"So, will you sign it?" he asked them seriously. "I'll own ninety percent of the global business and seventy percent of the domestic business. I'll work on the expansion and management, all you need to do is keep innovating, make new products, and manage your personal store that will be used as the base for replicating around the world."
In truth, it was a very predatory contract. But at the same time, it was the least predatory that Dudley could have made. He'd pretty much own their company, trademark, and every product they'd ever make. Still, with their deal alone, the two brothers would make enough money to pull their family out of poverty and thrust it into generational wealth.
Ron's just going to be more bitchy now. All his brothers exceeded him. Dudley thought about the youngest son. Does he have any talents?
"We'll sign!" George blurted.
"With blood if you want," Fred said.
"..."
"Hah! Normal signs will do. I don't do blood contracts with everyone."
"..."
It was their turn to be speechless.
Clap!
"That's marvelous news! I'll whip up a cake to celebrate." Molly clapped her hands with delight, her world-shaking tits jolted. "Do stay a while, Mr. Dursley."
"I have dinner with the royals this evening, but…"
Dudley looked at his watch and nodded. He wanted to find a chance to be alone with Ginny again and maybe do the full course.
Sadly, the twins never left him alone after that, too excited. They told him about all their crazy ideas, and he honestly felt bored by them. He loved Arithmancy and money. Nonetheless, he stayed there, ate some cake, and finally left the Burrow, giving everyone a big hug, a little tighter one to Molly because—damn, those melons were soft!
Finally, Dudley and Narcissa were back in the flying Rolls-Royce and made their way back. This time, they sat shoulder to shoulder from the start. But Dudley didn't touch her legs and shamelessly threw an arm around her back instead.
Narcissa leaned into him on her own, letting him hold her like they were lovers.
Slow and steady. Soon, all lines will blur.
He wanted Narcissa to forget her motive. He wanted her to fully believe the delusion that she had his heart and mind. And slowly, he wanted her to lose herself in all the attention he'd give her.
Can't wait to hear my name with each thrust—Fuck, I'm being evil again. Damn you, Uncle Bateman… your madness isn't hereditary… is it?
####
That same night, around dinner time, Dudley arrived at the Ritz hotel in London. He was all alone in his armored car with a few Vanguard wizards nearby to protect him always. He was rather famous by now, but since it was a very private event, there were no photographers.
Nobody asked him for an identity. All the doors were opened for him, and he just walked straight in. An attendant then led him up through an elevator to a massive ballroom. It was highly guarded by black suited men at the entrance; there were at least a dozen.
"We need to check for devices, Sir."
Even me? What the fuck's going on? Isn't this a birthday party?
Still, Dudley complied and let them use those metal detectors on him. They didn't dare to pat him, however.
"This way."
The attendant then led him into the ballroom. It was grand, the ceiling was decorated with engravings and colors. The curtains covered the windows, and the tables were set beautifully. In the middle of the room was an empty space, likely reserved for dancing. The guests were all dressed in fine, expensive suits and gowns.
Am I the youngest guy here? Dudley wondered as he was led to his seat.
But he soon recognized a few female celebrities who were clearly younger than him. However, the men they accompanied were old with white hair, some bald, holding their waists.
Something feels off. Wait, isn't that one… She's not even eighteen. Who's that? Her grandpa?
Frowning, Dudley took his seat, which was at the front, closest to the dance floor. Being the richest man in that room, he was the center of attention right away. He was so hard to reach, with no scandals, no rumors, no media presence; everyone was interested in knowing him.
But Dudley ignored them and quickly grabbed the welcome card on the table. He was only told that it was a royal prince's birthday. So, he looked up the name and sure enough… It was Andrew.
Ugh… Let's just eat and head home.
He made up his mind. He wasn't going to move an inch from that seat that evening until the end. With a smile, he greeted whoever approached him. And damn, there were people of power. Politicians, businessmen, super-rich, retired Prime Ministers, Presidents, and so many more. Most of them were old men in their forties to sixties, some even reaching eighty. Meanwhile, the women were younger on average, some too young, clearly. The older ones were the influential ones. The younger ones were models and celebrities, or random girls he didn't know.
Gonna have to give a good lesson to Edwin. Fucker needs to know who to avoid.
Soon enough, the ball started, but Dudley didn't move. He acted busy the whole time. The food was insanely good, and he emptied his plate. He didn't drink one bit. Some women came over to ask him for a dance, but he refused with no shame. He was the hot commodity, not the other way around.
"Cigar, Sir?"
"Sure!" Dudley grabbed it, although he'd never smoked before. Anything to look busy, he reckoned.
What a boring fucking party.
He loosened his tie and fully relaxed back with no care in the world. He lit the cigar and started learning how to smoke it. A few times, he almost choked up. A twenty-year-old sharp-looking guy smoking a cigar wasn't a common sight either, so he gained even more attention.
What's so good about smoking this? This is trash.
"Is this seat taken?"
"Hm?" Dudley looked to the side, annoyed. It was an old man walking with a stick. "Go ahead, old man."
"I didn't know you liked smoking."
"Not really. It's my first time smoking."
"..."
The old man was speechless. How do you even respond to something so blunt? In the end, he just chuckled and extended his hand.
"I've looked forward to this. The richest man alive, and just twenty. I'm Henry Kissinger."
Dudley recognized the name instantly and shook hands. "The Vietnam War guy?"
Henry Kissinger chuckled awkwardly while nodding his head. "I suppose that'll be me."
"I'm Dudley Dursley."
"I am aware, as is every discerning soul in this hall," Henry Kissinger said, his old eyes gleaming. "You are an enigmatic figure, Mr. Dursley. Beyond your name, your mother's, and her well-loved cooking programme, precious little is known. One wonders—did your… magical lineage contribute to your rise?"
He knows? Hmm, not that shocking.
"Magic such as?" Dudley asked back.
"I heard about Arithmancy. You're quite well versed in it."
"And how's that really any different from those number-crunching quants on Wall Street? It's just numbers in the end. I've got a decent head for them, that's all. If it were just magic, every random wand-waving guy would be a billionaire."
Henry Kissinger nodded and shifted closer to his side before continuing his words. He wasn't just old, he even sounded old. Consider this counsel from an elder who has witnessed much. Steer clear of such gatherings and those who organise them. It is rare to encounter a young man of your caliber who has ascended from nothing to the top. The world, as is its habit, seldom tolerates ascent without seeking to unmake it."
Warning? Counsel?
Dudley wondered what it was about. The man praised him and threatened him in the same breath.
"I know," he replied. What the old man had said, he'd already faced it. Lucius was the first one to try it, and that had awakened him.
"Become a citizen of the United States, Mr. Dursley," said Henry with measured authority. "The dominoes remain upright for now. But this is the surest course to prolong their balance across the generations."
Dudley didn't like that. It was a clear threat now. Powerful people were trying to derail him from behind the scenes. And he could guess that wizards were involved.
I gotta expand Vanguards. Ten thousand… yeah, that many should do.
It was impossible to find that many wizards willing to become his soldiers. But Dudley was optimistic that many working in his companies around the world would be willing to be his reserve soldiers. Of course, they'd all have to take the unbreakable vow.
"Thanks for the advice." He nonchalantly replied.
"Ah! Dudley, thanks for coming to my party."
"..."
Two men arrived just then.
Dudley stood up to shake hands with the host of the party, reluctantly. He'd never met the Prince before, and yet the man shamelessly acted as if they were friends.
The Prince laughed and introduced the man beside him. "This is my good friend, Jeffrey. He's a highly connected man."
The whole party's a pot of shit, I guess.
______________________
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