I stood in the shadows of the hallway leading to my apartnt, listening intently as William Vance spoke in hushed tones with his subordinate. After yesterday's confrontation and the suspicious accusation that I'd sohow caused his illness, I'd been on high alert, constantly monitoring my surroundings.
"Pull back all surveillance on Knight," Vance ordered, his voice low but clear to my enhanced senses. "We're no longer interfering in his conflict with Julian Hawthorne."
His subordinate hesitated. "Sir, are you certain? Hawthorne is—"
"I said pull back," Vance snapped. "Knight isn't what I thought he was. Let's see how he handles himself against Hawthorne without our... interference."
I waited until they left before continuing to my apartnt, their conversation turning over in my mind. So Vance had been watching all along. And now he was stepping back to see how I'd fare against this Julian Hawthorne person—whoever that was.
Fine by . I'd never wanted anyone's protection or interference.
Once inside my small apartnt, I set to work. Today's goal was clear: financial independence. The Divine Soul Nourishnt Pills I'd refined yesterday could fetch a decent price, enough to start building my own resources. I spent most of the morning making additional batches, working with practiced efficiency that would have shocked my forr self.
By midday, I had twenty pills ready for sale. These would provide with enough funds to survive without relying on anyone else's charity. But there was one more pill I wanted to create—not for profit, but as a gift.
I carefully selected the rarest herbs from my dwindling collection, focusing my energy as I ground them to a fine powder. The Hydrating Pill I was creating was specifically designed for Isabelle's unique constitution. She'd never ntioned her chronic dryness issues, but my dical eye had noticed the subtle signs—her slightly chapped lips despite constant application of balm, the way she always kept water nearby.
After three hours of painstaking work, I held up a small, glistening blue pill that shimred with condensation even in the dry air. Perfect.
I dressed in my best clothes—which weren't much, just a clean button-up shirt and slacks that weren't visibly worn—and made my way to Isabelle's residence. The security recognized now and let pass with minimal hassle.
When Isabelle opened her door, her smile sent a familiar warmth through my chest.
"Liam, what a nice surprise," she said, stepping aside to let in.
Her apartnt was elegant without being ostentatious, filled with books and art that spoke of genuine taste rather than a desire to impress.
"I wanted to apologize," I began, standing awkwardly in her living room.
She tilted her head. "For what?"
"For how I handled things with your uncle yesterday. I wasn't very... diplomatic."
A small laugh escaped her. "Is that what you call throwing one of his n across the room? Not very diplomatic?"
I felt my face warm. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that." My Virtual Library Empire (*) thanks you for reading at the source.
Isabelle approached , her expression softening. "Liam, stop apologizing for standing up for yourself. My uncle deserved every bit of what happened. In fact..." She paused, her eyes eting mine directly. "I found it refreshing to see soone finally show him he can't bully everyone into submission."
"You did?"
"Absolutely." She smiled again, and sothing in her eyes made my heart race. "Most n turn into simpering fools around my family, desperate for approval or connections. But you—you just want to be treated with basic respect. It's... nice."
I cleared my throat, suddenly self-conscious. "I, um, I made sothing for you," I said, pulling out the small box containing the Hydrating Pill.
"You did? What—"
A loud knocking interrupted us, followed imdiately by the door swinging open without waiting for an answer. A tall young man strode in as if he owned the place, dressed in what must have been designer clothes from head to toe. Two assistants followed behind him, one carrying flowers, the other a large wrapped package.
"Isabelle, darling!" the man exclaid, arms wide in a theatrical gesture. "I've been absolutely dying to see you again!"
I instinctively stepped back, putting the gift box in my pocket. Isabelle's expression shifted subtly—a tightness around her eyes that hadn't been there monts before.
"Julian," she said coolly. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
Julian Hawthorne—it had to be him. So this was the rival Vance had ntioned. Everything about him scread wealth and privilege, from his perfectly styled hair to his handmade leather shoes.
"I simply couldn't wait another day," he gushed, handing her the massive bouquet his assistant had been carrying. "Eldoria seed terribly dull knowing you were here in Havenwood."
His eyes finally registered my presence, scanning from top to bottom with barely concealed disdain. "And who might this be?" he asked, not bothering to address directly.
Isabelle's spine straightened slightly. "This is Liam Knight, a dear friend of mine."
Julian raised an eyebrow. "Knight? Never heard of the family."
"That's because I don't have one," I replied evenly.
This seed to amuse him. "No family? How fascinating. Are you Isabelle's... charity case, perhaps? She's always had a soft spot for the less fortunate."
My fingers curled into fists, but Isabelle spoke before I could respond.
"Liam is a gifted healer," she said firmly. "His talents are extraordinary."
Julian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Is that so? Well, everyone needs hobbies, I suppose." He turned back to with an extended hand. "Julian Hawthorne, heir to Hawthorne Enterprises in Eldoria. Perhaps you've heard of us? We only operate in about forty countries."
I stepped forward and took his hand. His grip tightened imdiately, trying to establish dominance—a schoolyard tactic dressed up in expensive cologne.
But I wasn't the sa man I'd been even a month ago. My cultivation had strengthened not just my senses but my physical body as well.
"Nice to et you," I said quietly, slowly increasing the pressure of my grip.
Julian's expression changed rapidly—from playful disdain to confusion, then alarm, and finally pain as I squeezed just enough to make my point. His knees actually buckled slightly before he caught himself.
"What—" he gasped, trying to pull his hand away. I held it firmly for one more second before releasing him.
He cradled his hand, his face flushed with embarrassnt and rage. His assistants stepped forward, uncertain what to do.
"Strong grip you have there," Julian said through clenched teeth, flexing his fingers. "For soone who looks so... unimpressive."
I smiled thinly. "Appearances can be deceiving."
His eyes narrowed, all pretense of friendliness gone. "Indeed they can." He turned to Isabelle, visibly struggling to regain his composure. "Isabelle, darling, perhaps we could have so privacy? I have matters to discuss that aren't ant for... general company."
Isabelle looked between us, and for just a mont, I thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward.
"Actually, Julian," she said calmly, "Liam and I were in the middle of sothing important. Perhaps you could co back tomorrow, as originally planned?"
Julian's face darkened, his eyes flicking back to with undisguised hatred. In that mont, I knew I'd made an enemy—but I also knew I didn't care. Not when Isabelle was looking at with quiet approval in her eyes.
"Of course," Julian finally said, his voice tight. "Tomorrow, then."
As he turned to leave, he leaned close to , his voice a whisper ant only for my ears: "Enjoy your mont, nobody. It won't last."
But the way his hand still trembled told everything I needed to know. Julian Hawthorne had just discovered that wealth and status couldn't protect him from everything—or everyone.
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