After the banquet, Viscount Charles Cavendish made his way toward the press conference venue, eager to hear William's speech firsthand.
The moment he stepped inside, William, seated at the press conference table, immediately noticed him.
It was true that the Devonshire and Cavendish families were related, but William had no intention of acknowledging that connection.
And Charles, knowing better than to push the issue, wouldn't dare force William to recognize him as an uncle.
After all, 99.9% of his wealth came from William's intervention, which not only helped him survive a deadly succession battle but also secured him nearly a billion dollars in inheritance.
Moreover, Charles had personally witnessed how ruthless William could be when dealing with his enemies.
So when William's gaze landed on him, Charles quickly raised a hand with a bright smile, offering a friendly wave.
Unfortunately for him, William simply glanced at him before looking away, not nodding, not smiling—completely ignoring him.
Charles didn't dare show any sign of dissatisfaction. Faced with the curious gazes of those around him, he could only shrug helplessly and mutter an apology.
Just then, a reporter stood up and posed a question to William.
"Mr. Devonshire, don't you think your spaceship should be accessible to all nations?"
Hearing this, William scoffed and responded bluntly,
"You should leave this press conference immediately, jump into the Thames, and let the cold water wake you up.
And if you sink and don't come back up, at least you'll be helping the world conserve food."
The entire room fell silent for a split second before murmurs and stifled laughter spread through the crowd.
William wasn't finished.
"Oh, and if you'd like to protest or take me to court, please speak to that gentleman over there."
He gestured toward a well-dressed man standing nearby.
"His name is Anthony. He's a partner at the esteemed Master Law Firm and also my personal attorney.
If you or your newspaper wish to sue me, Master Law's twelve senior lawyers and over a hundred associates would be delighted to receive your case.
Isn't that right, Anthony?"
The lawyer straightened his posture and respectfully replied,
"Indeed, Mr. Devonshire. In fact, if you need us to, we'd be more than happy to take on a few extra lawsuits, ones that drag on for years."
"What?!"
The entire room erupted into chaos.
Several people swore outright.
"F***! Lawsuits that last years? And handled by one of the most powerful law firms in England?"
"This is a blatant strategy to financially strangle the opposition!"
"Who's the poor fool that pissed off William Devonshire?"
"Apparently, a few newspapers… but I heard they already went bankrupt."
"Hah! You must be new here. William Devonshire once spent over a hundred million dollars just to let Master Law's legal hounds bury any media outlet that spread false stories about him—regardless of whether he won or lost."
With that revelation, the conference hall became as noisy as a marketplace.
Meanwhile, the royal guards—acting on Philip's orders—began subtly closing in on Charles Cavendish.
However, before they could fully surround him, Charles suddenly noticed their approach.
Feigning ignorance, he briskly made his way across the room, weaving through the crowd until he reached the side of the press conference stage.
Turning to Abigail, he greeted her with an enthusiastic smile.
"Miss Chase, do you remember me? I'm Charles Cavendish."
Abigail turned to look at him and smiled politely.
"Hello, Mr. Cavendish."
Hearing this, Anthony and the other lawyers accompanying Abigail relaxed slightly, lowering their guard.
—
William, however, had been monitoring the royal guards' movements with his psychic senses.
At first, he assumed they were targeting him.
But when he realized they were after Charles, his curiosity piqued.
Narrowing his eyes, William scanned Charles with his psychic power.
Within seconds, his brows furrowed.
Leaning toward Wilson, he whispered,
"Have someone keep an eye on Charles Cavendish—or better yet, detain him. I want to see him after the press conference."
Wilson was momentarily startled, then followed William's gaze toward Charles and Abigail.
That's when he noticed several of his grandfather Philip's guards subtly positioning themselves around Charles.
Realizing something was off, Wilson immediately nodded.
"Understood. I'll get more men on it right away."
Without hesitation, he stood up and left without so much as an explanation to the journalists around him.
—
A few minutes later, the press conference resumed its orderly format.
Wilson returned, this time accompanied by a few additional royal guards.
With a broad smile, he walked over to Abigail.
"Miss Chase, could I trouble you for a moment?"
"William asked me about the dinner arrangements, but when I called Devonshire Manor, Lady Lena told me you were in charge of tonight's banquet.
She said any questions should go through you."
Dinner banquet?
Abigail was momentarily confused before quickly realizing what was happening.
Feigning frustration, she let out an exaggerated sigh.
"God, the banquet has already been arranged. Is William really considering changing the venue or the menu at this hour?"
As she spoke, she subtly shifted toward Wilson.
Within a few steps, she had successfully distanced herself from Charles Cavendish.
The smooth maneuver left Charles stunned.
By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.
Two of Wilson's men discreetly reached into their jackets, their hands resting on concealed weapons.
Using the fabric of their coats to shield their movements, they subtly aimed their guns at Charles.
Meanwhile, two more guards stepped in from behind, flanking him on either side.
With four guns now pointed at him, Charles knew better than to resist.
Seeing this, Abigail immediately understood—she had nearly been taken hostage.
But why?
Charles was genuinely related to the Devonshire family.
She had even met him several times before while accompanying Lena.
Every time he saw Lena—who was only a few years his senior—his attitude was almost reverent.
Yet now, William was having him detained?
Concerned, she whispered to Wilson,
"What's going on? What's wrong with Charles?"
"Apologies, Abigail, but I don't know."
Wilson subtly nodded toward William, who glanced in his direction but showed no reaction before resuming the press conference.
Wilson then lowered his voice and continued,
"It's not just William who wants Charles detained—my grandfather's guards are after him too."
"King Philip?"
Abigail's brows knitted together.
Wilson's eyes suddenly brightened with an idea.
"If you want to find out what's going on, why don't we question Viscount Cavendish ourselves?"
"Yeah, right," Abigail scoffed.
Rolling her eyes, she retorted,
"That sounds like your way of getting yourself into trouble.
Besides..."
She hesitated for a moment before bluntly stating,
"Besides, I don't feel particularly safe when I'm with you."
(End of Chapter)
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