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Chapter_199
Tyson asked, “Mr. Damian Goodman, how should we proceed this time? Are we still keeping it from Mr. Braydon Goodman? His men are still stationed outside West Isle.”
Damian maintained a neutral expression, a cold smile appearing on his wrinkled face. “Does Braydon think those men can trap me? That’s laughable,” Damian thought.
“This time, I’ll leave openly. My grandson needs to understand who is truly in charge of the Goodman family,” Damian said.
The news of Damian leaving West Isle to return to the heart of the Goodman family quickly spread throughout the underworld of Mysonna. By the time Braydon received the news, his men stationed at the island had already been defeated. His eyes betrayed no surprise, only a chilling coldness that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.
Carson, who stood nervously by Braydon’s side, was trembling with fear. He was a loyal supporter of Braydon, but he hadn’t anticipated that Damian could overcome the obstacles and return to Mysonna. Damian’s power and reputation were formidable.
Braydon played with a lighter in his hands. The flickering firelight cast shifting shadows across his face, and the small scar on his cheek only added to the intensity of his expression. After a long silence, Braydon chuckled softly before breaking into laughter, a sharp and eerie sound.
Carson did not dare to lift his head, shrinking into himself as much as he could. With only two people in the room, there was nowhere to hide.
Braydon’s gaze shifted toward Carson, cold and mocking. His voice was low and smooth, “Damian is something else. All these years, he stayed on West Isle to mislead me. I foolishly thought he had no followers left, no power to rise again. Today, he’s truly humbled me.”
Carson lowered his head even further, his anxiety deepening.
“Chief Braydon, since Damian left West Isle this time, he hasn’t left anyone behind. It seems he’s openly challenging you. Sending him back won’t be easy this time,” Carson said.
Braydon’s lips curled into a thin smile, his dark eyes holding an intensity that bordered on madness.
“So what if he’s challenging me?” Braydon said, his tone laced with confidence. “He’s not the underground king he used to be. And I’m not the Braydon who could be pushed around anymore.”
Carson, however, could feel the tension in the room building. He knew a little about Braydon’s past—a part of his history that no one dared to mention. Before Braydon became the head of the Goodman family, he was a very different person.
Braydon looked up, his cold gaze fixing on Carson. “How are things on Yvette’s side? Any news?”
Carson quickly outlined what he knew. “Chief Braydon, we’ve located where Ms. Zeller is staying. The property was purchased by a man. We’ve been investigating for a long time, even using government connections, but we still haven’t identified him. The officials we’ve bribed say the villa’s owner’s identity is classified as top-secret. As for Ms. Zeller, her counter-surveillance skills are exceptional. Our agents lost track of her after just a few minutes, leaving us unable to follow her.”
Carson hesitated, unsure if he should continue. Braydon’s mood seemed volatile.
Braydon’s cold smile grew, and his voice turned stern. “Continue. But what else?”
A cold sweat formed on Carson’s brow. “There’s more, Chief Braydon. It’s not just Ms. Zeller living in the villa. There are four men and one woman. We’ve identified the woman as Mr. Nathan Goodman’s girlfriend, Sienna. But we haven’t been able to gather any significant information about the other four men since they’ve remained out of sight.”
Braydon threw the lighter in his hand across the room, and it hit Carson’s forehead. Blood began to trickle down, but Carson remained still, not daring to move. The blood flowed, staining his face, but he didn’t react.
“Useless,” Braydon spat. “All of you are useless! Yvette is in Mysonna, and I still don’t know anything about her. What is the punishment hall under your watch doing? I’ll give you three more days. If you can’t get the information I need, you can forget about your position as head of the punishment hall. Leave.”
Carson, his face drenched in blood, bowed deeply and turned to leave. As he reached the door, Braydon’s voice echoed in the room.
“No wonder Yvette chose Charles over you,” Braydon remarked, his words sharp.
Carson clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. He pushed the door open and walked out, his mind racing.
What’s the point of being ‘great’? Charles is just a dead man walking. The real power lies in survival, Carson thought to himself.
The Royal Phoenix was the largest private club in Mysonna, combining leisure and entertainment with high privacy. It was the favored haunt of Mysonna’s wealthy elite. Usually, it was bustling with people, but today, it was unusually quiet. The staff remained on high alert, and no outsiders were allowed inside.
There was only one reason for the atmosphere: Damian was there.
Some people who had planned to enter were stopped by the staff, and upon hearing that Damian was present, they left without protest.
Curious onlookers lingered at a distance, speculating about the guest Damian was hosting.
“Who could it be? What kind of important person would warrant a personal invitation from Damian?” they wondered. Damian was a legendary figure who had once unified Mysonna’s underworld. Some of these onlookers weren’t even born when he was at the height of his power.
Tyson stood at the door, his posture straight and rigid, his expression cold and unreadable. People from high society quickly recognized him, and the change in their demeanor was instant. Tyson was known as Damian’s right-hand man, a figure of immense respect.
Rumor had it that Tyson had single-handedly wiped out an entire gang in one night. The crowd began to part as people gave Tyson a wide berth. They were now even more intrigued by the guest Damian was expecting.
It was said that Damian had not even returned to the Goodman family house or seen his grandsons before heading straight to the Royal Phoenix. Who could this guest be? The crowd waited, their curiosity piqued.
As time passed, Tyson remained unmoved, maintaining his calm and stoic demeanor. Eventually, he turned his gaze to the person who had just disembarked from a bus across the street.
She’s always so unpredictable, Tyson thought.
Yvette adjusted her baseball cap, revealing just a hint of her chin, and slowly walked toward the Royal Phoenix with her hands in her pockets. The crowd, focused on Tyson, didn’t notice her arrival. They would never have guessed that the person Damian had invited would arrive by bus.
Tyson approached Yvette and bowed respectfully. “Ms. Zeller, Mr. Goodman is waiting for you in the gun room.”
The onlookers exchanged surprised glances. It wasn’t until they saw Tyson’s respectful gesture that they realized Yvette’s significance. The sight of someone so composed and powerful arriving by bus left them in awe.
