Cyrus sighed deeply, his voice filled with resignation. “I believe their strength has been seriously overestimated! Just a few nights ago, I had a nightmare. In it, a troop of warriors from the Battlefield stormed in and leveled our Saint Dragon Business Association!”
“You can’t be serious, Cyrus! That was just a dream!” Salvatore chuckled, setting his cup down. His expression grew serious as he spoke slowly, word by word. “You say we haven’t gained anything? Look at where we are now, standing at the very top of the Seclela business circle. And who brought us to this point? If not for them, could our Saint Dragon Business Association really have reached this height, this position?”
Cyrus quickly countered, “That’s true, but think carefully. Do you honestly believe they can control everything? They might control us, but do you really think they can control him?”
“Have you forgotten what happened fifteen years ago? Have you forgotten what we have done to him?” Cyrus’s voice grew darker, his tone heavy. “I told you, he will come back. He will hunt us down, and one day, he’ll wipe us out, and anyone connected to us. Look at everything he’s done over the years-each move more astonishing and terrifying than the last! With his current power, eradicating us would be as easy as crushing an ant!”
Salvatore burst into laughter. His booming voice echoed with amusement. “Cyrus, you’re far too paranoid! What happened fifteen years ago, was that really our blame? Who can prove it? What exactly did we do?”
Cyrus’s brows furrowed deeply. A flicker of cold gleam crossed his eyes. He shook his head slowly and said, “Fifteen years ago, we made a mistake. But fifteen years later, we cannot afford to make the same mistake again. Salvatore, maybe it’s time we consider quitting.”
With that, Cyrus stood up, his chair scraping sharply against the floor.
Salvatore’s brows knitted tightly, and his face darkened like a storm gathering on the horizon. His piercing gaze locked onto Cyrus as he asked in a cold, deliberate tone, “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Cyrus held his ground, staring straight into Salvatore’s eyes. “I’m fed up. I’m out. I don’t want anything, no wealth, no power. All I care about is keeping my family safe!”
A flicker of disdain flashed across Salvatore’s face. His lips curled into a mocking sneer as he retorted, “Cyrus, you’re not the man you used to be. How could you become such a coward? Is it that man who’s scared you into this pathetic state?”
Cyrus shook his head. “This isn’t about fear. I just refuse to be anyone’s puppet anymore.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply toward the man beside him and waved his hand. “Harold, we’re leaving.”
Harold, ever obedient, sprang to his feet and followed close behind. Together, they strode toward the exit!
But just as they reached the door, Salvatore’s voice slashed through the room like a knife. “Stop right there!”
Cyrus froze mid-step. He turned his head slightly, and he said in a clipped and wary tone, “What now? I’ve left everything behind-every cent, every ounce of influence. I’m walking away with nothing. And I swear I’ll never let out any secret of Saint Dragon Business Association or that organization. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Salvatore’s expression twisted into something even darker. “You may have left everything behind, and surely you can’t take anything with you. But there’s still one thing you need to leave behind.” His voice was laced with venom.
Cyrus frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “What’s that?”
The words had barely left his lips when an icy, searing pain exploded through his chest. His body jerked violently as something cold pierced through him.
Eyes wide in shock, Cyrus staggered, twisting to look down. He saw a knife hilt, and the blade buried deep in his body. Slowly, trembling, he raised his head to see who had stabbed him. It was Harold, his own brother! Harold stood there, hand still gripping the dagger, his face devoid of emotion.
Cyrus’s pupils shrank as the world seemed to stop. He stared at Harold, his gaze a swirling storm of disbelief, anguish, and betrayal!
Behind them, Salvatore’s low, sinister laughter filled the air. “Your life…” he sneered. “That’s what you had to leave behind!”
The sound of the blade sinking into flesh echoed through the air. Harold wrenched the blade out of Cyrus’s gut with brutal force. Without a moment’s hesitation, he drove it back in, stabbing again and again into his brother’s abdomen. A flurry of vicious thrusts followed, each one deeper and more savage. Blood sprayed from Cyrus’s body in torrents, splattering across Harold’s face and clothes.
Cyrus’s eyes bulged in shock as he stared at Harold. He was still unable to comprehend what was happening. He could never have imagined that his own brother would turn the blade on him.
Harold’s face was a mask of dark malice. As his final strike sank deep into Cyrus’s body, a twisted smile showed on his face. He spat the words, “Brother, you’ve always been too timid. It’s time for you to rest. We Braxton family would never abandon our position and wealth in Saint Dragon Business Association. This is a venture we built together. You can walk away if you want, but that doesn’t mean I will. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your wife and children.”
Those were the last words Cyrus heard before everything went black. His mind slipped away into an eternal, suffocating darkness.
Harold wiped the blood from his face, then cleaned his hands with a practiced motion. Turning to Salvatore, he asked, “Old Mr. Vargas, I kept my word, didn’t I?”
Salvatore burst out laughing. His expression glowed with satisfaction as he gave a slow, approving thumbs-up. “Well done, Harold! You truly are the rightful heir of the Braxton family, ruthless and decisive! From this moment on, you’ll take your brother’s place at the helm of our association.”
Harold gave a modest shrug. “You flatter me, Old Mr. Vargas. It was simply something that had to be done. My brother led me for many years, but now he’s a shadow of the man he once was. The courage and brilliance that made him admirable are gone. Everything he does now reeks of hesitation. He’s no longer the brother I looked up to.”
Salvatore nodded faintly, his gaze sweeping over Cyrus’s lifeless body. With a weary shake of his head, he sighed, “Cyrus was, for all his flaws, a formidable figure as well as a qualified leader. Yet to think he would fall by his own brother’s hand… How tragic. How utterly pathetic!”
Harold’s face tightened with discomfort, but he forced himself to remain composed. Keeping his tone steady, he asked, “Old Mr. Vargas, you can rest easy. From now on, I’ll follow the organization’s orders without question. My brother’s shares… they’ll all belong to me now, won’t they?”
Salvatore’s brows knitted together. He shook his head slowly, his voice low and deliberate. “No.”
The single word struck Harold like a hammer on the head. His ingratiating smile froze on his face, then twisted into an angry snarl. “What did you say?” he demanded, his voice laced with disbelief.
Salvatore stared at Harold in the eye. Word by word, he said, “I said, no!”‘
The change in Harold’s expression was dramatic. His eyes widened with rage as he bellowed, “This is not a funny joke! You promised me that if I killed my brother, all his shares would become mine. Half of the Saint Dragon Business Association would belong to me!”
Salvatore let out a cold, cutting laugh. “A man who could kill his own brother was not worthy of any trust. Do you really think I would dare to work with you? If I kept you as a partner, who’s to say you wouldn’t kill me next?”
These words hit Harold like a bolt of lightning. His head snapped up, and his gaze turned piercing as he demanded, “You’re the one who told me to kill him!”
Salvatore sneered. “Yes, I told you to kill him. But you actually went through with it? Even he’s your own brother who was born from the same mother as you!”
Harold staggered backward. His face was filled with shock as he stammered out his words. “So, you’re just trying to pit us brothers against each other, and to sit back and reap the rewards without lifting a finger?”
Salvatore’s reply was ice-cold. “I don’t care about the rewards. I’m just carrying out orders.”
As the words left his lips, he drew a pistol in one fluid motion, leveling it at Harold. The sight of the gun sent a chill down Harold’s spine, and he stumbled further back, his feet scraping against the floor.
A sinister gleam flickered across Salvatore’s sharp, weathered features. His voice dropped, steady and lethal. “From this moment on, there is no place for you Braxton brothers in Saint Dragon Business Association. The association will now belong entirely to our Vargas family.”
Before Harold could react, a thunderous bang ripped through the air. The bullet sped from the barrel like a predator unleashed, striking Harold dead center in the forehead. He crumpled to the ground without a sound. The Braxton brothers met their end in such a tragic manner.
Clap. Clap. Clap. The sound of deliberate applause echoed in the room. From the shadows inside the meeting room door walked out a man in a sleek, perfectly tailored suit.