Connelly Estate.
Arthur Connelly admired the young man's courage.
"Lucian, kill him," Connelly ordered, turning his back.
Silence.
No gunshot. No thud of a body hitting the floor.
Connelly turned back. Lucian stood frozen like a statue, mist rising from his rigid limbs.
"Mr. Connelly," Vincent sipped the coffee, which was now steaming with cold vapor. "You see? Impulsiveness has consequences."
Connelly's pupils dilated. His hand trembled.
"Do you think I'm here to threaten you?" Vincent smiled.
With a single glance, he compelled Connelly to sit back down. The powerful businessman sat like a scolded child, hands clasped, sweating.
"Sir," Connelly stammered. "If you want money, name your price. If you need a favor, I will do it."
He realized he was dealing with a monster. A mutant? No, something worse. He remembered the stories of the Mutant Wars, of humanity nearly being wiped out.
"If this file leaks," Vincent said calmly, placing the cup down, "you'll spend the rest of your life in federal prison. I don't even need to touch you. Your own crimes will bury you."
"Your confidence comes from your connections. Your lawyers. Your ability to bribe the media," Vincent continued. "But you forgot one thing. How will you fight Harry Osborn while fighting the DOJ?"
Connelly froze.
"Harry will use this chaos to purge you. He'll seize your shares while you're busy with indictments. And your 'friends' in high places? They'll abandon you to curry favor with the new CEO."
"Your final destination is prison. Or worse."
Connelly swallowed hard. He hadn't considered that. Harry Osborn was young, but he was Norman's son. He would be ruthless.
"Sir... what do you want me to do?" Connelly asked, defeated.
Vincent tapped his finger on his thigh.
"I want Oscorp."
"Impossible!" Connelly jumped up. "The military won't allow a Chinese national to control a defense contractor! Oscorp is too tied to the Pentagon!"
"Who said I care about the military contracts?" Vincent shook his head. "Chasing Pentagon money is a dead end. Oscorp needs independence. Biogenetics, clean energy—that's the future."
Connelly wanted to laugh. The military contracts are the only thing keeping us afloat! But he stayed silent, glancing at the frozen statue of Lucian.
Wait. Frozen?
Wilson Fisk... The Ice Demon.
Connelly connected the dots. The rumors about the new player in New York. The one who froze the Triads.
"Are you here for my shares?" Connelly asked.
Vincent looked at him with interest.
"I suddenly find you interesting, Mr. Connelly."
Connelly's fear spiked. "You know who I am."
"I won't kill you," Vincent smiled, flashing his teeth. "In fact, I'll give you a good price."
"I'll sell! I'll leave Oscorp!" Connelly nodded frantically.
"No," Vincent shook his head. "You can't leave. I want you to run Oscorp for me."
Connelly stared, dumbfounded.
"Don't look so surprised. Devils keep their promises better than God does," Vincent pushed his coffee cup forward. "Refill, please."
Connelly hurriedly grabbed the pot. When he turned back, Vincent was gone.
"Prepare the contracts. Prepare to be President. I'll be in touch."
The voice echoed in the empty room.
Connelly's hands shook so hard he spilled the coffee.
Seconds later, his security team burst in.
"Sir! Are you okay?"
"He's gone," Connelly whispered. He looked at Lucian's frozen corpse. "Luca, dispose of the body. And tell no one about today."
He had to evaluate the risk. But deep down, he knew he had no choice. The Ice Demon owned him now.
Commonwealth Bank HQ. Manhattan.
Mr. Smith was waiting.
"Mr. Hall! Welcome back!" Smith beamed. To him, Vincent was the God of Wealth. A high schooler worth billions.
"Mr. Smith," Vincent shook his hand. "I need the bank's help."
"Name it."
"I want to acquire Oscorp. Fully."
Smith's eyes lit up. Oscorp was distressed, but valuable.
"I need a loan to buy out the institutional investors. And I need you to handle the acquisition of Arthur Connelly's shares."
"A hostile takeover?" Smith asked.
"A strategic acquisition," Vincent corrected. "Set up an offshore holding company. I don't want my name on the paperwork yet."
"Understood. We will handle everything. Just sign at the end," Smith promised. Gaining the Ice Demon's favor was worth more than the fees.
Vincent handed over the dossier containing the blackmail material on the other five minor shareholders.
"Use this to negotiate the price."
Smith opened the file, his grin widening. "Oh, this will make negotiations very... efficient."
Manhattan Real Estate.
Vincent walked out of the bank and called Julia, his real estate agent.
"Mr. Hall," Julia purred. "I have found some properties. Are you free?"
"I'm at the bank. Pick me up."
Soon, Julia arrived in a luxury car.
"Manhattan doesn't have estates like Long Island," she explained. "But I found a rare gem. A standalone villa near Central Park."
The owner was a retired NBA star named Abel (who looked suspiciously like Kobe Bryant, but wasn't). He needed cash fast.
The villa was perfect. Luxury renovation, private, secure.
"Price?" Vincent asked.
"$32 Million," Abel said reluctantly.
"Sold," Vincent signed the check without blinking.
"Treat this house well," Abel sighed, handing over the keys.
"It's mine now," Vincent said, pulling Julia close.
As Abel left, Julia squealed and ran around the massive living room.
Vincent watched her. With her wide smile and big hair, she looked exactly like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
"Ms. Julia," Vincent locked the front door. "Dessert is over. Shall we discuss afternoon tea?"
Julia bit her lip, backing away playfully.
"I think I have time for tea."
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