The other rich kids burst into laughter, mocking Andrew without restraint. One mocked, "Kid, you're way too full of yourself. You'll be watching your own blood spill across the floor in no time!" Others joined in, saying, "Sean, stop wasting time with him—just beat the crap out of him and make him wash dishes in the back for a week!" "You really thought you could get away with paying a single dollar? And that crap about buying us water? If you don't die today, I'll change my last name to yours!" Andrew's expression darkened, the amusement in his eyes vanishing. "This is what I'm willing to pay. One dollar. Take it or leave it. If not, then I'm walking out." Sean's face twisted with rage, and he roared, "Lock the doors! If this piece of trash doesn't pay up the way I want, then he's not leaving here alive!" Dexter sneered. "Andrew, your luck just ran out. The last guy who tried skipping out on a bill at Dream Paradise is already buried six feet under." The bodyguards moved
Andrew set his phone down and glanced at Sean. "Rodney's on his way. He said he's coming to tear down your club." Sean and Dexter exchanged looks before bursting into laughter. Dexter clutched his stomach as if he couldn't breathe. "Andrew, you're really putting on a show here! If I didn't already know what a nobody you are, I might've actually believed you!" Rodney was one of Jayrodale's Four Most Eligible Bachelors, and he ranked higher than Dexter. Not only that, but because he trained at Madblade Martial Academy, he was notoriously arrogant. He did not even give guys like Harvey and Michael the time of day, let alone someone like Dexter. So, the idea that Rodney would rush over because Andrew called? That was laughable. If anything, Dexter figured that if Andrew did run into Rodney, he would probably drop to his knees in terror. However, Marcus shot Andrew a deep look, knowing that this underground king was done playing. Dream Paradise—and that idiot Sean—were about to
Rodney's fists rained down on Dexter like a brutal storm, smashing into his face, his head, his back—even between his legs. Within seconds, Dexter looked like his soul had nearly been beaten out of his body. The other rich brats, including Sean, were completely paralyzed with fear. They stood frozen, trembling violently, their minds unable to process what was happening. Andrew had actually called Rodney. Not only that, but Rodney had really shown up—with a full squad from Madblade Martial Academy. They wondered how the so-called "kept man," the "pretty boy," the "spineless loser" they had mocked pulled this off. It finally dawned on them that Andrew was not bluffing, and he was dead serious from the start. A foul stench filled the air as Sean dropped to his knees with a loud thud, his face pale as a ghost. He had lost all control, wetting himself in sheer terror. "Rodney! I was wrong! Please, you can beat Dexter all you want, but don't touch me! I hate pain—I really do!" Wa
In an instant, the hundred plus men Dylan and Natasha had brought with them unleashed absolute chaos upon Dream Paradise. Glass shattered, furniture splintered, and the deafening sound of destruction filled the air. They did not stop until the last intact piece of glass was reduced to nothing but shards on the floor. Dexter's throat bobbed as he struggled to breathe, his body locked in pure terror. He could not believe the sudden turn of events. Andrew was supposed to be a spineless nobody—a worthless, pretty boy who lived off wealthy women. Yet not only had he summoned Rodney, but he had also brought in Dylan and Natasha, two of the most feared underground figures in the city. Each of them alone was already untouchable. Together? Even the Combs family would not survive if they wanted it gone. Before long, a foul stench filled the air again. Dexter, following in Sean's pathetic footsteps, had completely pissed himself. "Andrew—no, Mr. Lloyd! Mr. Lloyd, please! Have mercy! Y
One passerby commented, "This kind of sleazy joint should've been shut down ages ago—talk about karma!" Someone replied, "Exactly! My husband used to come here twice a month, dropping thousands every time. No matter how much I tried to talk sense into him, he wouldn't stop. But now? Finally, I can relax!" Another chimed in, "Damn… I have to say, I'm going to miss Number 9 and Number 11. Those nights were legendary! The way they—ugh, never mind. Some memories are just too good to forget!" A few seasoned veterans stood outside the wreckage of Dream Paradise, sighing nostalgically at the club's downfall. Andrew patted Rodney's shoulder and grinned. "Rodney, I owe you one." Rodney quickly waved it off. "Mr. Lloyd, please—this was nothing. It's what I should do." Andrew nodded. "Alright, then take your guys and head back. It's over now." Without hesitation, Rodney gathered the Madblade Martial Academy crew and left. Dylan followed soon after, leaving only Natasha behind. She
Andrew had Marcus figured out by now. If he had to sum him up in one sentence, it would be—a closet hedonist, through and through. The two were originally planning to head back to Rhodes Corporation together. However, before they could leave, Andrew's phone rang—it was Francesca. "Andrew, where are you? Get to Moonlit Apothecary right now—Nyla's in critical condition!" Her voice was trembling, thick with panic and distress. Andrew's face turned ice-cold. "What happened? Take a deep breath and tell me everything!" Francesca broke down into sobs. "That hunchbacked bastard—Aspen's guy—the one she hired! He hit Nyla, Andrew! Please, hurry! The poison is spreading fast—I can't save her!" Andrew did not waste another second. He hung up, slammed his foot on the gas, and tore through the streets toward Moonlit Apothecary. If Francesca's description was right, Nyla had been struck by Gordon's Plaguebringer's Palm. Andrew had survived it before because he was immune to toxins. Howe
Nyla's voice was barely above a whisper. "Then… he struck me with his palm… Everything went dark… I wanted to warn you, Dr. Lloyd, but I blacked out before I could." Andrew pressed his hands gently on her shoulders. "Nyla, you don't need to say anything else. Just rest." Nyla shook her head weakly, refusing to stay silent. "Dr. Lloyd, run! That hunchbacked old man is terrifying. He said he'd come back. If he can't find you, he'll kill one person a day… until you show up." Francesca clenched her fists, her entire body trembling with rage. "That psycho!" Andrew's expression turned bone-chillingly cold. "Don't worry. He won't get the chance. Fran, stay here and watch over Nyla. I need to take care of something." There was something in Andrew's voice—something final—that made Francesca's heart skip a beat. She reached for him in panic. "Andrew, where are you going? Please, be careful!" Andrew nodded but did not stop. "I won't be long." His G-Wagon roared to life, tires screec
Aspen slammed her coffee down and strode toward the front hall. She wanted to see who had the guts to call her by name so brazenly. In the front hall, Leroy clutched his stomach, his face twisted in rage. He spat, "Andrew, you barged into the Stevens mansion and still had the nerve to hit me? You better believe Christie will make you pay for this!" Irene shrieked hysterically, "Andrew, you're nothing but a heartless bastard! No matter what, Christie was with you for so long, and this is how you repay her? How could you go after Leroy like that? Do you even have a conscience?" Andrew cast them both a cold glance and smirked. "Leroy, you know damn well why you got hit! The second I walked in, you charged at me like a mad dog. What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let you take a free shot?" Leroy gritted his teeth, seething. "You've gotten real cocky, Andrew. Don't forget, everything you have today exists because of the Stevens family!" Irene shouted, "Exactly! You owe
Natasha joked, "Aspen, of all times, you could've walked out, you just had to pick the moment I was getting cozy with my darling. You're not jealous, are you? Trying to ruin the mood on purpose?" Aspen let out a cold laugh. "Madam Vostokoff, you're overthinking it. If you two want to flirt or even start going at it right here, it has nothing to do with me. If you think I was interrupting, then I apologize. I'll leave right now so you two can carry on." Natasha chuckled. "Come on now, Snow Queen, we're all on the same side here. I was just teasing. Don't take it to heart." The icy look on Aspen's face finally faded a little. "I'm heading out. A small firm is requesting investment from Supreme Capital Group, so I'm going to check them out and see if they're worth our time." She threw that out to Andrew with zero warmth, then strutted off, her hips swaying confidently as she left Serenity Villa. Andrew immediately instructed Dylan's crew to follow and keep her safe. Natasha sc
Dylan and Natasha arrived in Blumedale the same night Andrew's orders were sent back to Jayrodale. They were accompanied by none other than the semi-martial king himself—Reuben. "Mr. Lloyd, that opportunity you mentioned… the one that could set me free—what is it exactly?" Reuben asked eagerly the moment he saw Andrew. Andrew waved his hand and said, "No rush. I haven't figured it out yet, but it won't be long." Reuben held back his excitement and simply nodded, saying nothing more. The more time he spent around Andrew, the more he realized just how unfathomable this man truly was. Back when he followed Elon to storm Jayrodale, he had been taught a brutal lesson. Now, there was not a shred of resentment left in him—only fear and awe. After all, a man who dared to kill a direct descendant of the Haywoods would have no problem ending him with a snap of his fingers. Reuben had only martial skills but no powerful family backing him—if Andrew ever wanted him dead, he would not la
For Quinton, it had never been just about sleeping with Christina. What excited him more was the thrill—the thrill of a top-tier predator closing in on an ice-cold beauty. To him, conquering a woman like Christina would stroke his ego and validate his inflated sense of self-worth. Unfortunately for him, Christina never felt even a flicker of attraction toward him. At best, they could be called business allies—or to put it bluntly, she only saw him as a temporary tool. Quinton wanted power, possession, dominance. Meanwhile, Christina only wanted leverage—specifically, to use him and his connections to push the Stevens Corporation into Blumedale. … Over at the Goldings family estate, word of the Haywoods' bounty hit hard. Both Richard and Elon were momentarily stunned when they heard. "This kid really doesn't know when to stop," Richard growled. "Now he's provoked the Haywoods and even left a body behind. He's practically asking for death! He's so arrogant that it's disgusti
The Haywoods' bounty order exploded across Blumedale like a thunderclap. Someone exclaimed, "Holy hell—two elite families teaming up to hunt down one man? Who the hell is this Andrew guy?" Another chimed in, "The Goldings offered 300 million, and now the Haywoods are throwing in half a billion. That's 800 million in total. I mean, damn—if I were an assassin, I'd be tempted!" "With both families issuing kill orders? No way Andrew makes it past today." … Elsewhere, Quinton wasted no time finding Christina and her family. "Christie," he said, barely hiding his glee, "things are about to get interesting. Andrew just caused a major disaster!" He looked positively thrilled at the news. Christina's tone remained cold. "I heard. I really don't know where he got the nerve to kill Seth. That's just ridiculous of him." Irene was playing with a new bracelet, her eyes gleaming as she casually said, "Who cares? Andrew's been arrogant long enough. Finally, someone's putting him in hi
Aspen said, "You're the one who killed Seth. The Haywoods are going to target you first—so you'd better leave now while you still can!" Andrew said nothing. Instead, he walked toward her slowly, one step at a time. Aspen frowned and instinctively took a step back. The space between them was too close for comfort, and it made her uneasy. However, Andrew did not stop—he kept moving in, ignoring her resistance entirely. Aspen soon found herself backed up against the wall. Her expression turned cold as she snapped, "What are you doing?" Andrew leaned in, towering over her. "Aspen, something's off with you." "What are you talking about?" "You are… worried about my safety, aren't you?" Aspen shoved him hard, her face flushing as she barked, "I wasn't joking just now! If you're not taking this seriously, then just forget I said anything!" Her heart was pounding. For a second, she thought Andrew was going to kiss her. If he had, she would have bitten his tongue off without hes
Andrew could not figure Aspen out, wondering what the hell was wrong with her now. He had just told her she could go, and she still looked upset. Andrew shook his head and stopped thinking about it. Instead, He pulled out his phone and made a call back to Jayrodale. "Gather your men and head to Blumedale immediately. And bring Reuben with you. Tell him—if he wants his freedom, I can offer him a way out." Reuben Davis was that semi–martial king Elon had once brought to Jayrodale. Under Andrew's control, the man had been training Dylan and Natasha in martial arts. Andrew did not know how the Haywoods would react to Seth's death, but he did not care. No matter what move they made, he would not back down. It was time to bring his core team into Blumedale. If these powerful families wanted to raise the stakes, he would play right along. Suddenly, his phone rang again. Andrew glanced at the caller ID and looked mildly surprised—it was Tiana. "Mrs. Rhodes, what can I do for you?"
Chantelle said with a smirk. "The moment he found out something happened to you, the look on his face could've scared someone to death." Aspen froze for a second, her heart thumping wildly as she glanced at Andrew walking just ahead. She could not help but wonder if Andrew actually cared whether she lived or died. Chantelle gave a half-smile, half-sigh. "Mr. Lloyd sure seems emotionally invested in you, Ms. Stevens. But, if you don't mind me overstepping—there's something off in your head." Aspen blinked. "Excuse me? Ms. Garcia, what do you mean by that?" Chantelle chuckled softly. "I majored in psychology, both undergrad and grad school. Even with just a little observation, I'd say you're showing classic signs of Stockholm syndrome." Aspen's lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Chantelle studied her with a piercing gaze. "And I can tell you're an intelligent woman. You know you're getting deeper and deeper emotionally involved. But deep down… you don't actually want
"Y-You actually dared to kill someone?" Chantelle stormed up to Andrew, her chest heaving with rage as she shouted, "You do know that murder is a crime, right?" Andrew replied flatly, "Then go ahead and arrest me. But you saw it too—this dead mutt barged into my company with a gang of thugs and trashed the place. He kidnapped my secretary, tortured her, and tried to get away with it." Chantelle fumed. "You had every right to fight back, but you had no right to kill him, do you understand?" Andrew's voice sharpened with impatience. "Ms. Garcia, that's enough! So what if I killed him? The guy came stomping into my space, and I'm supposed to just roll over and play dead?" Chantelle let out a bitter laugh and hissed, "Andrew, Mr. McCormick favored you. You've got incredible medical skills, and in Blumedale, you were this close to making your mark. "You had a bright future ahead of you—respect, success, everything within reach. But why would you throw it all away like this? Don't y
Andrew hissed, "This third slap? No reason at all. I just don't like the look of your face and feel like beating you to death. And this fourth one's for your parents—since they clearly failed to raise you, I'll handle it for them." After the string of brutal slaps, Seth's head was spinning. His ears rang like sirens, and his vision started going black around the edges. "Andrew… I swear…" he gasped, his voice shaky. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you, you arrogant bastard!" However, just as he spat out his threat, a blood-curdling scream ripped from his throat—Andrew had suddenly snapped five of his fingers. "Keep going," Andrew said coldly, his voice like a death sentence. Seth's mouth bled as he glared up with bloodshot eyes. "You're dead. You're so fucking dead… "How dare you treat me like this? My family—everyone in the Haywoods—they'll never let this slide!" His scream pitched into hysteria as Andrew crushed the remaining five fingers on his other hand, rendering both of Se