William looked down at Abigail's serious expression and immediately started explaining the concept of online shopping.
Seeing her deep in thought, he advised, "If you want to revolutionize logistics, you first need to make online shopping a mainstream trend. A real demand must exist for the business to take off.
But if you have the time, energy, and money to spare, it would be smarter to invest in American and Chinese e-commerce companies rather than trying to build one from scratch in England."
After pausing to think, William shook his head.
"Although the idea has potential, England is just too small. The market size and population alone limit how big such a company could grow.
Expanding into other countries would be a nightmare—protectionist policies would block us at every turn. If you really want to invest your time wisely, you should focus on growing Facebook instead."
Seeing Abigail's reluctant expression, William pulled her into his arms and reassured her, "Look, we're past the startup phase. We already have more money than we can spend.
Instead of handling everything ourselves, we should just act as angel investors—using our capital and technological advantage to buy stakes in promising companies rather than trying to build everything from the ground up."
"Then maybe I should go to the U.S. and China to look into these opportunities," Abigail said excitedly. "If online shopping is still in its infancy, I could secure early investments and grab a larger stake before the market takes off."
"Let's talk about it after your vacation."
Hearing "China," William fell into silent thought. He couldn't return home, but Abigail shouldn't have any trouble visiting.
As he was pondering, Sunday reported in his earpiece, "Sir, I have found several videos of the U.S. military hunting and killing Transformers. I can upload them to your smart glasses immediately if you wish."
Instead of answering right away, William turned to Abigail. "Let's go. There's nothing interesting left to see here. Let's head home and prepare dinner."
"Huh? You're not even going to say hello to them?"
Surprised by his abrupt departure, Abigail quickly grabbed his arm and led him toward the stairs.
"I've been learning some Chinese dishes lately. I want you to try them and tell me if they suit your taste."
---
As William and Abigail walked away, the spectators turned their heads to watch them leave. Even some of the players who weren't actively chasing the ball glanced their way.
Vivian Wembley, having just landed a perfect goal, excitedly looked toward the back row of the stands—only to find that William was already gone.
Frustrated, she muttered a curse under her breath.
---
Back at the castle, Abigail wanted to cook in private—afraid that William would tease her about her clumsy handling of ingredients.
So, after being kicked out of the kitchen, William relaxed on the sofa, sipping whiskey while watching the footage Sunday had gathered.
After spending quite some time reviewing over a dozen videos of Autobots being hunted, William frowned.
"Why are all the targets Autobots?"
"Sir, we underestimated the extent of Decepticon infiltration in human society. Over thirty years ago, the Decepticons formed an alliance with the Gould family in America.
After three decades of growth, the Gould family now has influence over certain high-ranking officials in the U.S. government.
Additionally, with intelligence provided by the Decepticons, the only information the U.S. has been acting on in the past year has been about Autobots."
Closing his eyes, William processed this new information in silence.
After about ten minutes, he asked, "Do we have any intelligence on the Decepticons in the U.S.?"
After a brief pause, Sunday replied, "Yes, Sir. Aside from the ten-plus known Decepticons I had previously recorded, the current head of the Gould family, Dylan Gould, is likely using Soundwave as his personal vehicle and intelligence officer."
"First, leak the videos of Autobots being attacked. We'll handle the rest later," William instructed.
"Understood, Sir. To avoid suspicion, I will use our Yellowstone Park base's spider-bots to infiltrate public facilities in the U.S. and release the footage from there."
"Perfect."
---
After an excessively greasy dinner, Abigail dragged William to the shooting range under the pretense of a post-meal walk.
To his surprise, her marksmanship had improved significantly.
After testing a few Glock magazines, William confirmed that she actually knew what she was doing.
Giving in to her persistent begging, he took her into the underground armory of the shooting range.
The moment they entered, Abigail's eyes lit up at the sight of over a hundred different firearms, including shoulder-fired missiles.
Excitedly, she ran around, picking out over a dozen rifles and handguns, unwilling to stop.
"Enough!" William shook his head. "With your tiny frame, if you test all of these, your arms and shoulders will be so sore tomorrow that you won't be able to lift them."
Pushing a cart loaded with ammo boxes, William took Abigail back to the shooting range.
After putting ear protection on her and helping her load the magazines, he taught her how to handle each weapon properly.
The session lasted for nearly an hour.
And somehow… by the end, the gunshots had been replaced by a very different kind of heavy breathing.
---
Meanwhile, in America, it was mid-afternoon.
The videos leaked by Sunday spread across the internet like wildfire.
Not only did Americans see them, but people all over the world also watched them online.
Some anti-American news stations even interrupted their regular programming to air the footage as an "emergency broadcast."
In an instant, the entire world plunged into chaos, suspicion, and panic.
Even William, who was still busy "exercising" with Abigail, was interrupted—his phone, which had been tossed aside, began ringing non-stop.
---
"Sir," Sunday reported, "the caller is Gareth Mallory from MI6. You haven't spoken to him in a while."
Still occupied, William had zero interest in answering.
No doubt it was about the Transformers.
But William was certain that even if he ignored the call, Gareth wouldn't dare hold a grudge.
---
An hour later, William helped a slightly disheveled Abigail back into the castle.
Just as they finished showering, the phone rang again.
This time, the caller wasn't Gareth Mallory—it was Catherine, the former Home Secretary and now a vice president at the Devonshire Group.
Answering with a chuckle, William greeted, "Hey, Catherine—let me guess. Gareth called you, didn't he?"
"Apologies, Mr. Devonshire—"
"Stop, stop—call me William. And just tell Gareth that I'll call him back later," William laughed.
"I was at the shooting range with Abigail, so I didn't hear my phone earlier."
"Good," Catherine replied, laughing as well. She didn't care whether his excuse was true or not.
"Gareth tried driving to your castle, but your security team turned him away. So he had no choice but to call me."
"Ah, I see. Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore. I'll take care of it."
"Alright, then. Goodnight, William."
"Goodnight, Catherine."
---
Hanging up, William snapped his fingers.
Immediately, Sunday relayed instructions to the castle's security team, allowing Gareth Mallory to pass.
After changing into casual clothes, William went downstairs to wait for Gareth at the castle gates.
______
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