Walking into the polo field and seeing that training was about to begin, William had no interest in greeting these people who were just taking advantage of his generosity.
Pulling Abigail along, he headed straight for the simple spectator stand, taking a seat in the back row. He then signaled Sunday to send over two freshly squeezed juices.
Unfortunately, even if he wanted to keep a low profile, it was impossible.
Barely a few minutes after sitting down, laughter erupted from outside the field. Soon after, a crowd of players' families and students, who had come to watch, recognized him and Abigail.
The next moment, screams and excited whispers rippled across the audience, startling the eight players on the field. They immediately tightened their reins, trying to calm their spooked horses.
The coaches, now fuming with frustration, turned to see William waving at the crowd, with a beaming Abigail nestled in his arms.
Seeing that the disruption was caused by William, and knowing he hadn't done anything on purpose, even those who wanted to make a fuss had no real grounds to criticize him.
Besides, this was private property. If William got annoyed, he could simply kick them all out and restrict access to the polo field in the future.
Luckily, it was already 4 p.m., and one of the coaches smartly had the players mount up and begin warm-up laps around the field.
The rhythmic sound of hooves quickly drowned out the crowd's noise, shifting their focus back to the match. Soon, the murmurs subsided, though a few still stole glances at William and occasionally shot glares at Abigail.
William, however, was only interested in one person—Vivian Wembley.
Taking out his phone, he discreetly snapped a picture of her. Within moments, Sunday pulled up her entire background on the screen.
Abigail, puzzled, glanced at his phone before her eyes flickered with curiosity. "You interested in her?"
"No," William chuckled. "Not her, but her identity."
Holding Abigail closer, he continued, "She's the last known descendant of Merlin."
"Merlin?" Abigail covered her mouth in disbelief. "The Merlin? The legendary wizard? You must be joking, darling. Merlin is just a myth, isn't he?"
"That's what I heard," William shrugged. "But who cares if it's true or not? Even if she really is his descendant, so what?
It's not like she's inheriting a fortune or a noble title."
Abigail thought about it and realized that, aside from the initial surprise, there wasn't much to be jealous of.
But then, another thought crossed her mind—was William interested in Vivian romantically?
Rolling her eyes, William sighed. "That girl's face is rounder and bigger than yours, her figure doesn't compare to yours at all, and aside from being a bookworm like you, she's just an academic geek.
She's nowhere near as important as you, who's been managing over a dozen of my companies."
With every word William spoke, Abigail's smile grew brighter. "Alright, you pass this time. Otherwise, I swear I'd tell Nissa to pester you every single day."
Having appeased Abigail, William turned his focus back to Vivian, watching her swing her mallet and strike the polo ball.
He then typed a message to Sunday on his phone: "Find me footage of the U.S. military capturing or hunting Transformers over the past year."
"Understood, Sir."
Since Optimus Prime and his team were about to arrive in England and would soon be working for him, William needed to lay the groundwork.
At the very least, he needed to let the public know about the Transformers' existence.
And more importantly, he needed to shift the blame for any potential conflicts onto the Americans.
If footage of the U.S. military hunting Transformers spread worldwide—alongside the video of the Decepticons massacring an American military base in the desert—people would naturally assume that the Americans' aggression was what led to the disaster.
He could then leak the fact that the U.S. had been secretly studying Megatron for years, making people believe that America's technological advancements were largely due to reverse-engineering Transformers.
After that, he'd stage Decepticon attacks in England and other parts of the world, letting Optimus Prime and his Autobots intervene.
To solidify their presence, he'd even summon giant monsters and magical creatures from his hidden planet and have Kingsman and the Autobots work together to take them down.
This way, while Optimus and his team secured their position in England, Kingsman's reputation would soar.
And as the leader of Kingsman, William would have the perfect excuse to interfere in England's Ministry of Magic affairs—even recruiting wizards into Kingsman.
If things went well, he might even establish an English version of the Men in Black.
---
While waiting, a drone carrying a small basket slowly descended from the sky and hovered above William.
He reached up, took the basket, and pulled out two large thermos cups along with two sandwiches before hanging the empty basket back onto the drone. Without needing further instruction, it automatically flew back to the castle.
Taking a sip of the cold, refreshing juice, Abigail ignored the jealous and envious whispers from the crowd.
But when she overheard someone saying, "Wouldn't it be great if cafés could use drones to deliver drinks?", she suddenly froze for a moment.
Then, turning to William, she asked, "Darling, do you think a drone delivery service—for food, daily necessities, small packages, and letters—could actually work?"
---
"Hmm?"
William had been scoffing at the amateurish polo match before him, thinking that his mother's £300,000 sponsorship was a total waste on these low-level players.
But the moment Abigail mentioned drone delivery, he immediately recalled his past life in China.
Without hesitation, he nodded.
"Of course it's possible. But given England's current infrastructure, setting up and scaling such a business would require a huge amount of effort and investment.
Still, if it succeeds, the company's value could easily rival that of a national power company."
"Really?"
Abigail never doubted William's business acumen. Her excitement surged, but before she could get ahead of herself, William pulled her close and kissed her gently.
"Don't forget," he reminded her. "You're already managing over a dozen of my companies. Where will you find the time for this?
Not to mention, I'm not going to personally oversee this venture. At most, I'll give you some guidance."
"You bastard," Abigail grumbled, playfully pinching his waist. "I'm trying to help you make money."
William merely shrugged and quipped, "Darling, you have to understand—if I got bogged down by all these little projects, I wouldn't have had the time to invent so many new technologies.
And without those, I wouldn't be where I am today."
To Abigail, William's reasoning was completely logical.
But she had finally come up with a promising business idea—one that William himself believed in. She wasn't about to let it go so easily.
Resting her head on his shoulder, she pondered quietly for a long while—so long that William assumed she had given up.
Then, she suddenly said, "As long as you provide the ideas and technology, I'll take care of everything else.
If necessary, I'll leak the concept to the public—there are plenty of investors eager to work with us."
"...Wait, are you actually serious about this?"
______
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