisely timed.
"Mr. Henry Brown. My master has been expecting you. Please follow me."
"Of course." Since the invitation was polite, Henry responded in kind.
At the same time, however, he activated his full suite of super senses, scanning the mansion.
Thirty-seven men. Nineteen women. And… two vampires.
The distinction came not just from body shape, but primarily from body temperature. Women generally radiated slightly less heat due to higher fat content. As for vampires—their temperature was close to that of a corpse.
So, they're not here with good intentions.
As for what he glimpsed in part of the basement—something straight out of hell—Henry chose not to dwell on it. Even a glance was enough to make him uncomfortable.
Prepared, Henry followed into what appeared to be a dining hall. The massive table at the center could easily seat twenty or thirty people.
At the head sat a young-looking man and woman, both with refined features and impeccable posture—too young-looking, in fact. Along the walls stood over a dozen large men in black suits.
They seemed to be trying to recreate a Godfather-like atmosphere—but it came off slightly awkward.
Still, the pair at the head lacked the restlessness of youth. Instead, they exuded a calm far beyond their apparent age… along with a hint of excitement.
If they weren't vampires, Henry might have praised the old-money families for raising such successors. Unfortunately—human nature.
He wasn't seated at the far end of the table. With several large floral arrangements in the way, he wouldn't even be able to see the hosts from there.
Instead, the butler guided him to a seat near the head—clearly a place of honor.
"Mr. Brown," the butler announced, "this is my master, Mr. James Arden, and his wife, Mrs. Lilith Arden."
Turning back, he added, "My lord, Mr. Henry Brown has arrived." Then he stepped aside.
"Mr. Brown, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," James Arden said, extending his hand warmly.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Arden." Henry accepted the handshake.
The moment their hands met, a crushing force gripped Henry's right hand. If not for his steel-like body, his bones would have been shattered.
Henry didn't retaliate. Arden quickly released him, smiling with no trace of apology—only a hint of mischief.
"My apologies. I simply couldn't resist testing just how durable you are. Truly beyond my expectations."
Henry frowned slightly, as if in discomfort, examining his hand. That only made Arden more pleased.
"So," Henry said, shaking his hand lightly, "can we consider that even?"
"Please, sit, Mr. Brown. We have much to discuss. It won't be settled so easily."
The vampire couple sat first, their tone dripping with authority.
Henry took his seat a moment later. Since they clearly had hostile intentions, he needed to understand their leverage and methods.
Arden wasted no time. "Mr. Brown, I believe Mr. Giancarlo Dragone—"
"Giovanni Giordano Dragone," Henry corrected internally, recognizing the name as Giancarlo Delagonetti (吉塔诺·德拉戈内蒂).
"—has already offered you very favorable terms. Yet to this day, you've given no satisfactory response. This has displeased many."
"His proposal?" Henry shrugged. "I'm afraid I've forgotten the details. But if I forgot, that just proves it wasn't worth remembering."
"That is a very rude statement, Mr. Brown. Some people's words must be remembered—even if they offend you."
"People like Mr. Delagonetti?"
"Exactly." Arden's face showed unmistakable reverence.
Henry tilted his head. "Let me ask you something—what gives you the right to lecture me? Young man, have you even graduated high school?
"I don't care if these people—" he gestured at the men in black suits around the room, "—listen to you, or if you've hired yourself a proper British butler. All that tells me is your family has more money than mine.
"Don't take that condescending tone with someone older than you. Graduate first."
The deliberate provocation worked perfectly.
The young-looking couple burst into laughter. The woman even wiped tears from her eyes. "Do we really look that young to you?"
James Arden said, "Young man, we are the ones qualified to call you young. I am ninety-three. My wife is ninety-one. Why do you think we look like this? It's a gift from Elder Delagonetti."
"You…" Henry feigned alarm, pulling out a silver cross pendant from under his collar and holding it up with both hands.
That only amused them further.
Arden waved dismissively. "Have you been watching too many horror movies? Crosses don't work on us."
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