Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet

Everyone examined William's pajamas but found nothing unusual. "What's the issue here?"

"Would pajamas still look that smooth and wrinkle-free if he had just taken a nap?" the soldier known as "Chapel" pointed out. "Of course not."

Truman interjected, "But that just proves he's lying to us, not taking Benjamin's or our country's situation seriously."

"Yes, William may not have our interests at heart, but if he really didn't care, he could've simply withheld all information on Benjamin and Banning. He could have feigned ignorance, avoiding any responsibility or blame if things went wrong. But he came right out and told us that Benjamin and Banning were alive. What does that tell us?

"Gad, this guy is waiting for the perfect moment! When things become most dire, he'll suddenly reveal he knows where Benjamin is, maybe even that he can rescue him. And what would we do then? Just sit back and watch Benjamin die? No, no one would risk that. In the end, as long as our interests aren't at stake, William Devonshire could demand anything, and we'd have no choice but to agree. If we refused, the public would tear us apart."

"Well, that's an interesting theory," Truman Bull replied, half-convinced. "I hope you're right. So, tell me, what do you suggest we do?"

"Negotiate with him. I believe that if we offer him real benefits, William Devonshire will definitely rescue President Benjamin safely. Even if he delays, he would only do so to make sure Benjamin is in no immediate danger."

Everyone fell silent. Negotiating was fine, especially if Chapel's guess was accurate, which would mean they had some advantage. But to convince someone like William, who seemed willing to use the American president's safety as leverage, they'd have to offer something truly valuable.

Seeing their hesitation, Chapel smiled. "We might not even need to sacrifice our own interests to make William take the bait."

"What do you mean?" the others asked, intrigued.

"Amir Barkawi has a lot of assets in England or other countries, doesn't he?" Chapel asked with a smirk.

"Certainly. Just in London alone, we've traced at least $400 million worth of businesses linked to Barkawi."

"Only $400 million? That seems a bit low." Chapel looked pensive, then asked, "What about the total value of all his assets?"

"Roughly $2 billion."

Everyone quickly understood Chapel's meaning. Truman Bull hesitated. "Even if we could provide evidence to seize those assets, it would be complicated. And England would be keen to recoup its own losses."

"That is a complication," Chapel acknowledged, shoving his hands in his pockets. After a moment, he suggested, "What if we hint to King Philip and the English government that we'd like to see William Devonshire granted a hereditary duke title in recognition of his exceptional contributions during this crisis, which has threatened the entire capitalist world? This wouldn't cost us a thing."

He paused briefly, then added, "We could even suggest his fief be in Oxford, on those thousands of acres he's already bought. This would simplify the logistics of granting him a hereditary title."

"This is a legacy-making offer. I doubt William would refuse," Chapel concluded, "and we could even use it as leverage to make him settle for a smaller share of Barkawi's assets."

Truman shook his head in amazement. "That's a clever idea. But in this day and age, bestowing a hereditary dukedom? Gad, how many years has it been since the English Crown last granted a hereditary peerage?"

The Secretary of State shrugged. "Forget dukes; even the lowest hereditary baronies have been rare, and there's even been a century-long trend of the Crown reclaiming peerages without heirs. The whole thing is mind-boggling. Here we are, discussing pushing a not-yet-twenty-year-old into a hereditary dukedom."

The room burst into laughter.

"Yes, it's a bit absurd," said one attendee. "But if it works, all we'd need to do is publicly praise William Devonshire, throw some weight behind the idea with the English government, and let them sort out the rest."

More laughter filled the room.

"Even if William Devonshire agrees to this, convincing him to forgo even a hundred million dollars would be a win for us. Besides, with France, Germany, and Italy's leaders, King Philip, and half of England's upper echelons all benefiting from his help, plus our own endorsement, this could be feasible. We could even rally public support in England, given how much William has done. As Chapel said, his lands are already his, and he's the heir to an earldom, so there's definitely room to make this work."

"Alright, gentlemen, this is all just speculation. Let's reach out to our future duke and see where he stands."

Truman Bull ordered a reconnection to William via satellite. This time, the wait was brief—barely ten seconds.

To everyone's surprise, the background behind William was clearly an armory. The walls were lined with a variety of firearms, grenades, and sniper rifles of all models. Several of the military personnel recognized various portable explosives displayed prominently in the center.

"Mr. Devonshire, this is…" Truman Bull began, visibly taken aback. Even as Vice President, he had never seen such a large array of light and heavy weapons.

"Oh, nothing much," William replied. "I just received some bad news. The four commercial buildings around Devonshire Square were bombed. I'm getting ready to take some gear and pay back the people who bombed my buildings." He picked up a red-painted grenade from the weapon rack as he spoke. "Good thing I still have a bit of influence in England. Otherwise, it would've been tough to get my hands on hardware like this."

"A thermobaric grenade? Gad, are you insane?" a uniformed officer blurted out, his voice filled with alarm. "There's no need to use such destructive force against insurgents! I'd advise you to get rid of these weapons immediately. Keeping them at home is extremely dangerous."

"Hmm?" William looked up at the officer. "Who said this is my estate?"

With a strange smile, William left the armory, phone in hand, walking for about half a minute before pointing the camera outside. Everyone immediately recognized that this secret armory was located in a forest.

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