After reviving Charles and treating his wounds, the person handling him relaxed and turned to another team member disguised as a doctor. "Bernie, your turn."
"Damn it, why am I so unlucky? A one-in-four chance, and it still falls on me," Bernie grumbled as he slipped off his doctor's coat. Still, he obediently changed into casual clothes, lay down on the stretcher, and took the medication handed to him by their team's medic, Clarence, swallowing it with water.
A few minutes later, the ambulance pulled into Monte Carlo's largest hospital. Clarence shouted to the ER doctors that they had two cases: one with a gunshot wound and another with food poisoning.
With Charles and Bernie wheeled into the hospital, Brian Mills' team of three casually drove the ambulance away, showing no sign of concern.
They returned the ambulance to the emergency company, changed out of their uniforms, and hung a "For Sale" sign on the company's entrance before locking the doors and leaving.
Sam, one of the team members, called William. "Boss, the job's done."
"Good," William replied. "I've rented four seaside villas. Make it convincing. Take your families and enjoy a few days in Monte Carlo."
"Understood."
Hanging up the call, William didn't have to wait long before the Grand Casino Hotel's butler knocked on his door and entered. "Mr. Devonshire, we've just received unfortunate news. Mr. Charles Cavendish was shot about fifteen minutes ago and is currently in surgery at the hospital."
"What?"
Feigning shock and concern, William listened to the butler's report with a grim expression. Half an hour later, he was riding in a convoy arranged by the hotel, accompanied by twenty temporary security personnel, heading to the hospital.
As the convoy approached the hospital parking lot, they were met with a sea of reporters already waiting outside. Spotting the four large SUVs escorting a Rolls-Royce, the journalists immediately realized the rumors of William's presence in Monte Carlo were true. They swarmed the vehicles, banging on windows and shouting questions.
Within an hour, the news of William's stern-faced arrival at the hospital, surrounded by over twenty security guards, was splashed across French and English media and quickly spread worldwide.
Inside the hospital, William had barely been waiting for half an hour when his phone rang. Upon answering, he heard the Duke of Devonshire's anxious voice. "How is Charles doing?"
"I don't know yet, but the situation seems promising," William replied, pausing briefly before adding, "Charles was incredibly lucky. At the time of the shooting, an ambulance carrying a tourist with food poisoning happened to pass by the scene.
"The medics managed to stop the bleeding and stabilize his chest pressure. Based on what I know, the hospital hasn't issued a critical condition notice, which means the bullet didn't hit his aorta or heart. The odds of Charles surviving are quite high."
"Thank God," the Duke sighed, clearly relieved by William's report. His greatest concern now alleviated, his sharp instincts quickly led him to a new question.
It had taken considerable effort to persuade William to handle Charles' situation by invoking the family's honor. Knowing William's intelligence, the Duke found it odd that Charles had still managed to get ambushed, especially since William would likely have arranged for protection or surveillance.
"William, was Marco's death Charles' doing?"
"No," William replied bluntly. "The culprits are someone else."
"If he's not the culprit, then why did you allow him to get shot?" Before William could answer, the Duke added knowingly, "Was it luck?"
"Exactly. Luck." William rolled his eyes, cursing the old fox silently, then said with a smirk, "I'll handle everything in Monte Carlo. Let's discuss other matters during my mother's birthday celebration in a few days."
"What matters?"
"Matters you're concerned about. Perhaps I'll have reason to congratulate you soon."
Hearing this, the Duke, who had already been suspicious, couldn't help but feel a spark of joy. He was glad he had set aside his pride to seek William's help. With William's knack for handling situations, there was a good chance that the Cavendish family might soon boast a billionaire with a net worth exceeding a hundred billion.
"Indeed, we'll need to have a good talk. I'll await your good news. Goodbye, William."
As the call ended, William muttered under his breath, "Spend ten billion to make a hundred billion—there's no such easy deal in the world."
He didn't mind meeting the Duke in a few days; in fact, he was even looking forward to it. Most of Marco's inheritance was tied up in company stocks, making it difficult to liquidate. But getting another payout from the Duke wasn't out of the question. What Charles thought about it, however, was none of William's concern. That was a Cavendish family issue.
Hours later, the light outside the operating room finally switched off. A surgeon emerged and informed William, "The surgery was a success, but we're not sure why Mr. Cavendish hasn't regained consciousness yet. If... if..."
The surgeon hesitated, glancing at William's impassive face before continuing, "If he doesn't wake up within three days, there's a high likelihood that the extended blood loss and lack of oxygen may have caused brain damage. He could... he could become a vegetative patient."
"Damn it," William cursed aloud, thinking he had botched things. However, as Charles was wheeled out of the operating room, William used his mental abilities to scan him and quickly discovered that the bastard was pretending to be unconscious.
Noticing Charles' slightly twitching eyelids, William didn't bother exposing him. He simply followed the doctors as they wheeled Charles into a VIP ward.
Let him play dead for now. Even if the doctors suspected something, unless they were absolutely certain, they wouldn't dare speak out publicly against someone backed by the Cavendish family and William himself.
By the time the truth could come out, the entire matter would already be resolved.
Checking his watch, William noted it was already 11 p.m. Leaving sixteen security guards to protect Charles, he prepared to return to the hotel for some rest.
As he reached the hospital lobby, he spotted a middle-aged man accompanied by five or six uniformed officers quickly approaching him.
The man pulled out his badge and briefly showed it to William. "Mr. Devonshire, I'm Detective Louis Delaware with the French police."
"Good evening, Detective," William said, shaking his hand. "Is there an update on the case?"
Louis nodded. "Two hours ago, we received a report of a female body found on the beach. Officers at the scene confirmed the deceased as Ms. Susie Cannes.
"Shortly after, my team discovered Marco Cannes' bodyguard, Sergei, dead in his hotel room at the French Hotel, shot three times.
"Our initial investigation suggests the suspects are Nick and Audrey Spitz."
"Nick and Audrey?" William asked in genuine surprise. "How is that possible?"
"Whether the Spitz couple are guilty is something we'll determine through further investigation. What I'd like to know now is why, a few days ago in Paris, you invited the Spitzes—who are unrelated to you—to your home."
As Louis asked the question, the officers behind him subtly shifted, their hands resting on their gun holsters. Slowly, they spread out to surround William.
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Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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