Plop!
As soon as John finished speaking, Paul dropped to his knees.
Though he hadn't been present when the media publicly smeared Queenie, he was gripped by fear.
The wrath of the King of Horizon was not something his family could possibly withstand. Paul had no choice but to prostrate himself, hoping for even a sliver of forgiveness.
Plop!
Plop!
Plop!
Once the head of the Holland family had knelt, the surrounding media reporters dared not remain standing. One after another, they fell to their knees.
The scene was breathtaking—an ocean of bowed heads, the mighty reduced to groveling silence.
John strode forward, eyes locked on Gary. "Don't you have anything to say?"
"I… I'm telling the truth!" Gary stammered, his voice trembling as violently as his body and spirit. "Karl said he would help me pay off my gambling debts…"
He poured everything out in a single breath, trying to lessen the weight of guilt that threatened to crush him.
Paul trembled beside him.
Every time Gary uttered Karl's name, Paul slapped himself hard across the face, his hatred boiling over. If he could, he'd cut Karl into a thousand pieces.
Just then, Tim collapsed to his knees in front of Queenie, tears pooling in his eyes.
"Boss, I'm sorry! Please… give me another chance! I have a wife and kids to support…"
"Didn't you say you didn't want to eat food that came from nowhere?" Queenie's tone was cold and sharp.
"I…"
Tim could barely muster a word. Regret had filled every cell in his body, but it was far too late.
Queenie turned next to Amy and Herman. "Since you're both determined to leave Queenie Group," she said calmly, "I won't stop you. I wish you a bright future."
Puff!
The words hit like a gut punch. Amy and Herman looked as if they might cough up blood.
To offend Queenie today was to offend the Duke of Southern River. In New York, who would dare hire them now?
Her words—"a bright future"—stabbed with ironic cruelty.
After a storm of chaos, the new product launch finally reached its end.
None of the media dared to report what had transpired. Today's interview would remain buried, sealed by fear.
As for Queenie Group's product promotion…
With nearly ten billion dollars' worth of orders from the Duke of Southern River and other aristocratic families, who even needed advertising?
Meanwhile, on the top floor of Queenie Building.
Leo bowed deeply to the young man standing before him, his voice humble to the extreme. "Your Highness, are you satisfied with today's arrangements?"
John gave a small nod. "Good job. You handled everything well. You deserve recognition."
The moment the words left John's lips, Leo's face lit up like a child who had just scored perfect marks on an exam. The Duke of Southern River—usually fearsome and unreadable—now looked like a boy beaming under his teacher's praise.
But the smile didn't linger. Leo quickly composed himself and continued, "Your Highness, about the Beauty Group…"
"There's no need for it to exist any longer."
John's voice was quiet, yet each word struck like thunder.
If the Beauty Group had competed fairly, he wouldn't have interfered. But they used despicable means. For that, he would answer with force.
The Beauty Group had crossed a line—and now, it would be erased.
"They brought this on themselves," John added. "They're lucky I was here today. If not, who knows what could have happened to Queenie."
"I understand," Leo responded immediately. "I'll notify the family heads to shut down the Beauty Group at once."
He then pulled a sleek black card from his coat and presented it respectfully with both hands.
"Your Highness, this is a Supreme VIP card issued by the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. It's accepted nationwide. Please, accept it."
John hesitated for a moment, then took it. He wasn't short on money—but the gesture had value.
A moment passed before John asked a critical question. "Any clues about the fire at Sunshine Welfare Center fifteen years ago?"
He had asked Leo to investigate just yesterday. Though he hadn't expected results so soon, Leo nodded firmly.
"Yes, Your Highness. We've found some leads."
Leo, the first to ever uncover John's true identity, had proven himself efficient.
"I specifically investigated Excellence Real Estate and found a foreman involved in related projects. According to him, it was their company that caused the fire."
Getting that truth hadn't been easy—it took coercion, incentives, and relentless pressure. But results were what mattered.
The moment John heard Excellence Real Estate's name, a flash of icy light surged through his eyes.
"Excellence Real Estate… courting death. Who's behind it?"
"Ned Russell," Leo replied. "He's a member of the Russell Family from the north. They control over 90% of the real estate market there."
"But…" Leo hesitated.
"But what?" John asked.
"My forces are primarily based in South River. I can't interfere much in North River."
Leo offered a bitter smile.
New York was geographically divided by the Zingle River, running from west to east. South of it was Leo's domain. North of it—the Russell Family reigned supreme.
John thought for a moment, then said, "It's fine. I'll handle it myself. Where is Ned now?"
"According to our intel, he's currently in Los Angeles."
"Los Angeles?"
"Yes. The fifteenth of August next month is Mason Russell's 60th birthday. Ned went to prepare gifts."
"Filial, isn't he?" John sneered.
The fire that almost killed his sisters and tormented Grandpa Wodehouse still burned in his memory.
If Ned wanted to give Mason a gift, John would send one of his own.
"On August fifteenth, I'll deliver a real gift. Let's see if the Russell Family dares to accept it."
With his hands clasped behind his back, John's eyes narrowed. A silent, thunderous pressure radiated outward.
Leo's heart trembled. He could already feel it.
August fifteenth—an earthquake would erupt in the North River!
After leaving Queenie Building, Amy wandered in a daze. Her thoughts were a chaotic storm.
On the roadside, a stray dog barked at her.
"Are you laughing at me too?" she screamed, eyes red. She picked up a stone and hurled it at the animal.
Thud!
Yelp!
The dog cried out in pain and scampered away.
But watching it limp off only made Amy feel worse.
Am I just like that dog now?
A wave of sorrow surged in her chest, wild and suffocating.
"No! I won't let this stand!"
In Amy's mind, the only reason Queenie had received help from the Duke of Southern River was because of some shady, intimate relationship. And John? He must be her little plaything.
The whole situation, she thought, was utterly immoral.
Fury burning in her eyes, she dialed a number and spat into the phone, "Dad, I agree to the marriage with the Russell Family. I want the wedding as soon as possible!"