111: Chapter 111 The Old Tycoon Kneels: Mr. Chen, Please Save Me

Titan Center, top floor.

In front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, rain washed against the glass, blurring the dazzling night view of Manhattan.

Chen Yuan sat in that black executive chair, a symbol of the pinnacle of power.

He twirled the Montblanc fountain pen in his hand, his expression languid, as if waiting for a good show to begin.

"Ding."

The elevator doors opened.

Alfred pushed the wheelchair, walking slowly from the end of the long corridor.

David Rockefeller, in the wheelchair, looked like a mummified corpse just dug out of a grave.

The overbearing arrogance and the sense of controlling everything from just a few hours ago at the manor had completely vanished.

In its place was a bone-deep fear and decay.

There was not a trace of color on his face, and the hissing of the ventilator sounded exceptionally harsh in the silent office.

Those eyes that had once made countless politicians and tycoons tremble were now left with nothing but turbidity and pleading.

"Mr. Chen..." Alfred just started to speak.

"Shh." Chen Yuan raised a finger, interrupting him.

He didn't even look up, focusing solely on a report in his hand.

"I am busy. Those who know the rules should know how to wait."

Alfred's cheek twitched.

As the head butler of the Rockefeller Family, he had never suffered such indignity in his life.

But he dared not lash out. Because he could feel the woman standing in the shadows—Alice—staring fixedly at his neck.

If he dared to move even an inch, his head would be gone the next second.

Time ticked by, second by second. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Half an hour.

For a dying patient in the late stages of cancer, every second was agony.

David Rockefeller felt as if his lungs were burning, and every breath felt like swallowing a razor blade.

The intense pain made his whole body tremble, and cold sweat soaked his expensive silk shirt.

But he dared not make a sound. He didn't even dare to let Alfred wipe the sweat for him.

He was afraid. Afraid that the young man would withdraw that only lifeline because of even the slightest displeasure.

"Snap." Chen Yuan finally closed the folder.

He looked up, his pitch-black eyes sweeping over the master and servant before him.

That look was as if he were watching two stray dogs.

"David." Chen Yuan spoke, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth.

"You are late. I remember saying that I have severe 'separation anxiety.' You made me wait so long..."

He smiled, the smile full of cruelty. "I am very unhappy."

David Rockefeller's heart gave a violent jolt.

He tried his best to struggle out of the wheelchair, wanting to stand up. Alfred tried to help him, but was pushed away.

"No... no need..." The old man's voice was hoarse, like a bellows.

He shakily braced himself against the armrests, his legs trembling, as he inched himself off the wheelchair.

Then, on the expensive Persian carpet, in front of the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the entire New York.

This centenarian, who once controlled half the world's oil lifeline and could make Wall Street tremble with a mere stomp of his foot, felt his knees go weak.

"Thump." He knelt before Chen Yuan.

This kneel shattered the century-old pride of the Rockefeller Family. It also shattered the last bit of dignity of the old era.

"Mr. Chen..." David lay on the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold floor, tears and snot streaming down.

"I was wrong... I was blind... I shouldn't have coveted your assets... shouldn't have threatened you..."

"Please... save me... I don't want to die... I have money... I have many connections... I can give them all to you..."

"As long as you can let me live... I'll even be your dog..."

Chen Yuan looked down at the weeping old man at his feet. There was not a shred of pity in his heart.

This is the essence of power. In this world, there are no eternal kings, only eternal interests.

When the sickle of death is held against one's throat, so-called nobility and so-called dignity are nothing but a joke.

"Money?" Chen Yuan stood up and walked over to David.

He extended his foot and, with the tip of his polished leather shoe, gently lifted the old man's chin.

"David, do you think I'm short of money now? Those so-called petrodollars of yours are worth less than waste paper in my eyes."

David shuddered. He looked into Chen Yuan's cold eyes and felt like an ant that had been stripped bare.

"Then... then what do you want? As long as I have it... as long as I have it..."

"I want your loyalty." Chen Yuan's voice was low and filled with bewitching power.

"Not the kind of agreement signed on paper, nor that hypocritical alliance relationship. What I want is... absolute obedience."

He pulled a small, transparent glass bottle from his pocket. Inside was a capsule emitting a faint blue glow.

It was no miracle drug. It was a specially encrypted Nano Medical Worm, and also a biological lock that could be detonated at any time.

"This medicine can eliminate all the cancer cells in your body and let you live for another ten years." Chen Yuan tossed the pill casually.

"Roll, roll—" The pill rolled on the floor and finally stopped by David's hand.

"However." Chen Yuan crouched down, looking at the greedy and fearful eyes of the old man.

"Every year, you need to come to me to receive the 'antidote'."

"If I don't give it, or if you try to crack it yourself... those cute little bugs will turn into the deadliest poison, eating you clean from the inside out."

David Rockefeller looked at the blue capsule. He knew that as long as he swallowed it, he would completely lose his freedom and become a puppet for this young man.

But did he have a choice? The instinct to survive overcame everything.

He lunged over like a dog, grabbed the pill, and without even drinking water, stuffed it directly into his mouth, fearing that if he was a second late, Chen Yuan would change his mind.

"Gulp." The pill went down. Just a few seconds later.

A cool sensation instantly swept through his entire body, and the intense pain that had tormented him for months miraculously disappeared.

A long-lost sense of strength returned to that decaying body. "Oh, God..."

David felt the changes in his body, tears of old age streaming down his face. He knelt properly again and kowtowed heavily to Chen Yuan.

This time, he was sincere. "Thank you, Master... Thank you for the medicine, Master!"

Chen Yuan stood up and clapped his hands, as if he had just completed a trivial matter.

"That was a down payment." He turned and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, turning his back to this newly acquired "old servant."

"Go back. Consolidate your resources and send them to my office tomorrow morning."

"Remember." Chen Yuan looked at the night scene outside the window that belonged to him, a wild and arrogant arc curling at the corner of his mouth.

"From today on, the Rockefeller brand belongs to Chen."