Ilari fell.
Before he could even let out a full scream, he crashed heavily to the floor, blood rapidly spreading across the polished marble.
Just a second ago, he had been a subtle yet crucial pawn in this power struggle, the key to everyone's attempt to control the entire situation.
But now, he was merely a corpse rapidly growing cold.
For the first time, Sir William's face showed genuine, undisguised shock. He gripped the wheelchair's armrests tightly, his knuckles turning bluish white from the force.
Paul's secretly cultivated confidant had just fired his gun and had yet to turn the barrel—
"Bang bang bang bang bang!!!"
A denser, more savage barrage of gunfire erupted like popping beans!
At least seven or eight submachine guns opened fire at once. The bodyguards around the hall took barely two seconds to turn the shooter into a sieve!
The stench of blood and gunpowder instantly filled the air.
"Kill him!"
Chris's roar nearly tore his throat apart. Pointing at Paul, his eyes bloodshot, he yelled, "Kill him now! That traitor! That—"
"Stop!"
Before Paul could speak, William's roar echoed through the hall.
Chris's scream cut off abruptly as he looked at his grandfather in astonishment.
The old man's chest was still heaving rapidly. He even broke into a violent coughing fit from shouting too urgently, but he raised a hand and made a stopping gesture.
Numerous gun barrels remained aimed at Paul, but the bodyguards merely kept their fingers on the triggers. No one fired again.
Paul stood where he was, having never moved from beginning to end.
He did not even look at the confidant who had been riddled with bullets, nor did he look at Ilari's corpse on the floor.
He simply watched William quietly. There was no fear or triumph on