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Jack Arden scoffed at such reasoning.
People like him had never believed ordinary individuals were comparable to themselves. In a United States built on financial power, old-money families like theirs should stand above the law.
So who should interpret the law—if not them?
Seeing the young master's dismissive expression, Andrew Will brought out his final trump card. He placed a report on the table and pushed it toward Jack.
"What's this?"
Andrew Will said, "Since your grandparents are the alleged victims, I requested support from the FBI's forensic team to find scientific evidence of murder.
"This is the crime scene investigation report for your family's Montecito estate. Oh—and while the property is still technically owned by a foundation, the management has changed, hasn't it? So it's no longer your house."
Jack couldn't help but curse, "Damn it!"—but he still picked up the report.
At first glance, nothing seemed unusual.
The more he read, the more his heart pounded.
The alleged crime scene—the dining room—did indeed contain significant blood traces. However, analysis showed the blood came from multiple sources, none matching the DNA records of the Arden couple from hospitals.
Further investigation revealed something far worse.
The basement of the estate resembled a slaughterhouse.
At least twenty-three flayed human skins—young women.
Thirty-three sets of severed limbs.
Five fifty-gallon barrels filled with blood, and another half-full.
Five identifiable IDs. Countless personal belongings.
And an incinerator still burning when discovered—filled with clothing remnants. Even shutting it down couldn't recover usable evidence; only photographs remained.
No one knew how many victims there truly were.
From the testimonies of detained estate staff, it was confirmed that the basement—once a waste processing area—had been repurposed about three months prior under the direct orders of James and Lilith Arden.
---
Sweat beaded on Jack's forehead as he stared at the horrifying photos.
Andrew Will's tone turned icy. "I heard the FBI forensic team all sought psychological counseling afterward. Even I can't imagine a place like that existing—it's no different from hell.
"For the sake of your family's reputation, I chose to suppress this information. It hasn't been made public. The FBI is quietly identifying victims.
"Considering your grandparents are only 'missing,' perhaps I should issue a warrant?
"Or perhaps we leave things as they are. After all, we both know—the primary perpetrators, the Arden couple, are unlikely to ever reappear. There's no one left to hold accountable.
"Mr. Arden, what do you think?"
As for accomplices, investigations continued.
But the missing Ardens had become the perfect scapegoats. Estate staff either claimed ignorance or said they acted under orders.
After all, the couple could no longer defend themselves.
Jack's trembling hands placed the report back on the table. He didn't even know how he had made it through reading it.
He muttered, "This is fine… this is fine…"
He understood all too clearly—
If the family still held power, this could have been buried with a few words.
But now?
If this were exposed, countless opportunists would descend like vultures—and the consequences would extend to the entire family.
In the end, he boarded a Greyhound bus and returned in disgrace to a "home" he wasn't even sure he could keep.
---
The consequences of the Arden family's downfall extended far beyond what Jack or Andrew Will had imagined.
Old-money elites who had once coveted vampirism as a means of prolonging life suddenly realized—
In modern society, vampires were more vulnerable than humans.
And legally? Even worse.
Because the law had never been designed with vampires in mind.
The dark world maintained its structure only because vampires were numerous and dominant. Humans acted merely as intermediaries—white gloves—allowing them to form a closed system with their own rules.
But those who tried to straddle both worlds?
They were far more fragile than expected.
As a result, many wealthy elites who had gathered around vampires, hoping for the Embrace and "evolution," began to withdraw.
Because they saw clearly—
Under current laws, a missing person required seven years before being declared dead.
Even for those over eighty, it still took three.
That gap was fatal.
During that time, family assets lacked legitimate protection—and were easy prey.
Unless they relinquished power before becoming vampires…
But then—
Without power, could they still access family resources to sustain themselves?
Without power, would vampire elders even consider granting them the Embrace?
A perfect dilemma: you couldn't have both.
There were even rumors that in another old-money family, whose leaders had become vampires, the couple had been imprisoned by their own descendants using artificial sunlight—forced to surrender control.
Whether true or not, most people abandoned the idea of becoming vampires.
Only a small few still tried to design systems that preserved both power and transformation.
But such solutions remained distant—and faced immense resistance.
---
All of this turmoil rippled quietly within elite circles, unnoticed by the public.
But Henry—the one who had torn away the vampires' facade—had no such peace.
Tony Stark stormed into Stark Pictures personally.
The two men sat across from each other in the conference room, silent—like they were competing to see who could hold out longer.
Eventually, Stark broke first. He tossed a pen-like jammer onto the table, activated it, and said:
"I was just trying to hook a blue-blood shark.
"You? You called in a swarm of piranhas and stripped it clean—nothing left but bones.
"Do you have any idea those old men are blaming me for this?"
Henry spread his hands. "You didn't have to reel the fish in. I didn't kick anyone into doing it—I don't have that kind of power.
"If people dove in and gorged themselves, is it really so terrible that some old men are holding a grudge?"
"The problem is—they ate too, and still pinned it all on me." Stark clicked his tongue. "So what actually happened?"
Henry didn't explain. He simply accessed a Stark Industries laptop and played a recording.
It was the conversation he'd had with the Ardens at their Montecito estate.
Stark's focus immediately locked onto one detail—James Arden's claim that Howard Stark had been unable to protect himself.
His expression turned serious. "So my old man's death… there really was something off. Are they truly dead?"
Henry made a small bursting gesture with his hands. "Boom. Burned to ash—gone for good. If they hadn't turned themselves into vampires, I wouldn't have dared do it."
Did killing a vampire count as murder?
Of course not.
The horrors in that basement—though suppressed by the district attorney and FBI—were no secret to those with the right connections.
Tony Stark was one of them.
At the time, he had only felt satisfaction. He hadn't realized the couple might hold further value.
Now that he did, he could only sigh, "What a waste…"
Henry shot back, "You weren't planning to interrogate them for more secrets, were you? That was never going to happen. People like that aren't the kind you can quietly capture and extract information from."
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