He was a man in a gray suit and gold-rimmed glasses.
"No... no..." He shook his head desperately, shielding it with both hands. His voice trembled uncontrollably. "I didn't do it... I really didn't..."
Will touched his forehead again.
A luxurious hospital room. An old man lay in the bed, tubes running into his body, his breathing faint.
The man stood beside the bed, holding a pillow.
"Grandfather," he said softly, "you're tired. Go to sleep."
Then he slammed the pillow over the old man's face.
The old man thrashed violently, clutching the bedsheets so tightly that his nails tore several gashes in the fabric.
But soon, accompanied by a foul stench, the old man stopped struggling.
The man lifted the pillow and stared at the old man's blue-purple face, excitement written all over his own. "The inheritance is mine."
"Avada Kedavra." Green light took his life.
Will withdrew his hand without sparing the corpse another thought. Then came the third person, the fourth, the fifth...
Bodies fell one after another onto the cold floor.
In the conference room, those once-powerful executives could only watch helplessly as Will passed them one by one like the Grim Reaper.
It was more terrifying than death, like walking a tightrope high above the clouds while the Grim Reaper held the wire in his hand.
None of them knew who would be next.
By the time Will reached the head of the conference table, only a third of them remained seated—fewer than twenty people.
Will had expected this. He knew there would be scum among them. After all, people who did this kind of work for the Howard family were hardly likely to be decent themselves.
Still, clearing out a few vermin was always worthwhile.
Killing them also established his authority.
It was a