Chapter 8: The Price of a Kingdom
Harrison Vance stood frozen at the entrance of the Jade Pavilion, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The scene before him was a nightmare he couldn't wake up from, a total inversion of the natural order he had lived by for decades. There was Theodore Sterling—a man who owned shipping empires and sat on the boards of global conglomerates—leaning forward with the posture of a humble, attentive subordinate. And there was the "brat," Ethan McCain, the boy he had intended to humiliate, swirling a fifty-thousand-dollar cognac as if it were tap water.
"Vance," Sterling's voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as a razor. "I believe I asked what your purpose was in interrupting this private meeting."
Vance swallowed hard. His throat felt like it was filled with dry sand, making it difficult to find his voice. He was a veteran manager; he had crossed many hurdles in his life, navigated high-stakes corporate takeovers, and suppressed violent union strikes with a flick of his wrist. He forced himself to breathe, trying to reclaim some shred of his dignity. He couldn't think of a valid excuse for his intrusion, so he decided to shift the target. He would spoil Elena in both of their minds—blame her for the lapse in protocol to save his own skin.
"I... I apologize, Mr. Theodore," Vance said, his voice regaining some of its oily professional sheen. "I was merely concerned. Elena has been absent from the lobby for an extended period. I was worried that her... over-eagerness to serve a new guest might have led to a breach in our elite service standards. She is young, after all, and sometimes lacks the 'refinement' required for the Jade Pavilion."
He spoke carefully, making sure not to be overtly aggressive so as not to arouse suspicion from either of them, but the poison was there. He wanted Sterling to think Elena was being unprofessional, perhaps even inappropriate, in her pursuit of Ethan's favor.
Sterling narrowed his eyes, about to scold Vance for his blatant incompetence, when a voice interrupted him. It was a voice that sounded like grinding tectonic plates—deep, steady, and terrifyingly calm.
"I want to buy the hotel, Mr. Theodore."
The silence that followed was absolute. It was as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, leaving the occupants gasping in a vacuum.
Harrison Vance felt his legs turn to jelly. He actually wobbled, his balance failing him as the world tilted on its axis. He had to reach out and grip the silk-papered wall just to stay upright. Buy the hotel? The Golden Dragon was a landmark valued at thirty to forty billion dollars. No one simply "bought" it over a casual glass of cognac.
Sterling was equally shocked, his hand freezing halfway to his glass. His mind, trained in the brutal world of high-level commerce, went into overdrive. He searched Ethan's face, looking for a twitch, a smirk, or any sign of a joke. But Ethan's eyes—now sharpened by his increased Body stats—were like twin gold coins, unblinking and ancient.
He's telling the truth, Sterling realized, a cold shiver running down his spine. Only a scion of a True Sovereign family would speak of a 40-billion-dollar acquisition as if he were ordering a side dish.
"Mr. McCain," Sterling said, his voice remarkably steady despite the chaos in his mind. "A purchase of this magnitude... it is not something I can decide alone. There are two other major shareholders. I must consult them immediately."
Internally, Sterling's mind was racing. He thought: Even if I want to sell, would the other shareholders agree? The Golden Dragon Hotel wasn't just a hotel to them; it was one of the primary ways to claim power within their respective families. It was a trophy of influence. He thought of this and could only pray that both of them would sell. He reached a silent resolution: If they won't sell their parts, I'll just sell my own shares to him and get closer to him that way.
Sterling turned to Vance, his expression turning to one of pure annoyance. "Vance, follow me. Now."
Ethan didn't look at them as they turned to leave. He simply stared at the amber liquid in his glass, looking through it as if seeing the future. "Before you go, send Elena back in. I find her company... preferable to the General Manager's."
Sterling didn't even hesitate. "Of course, Mr. McCain. Right away."
As the two men walked back toward the executive office, the atmosphere was suffocating. Sterling was already on his phone, typing furiously into the encrypted group chat. Vance followed behind, his mind a chaotic mess of numbers and fear.
He didn't know that Ethan had overheard his snide comments about Elena and was already planning his downfall. Ethan's protective instinct had flared; he thought, No one bullies my woman and walks away from it.
All Vance could think about was his own survival. He looked back at the closed doors of the Jade Pavilion one last time, a sense of impending doom washing over him. What will become of me if Sterling agrees? Vance wondered, cold sweat drenching his shirt.
He began calculating his life's worth in his head. His base salary as General Manager was 50 million dollars a year—a staggering sum for most, but pittance compared to the man sitting in the room he just left. On top of that, he siphoned another 50 million through "management fees," kickbacks from suppliers, and luxury surcharges that Sterling usually wasn't around to notice. Today was just a rare day that the Shareholder had decided to visit.
Totaling 100 million dollars a year, Vance lived like a king in the city. He had the cars, the villas, and the prestige. But if Ethan McCain bought the hotel, all of that would vanish in a heartbeat. Ethan wouldn't just fire him; he would likely bury him.
Please, let the other shareholders reject the offer, Vance prayed silently, his palms sweating. Let them be greedy. Let them be stubborn.
Back in the Jade Pavilion, Ethan leaned back in the dark mahogany chair. The idea of buying the hotel had sprouted in his mind like a seed in fertile soil. He hadn't expected Sterling to take it seriously so quickly, but the system's "Aura" was clearly doing its job.
He wasn't just buying a building; he was buying "Face." He thought this hotel would also be a great retirement plan for his parents, a safe harbor for them to live out their days in luxury. And most importantly, he was going to spend enough money to trigger a massive amount of System Points.
The door opened softly. Elena walked in, her face a mix of confusion and hope. She had been intercepted by Sterling in the hall, who had looked at her with a newfound, terrifying respect before telling her to return to Ethan. With the way Sterling had looked at her—as if she were the most important person in the building—she felt a strange mix of fear and the hope of a brighter future. A smile couldn't help but show on her face as she walked back into Ethan's dining room.
"Mr. McCain?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You asked for me?"
Ethan looked at her, noticing how the afternoon sun caught the gold in her hair, making her look like a goddess of the hearth. "Sit down, Elena. I think it's time we discussed your new job description."
Elena sat, her heart racing. She didn't know yet that the man across from her was currently negotiating for the very floor she was sitting on. She only knew that the air in the room felt different—heavier, more electric, as if she were standing in the presence of a rising storm.
Ethan smiled, and for the first time, it wasn't the smile of a scholarship student. It was the smile of a predator who had just finished setting the trap for an entire empire.