Wenster was still lost in the revelry of the previous night.
Empty bottles rolled across the streets, and on some corners, drunkards who hadn’t returned home slept on the roads.
Were it not for the not-yet-frigid October winds of Beihai, many would have frozen to death.
On such a morning, even the most diligent fishermen might linger in bed, mourning for the God of Wine who will never return.
However, several of Klaus Company’s latest model cars shattered Wenster’s lingering drunkenness as they drove from Sea God Avenue onto Ice Ocean Street, heading toward Wenster’s busiest northwest commercial district.
Their destination was clear: Beihai Avenue 432 Building A Unit 301.
While this address might puzzle others, telling it to members of Wenster’s underworld would spark immediate recognition.
This was the headquarters of the Bolita Clan, or more formally, the main office of Bolita Venture Capital Company.
The people driving over were the various heads of the Bolita Clan summoned by a phone call last night, arriving this morning for a meeting.
Though they arrived on schedule, each person still couldn’t help but yawn endlessly as they got out of their vehicles.
In their view, the underground war had already ended. After young master Leonardo led the family’s elite into complete defeat, they essentially abandoned resistance.
Later, Alberto also aligned with their wishes and negotiated peace with the Cabreya family. The Bolita Clan was expected to dissolve after last night, and they were all ready for a change in allegiance.
So whether disheartened or harboring ulterior motives, most drank the night away.
Who knew, halfway through their drinking, a phone call would come in, saying Joan was dead, killed by the youngest son of the Bolita Clan.
The news was utterly shocking; many sobered up and began making calls to verify the authenticity of the information.
The eventual conclusion was that the news was accurate; Joan was indeed dead.
The name was entirely unfamiliar.
As someone who had long been on the periphery of the family, many of the clan leaders hadn’t seen Ethan. Even if they’d heard of him, they only knew Alberto had a young son studying art in the Royal Capital, his name barely known.
Could such a person really kill Joan?
Many doubted it; many minds raced. Even with Joan dead, there was Fred. What would become of the Bolita Clan?
Some were simply pleased, still loyal to Alberto; killing Joan was revenge, worthy of a drink.
So another night was spent with alcohol.
Now, as they got out of the car, everyone smelled of booze, their eyes drowsy. Meeting each other, the first words were almost always: "Really?"
And then silence followed.
At the very least, those who could come here this morning, regardless of their thoughts, still held some reverence and loyalty to the Bolita surname.
After smoking a cigarette outside, the group went upstairs together.
The alcohol ban’s impact was substantial, and even the most central business buildings in Wenster seemed deserted.
The Bolita Venture Capital Company, however, was already open, with staff waiting inside.
This was arranged by Anya; though the Bolita Clan had declined, they could still mobilize a few employees.
Led by the staff, the leaders entered the prepared meeting room.
Sitting down, Ethan was nowhere to be seen, with only the wall clock ticking forward.
With five minutes left to nine o’clock, many were still absent from the meeting room.
Several major leaders exchanged glances, one of them in charge of the family’s casino business, Eugene, chuckled and said, "Looks like some people don’t plan to come."
Others remained silent.
Five more minutes passed, and it was nine o’clock, still no Ethan.
It wasn’t until four minutes past nine that hurried footsteps echoed from outside the meeting room.
Then, an elegantly dressed young man in a fitted white suit strode into the room.
Taking the main seat unapologetically, he raised his left hand, pointing at the latest wristwatch’s dial, saying, "Sorry, after finishing work last night, I went home to shower and catch up on sleep. I woke up late, living far away. I’m very sorry for being late."
His speech was rapid, overwhelming, his appearance excessively youthful, like someone just of age?
This young man, could he have taken out Joan?
For a moment, everyone present felt a bit dazed.
After a while, perhaps Eugene, the most talkative, finally spoke, "Young master, I heard..."
"Oh, right, there’s another matter I forgot to mention: Fred is also dead. Last night, I personally took him out. Being too close got my black suit ruined, so I had to wear this white one. Luckily, I didn’t wear this white one," Ethan said, glancing at Eugene.
"What were you going to say?"
"Nothing..." Eugene shook his head quickly, the feeling of unreality growing stronger.
What had he just heard? Fred was also dead?
Regarding Joan’s death...
In fact, opinions on Joan’s death varied.
Many speculated Joan might have died at the hands of the Conte family.
After all, many knew Alberto and the Conte family had good relations, and it was the Conte family facilitating the negotiations and executing them.
Moreover, Joan’s death aligned with the Conte family’s interests.
An emerging Cabreya family was clearly more threatening than a fully weakened Bolita Clan.
So many felt the claim Joan was killed by Ethan was merely an excuse under some conspiracy.
This was also why the meeting room wasn’t filled.
But now, this puppet-like young man suddenly claimed to have taken out Fred as well.
Fred wasn’t a fool; he was powerful with strong forces. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ɴovelfire.net
Last night, some saw him leave Beihai Star with his men, at least alive then.
So unless Fred was stupid, he’d immediately rally his troops to defend.
Such a Fred, to kill him might spark another war.
Yet now, he had vanished silently?
"Oh, my apologies, I forgot to introduce myself." The handsome young man in the main seat lightly tapped his forehead, then sat upright, hands crossed before him.
Though he sat as high as everyone else, there was inexplicably a sense of superiority.
He gazed down at everybody and slowly said, "My name is Ethan Polleta. From now on, I’ll be managing the family."
The meeting room lights cast down, illuminating the emblem on his left ring finger, entwined with black mud and thorns.