Chapter 4: More Than Beating You, I'm Going to Kill You

The Grand Fortune Hotel sat in the southern district of River City, one of the few true five-star hotels the city could boast. It was not especially tall, only eleven floors. But the very top held a lavish presidential suite whose fittings could have gone toe-to-toe with the best hotels in any first-tier metropolis. At that moment, Benjamin Wokey, the chairman's son of River City Bank, was locked in a sweaty tangle with a woman on a wide, springy waterbed. It did not take long before a satisfied cry rang out. A moment later, the woman lay draped over him and asked in a soft, coaxing voice, "Young Master Wokey, about me getting into the film and TV industry…" Benjamin Wokey patted her supple skin and grinned. "Relax. Tomorrow I'll get you in touch with a crew. I'll slip them some cash and get you a supporting role first, let you show your face. After that, we'll find a way to push you into a lead." "You're the best, Young Master Wokey." She giggled, rose, cleaned him up first, then walked into the bathroom to run water and freshen up. "Slut." Benjamin Wokey watched her smooth back vanish past the bathroom door and chuckled. He sat up, lit a post-coital cigarette, then picked up his phone and opened his photo album. Every picture inside was of Rylie Norrell. He was something else. He had barely finished, yet the moment his eyes landed on Rylie Norrell's photos, his body reacted again. The hunger in his gaze turned filthy, greedy. "Little bitch. I don't believe you can slip out of my hand." Staring at the flawless beauty on the screen, he muttered, "How much longer can you hold out? I already checked Perfect Sky Company. Without that loan, your company won't last a week." "So what's it going to be? Let the company your father built with blood and sweat go under, or spend one night with me? Heh, heh, heh…" He had coveted Rylie Norrell for a long time. He despised Reginald Lyson, the man who had become her husband, and at the same time he ached to replace him, to have Rylie Norrell pinned beneath him. And finally, the chance had arrived. When he learned that the Norrell family's Perfect Sky Company was seeking a loan, he used the Wokey family's connections to lean on bank after bank, ensuring none of them would lend to Perfect Sky Company. Then he deliberately let River City Bank dangle a sliver of hope, baiting Rylie Norrell into the trap. The plan was nearly complete. In his mind, by noon tomorrow at the latest, that perfect woman would appear before him and let him do whatever he pleased. Oh, right. He had heard Rylie Norrell had a younger sister, just as pretty, who served as Perfect Sky Company's general manager. When the bank released the loan, he would "accidentally" approve only half. Then he would use the remaining half to take the sister down too. Two birds with one stone. Even better. Crash! Just as Benjamin Wokey sank into his sweet daydream, glass shattered somewhere outside the bedroom. The presidential suite had a partitioned layout. Beyond the bedroom was a living room, and the sound seemed to come from there. The noise jolted him. The woman in the bathroom heard nothing. Benjamin Wokey sprang off the bed, threw on a robe, and strode out. In the dim living room, a young man in a short-sleeved T-shirt and beach shorts stood there as if he had always belonged. He had even picked up the expensive whisky Benjamin Wokey had opened earlier while entertaining women. It was a bottle worth well over $10,000. The intruder poured himself a glass like the place was his. Benjamin Wokey stared, dumbfounded. How the hell did this guy get in? A cold draft brushed his skin. He shivered and turned his head. The massive floor-to-ceiling window in the living room had been smashed, leaving a jagged hole. The sound from earlier had come from there. Did this guy break in through that? But this was the eleventh floor. What, did he fly in? "Who the hell are you? How are you in here? Get out!" Benjamin Wokey barked, quickly tying his robe tight. Reginald Lyson did not answer. He lifted the freshly poured glass, tipped his head back, and drained it in one go. "Majestic Whisky from Eagle Nation is a classic," he said calmly. "A drink like that should be taken neat. Mixing it with Sprite is a waste of something precious." He pointed at the two glasses beside him, the ones Benjamin Wokey had used earlier. "The hell?" Benjamin Wokey snapped. "It's my liquor. How I drink it is none of your business." He jabbed a finger forward, voice rising. "Who do you think you are, coming in here like this?" "Get out right now and I might let you keep breathing. Don't think I'm joking. I'm from the Wokey family in River City!" As the eldest young master of River City's financial powerhouse, he had the confidence to say that to most people. Unfortunately for him, the man in front of him was not someone a family name could scare off. Before the Sovereign, all were ants. To Reginald Lyson, who had lived for ten thousand years, the Wokey family was not even worth a fart. "Are you deaf?" Benjamin Wokey demanded. Seeing Reginald Lyson drink without sparing him a glance, he snatched up his phone and started dialing. Before the call connected, he threw out one last threat. "Get out immediately, or I'll have someone toss you off this floor." Reginald Lyson still did not speak. He poured himself another glass, then another, as if he meant to finish the entire bottle of Majestic Whisky by himself. Benjamin Wokey's anger boiled over. "Seriously? You really don't believe in consequences?" The call connected. He roared into it, "It's me! Get up here, now! Some idiot broke into my room and is causing trouble!" He hung up and glared at Reginald Lyson with murderous eyes. "Just you wait. You dare come here and act wild? You're begging to die. You don't know the Grand Fortune Hotel is Wokey family property too?" He walked to the wall and flicked on the living room's ceiling lights. The darkness retreated. And when Benjamin Wokey finally saw the intruder's face clearly, his body jerked as if struck. "Y-you… you're Reginald Lyson?!" The man sitting there was Rylie Norrell's well-known good-for-nothing husband. The Norrell family's useless live-in son-in-law. The last trace of fear in Benjamin Wokey vanished. "Damn. So it's you." He sauntered over with a fake smile. "What, you got out of the hospital? Your head looks fine. Tough, huh?" He leaned in, voice dripping with mockery. "Why'd you come here? Did you find out about your wife?" "Relax. Your wife's fine today. I haven't touched her yet. But tomorrow? Who knows…" His grin widened. "If you show up around this time tomorrow, you might get to watch her on her knees, begging after I'm done with her. Hahahaha!" His eyes brimmed with contempt and amusement. Reginald Lyson's reputation as a coward had been so firmly planted that Benjamin Wokey did not even stop to wonder how he had entered the presidential suite. He only kept sneering, piling insult on insult. "You talk too much," Reginald Lyson said, lowering his gaze as he set the glass down. "I don't like being disturbed when I'm drinking." Then he moved. Without warning, Reginald Lyson rose. Before Benjamin Wokey could even process it, four slaps cracked across his face. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Four in total. Two on the left. Two on the right. Not one extra, not one missing. Each strike landed heavy and sharp, loud enough to sting the air. Only after the last slap did Benjamin Wokey's body catch up. He stumbled back a step on instinct, eyes wide. Reginald Lyson sat back down as if nothing had happened and poured out the last of the whisky. This time he did not gulp it. He tasted it slowly, unhurried. Benjamin Wokey clutched his burning cheek, frozen in disbelief. "Y-you… you actually dared to hit me?" "Wrong." Reginald Lyson finished the final drop. "I'm not just beating you. I'm going to kill you." When he said it, the corner of his mouth lifted into a warm, spring-breeze smile. But that expression, so different from the man people mocked in daylight, made Benjamin Wokey's heart lurch. He shook his head, trying to laugh it off even as his throat tightened. *What the hell? Why do I feel scared?* *It's impossible. He's just a useless bastard.* He forced himself steady and drew a deep breath. "Kill me? Behind me is the Wokey family! River City's financial giant!" He spat the words like knives. "You're just a live-in son-in-law. You think you can threaten me? You think the Norrell family will back you?" "In front of the Wokey family, the Norrell family is an ant! Forget killing me. Just for what you did today, you, Rylie Norrell, and her whole family are finished!" "And if the Norrell family dares to interfere, I'll make sure they can't even keep their footing in River City!" "Heh." Reginald Lyson chuckled softly and stood. Benjamin Wokey immediately retreated a step. "The Wokey family. What a mighty name," Reginald Lyson said, taking one step forward. Benjamin Wokey retreated again. "You actually believe that in River City, the Wokey family can cover the sky with one hand?" He shook his head. "Wrong." He advanced another step, calm as still water. Benjamin Wokey backed away again, his spine turning cold. "Believe it or not," Reginald Lyson said, voice even, "today I won't only kill you. I'll send your head to the Wokey family." "And tomorrow morning, the Wokey family won't investigate your death." He smiled faintly. "They'll help me cover it up." "You…" Benjamin Wokey held his throbbing face, mouth hanging open. The bastard in front of him had to be insane. Then the shock curdled into rage. He had never been threatened like this in his life. And by a piece of trash the whole city looked down on. If word got out, how would he ever hold his head up again? His jaw clenched until it ached. His fingers trembled. If he did not kill this bastard tonight, he would never swallow this humiliation. At that moment, the presidential suite's front door slammed open. Six vicious-looking men rushed in with pistols. The instant they took in the scene, they raised their guns and aimed straight at Reginald Lyson. Benjamin Wokey's face twisted with delight. He straightened, no longer hiding the cruelty in his eyes. "Hahahaha! Didn't you just run your mouth?" "You said you were going to kill me?" He spread his arms slightly, savoring it. "How? In front of my bodyguards? In front of these guns?!" Fire Nation banned firearms, but that was for ordinary people. For a River City powerhouse like the Wokey family, getting weapons and ammunition was effortless. That was their power. That was Benjamin Wokey's confidence. Compared to cold steel and loaded barrels, everything Reginald Lyson had said sounded like a clown's act, good for nothing but laughter.