Just as William and Marcus were finalizing the paperwork for the Veyron, the door to the dealership swung open, and in walked a group of three men. Their presence immediately drew attention—young, sharp-dressed, and exuding an aura of entitlement that only the elite carried. These weren't heirs from the same circle as Ethan; these were men who commanded respect simply by being in the room.
The leader, a tall man with slicked-back dark hair and a tailored suit that screamed custom-made, glanced around the showroom with a sneer, as if everything around him was beneath his standards. Behind him, his two friends followed, each wearing equally expensive attire and an air of arrogance that was palpable.
The leader, whose name tag on his Rolex glinted with the initials "G.R.", spotted William standing by the jet-black Veyron and raised an eyebrow. With a smirk, he sauntered over, his friends trailing close behind.
"You planning on buying that?" G.R. asked, his voice dripping with condescension. He didn't even bother looking directly at William; his eyes were focused on the car, as if it were the only thing worth his attention.
William remained calm, but Marcus shifted slightly beside him, already sensing the tension. "Yes," William said simply, his voice even.
G.R. let out a low chuckle, finally turning his gaze to William. His eyes scanned William up and down, clearly unimpressed. "Really? In those clothes? You don't look like the kind of guy who can afford something like this."
One of G.R.'s friends, a shorter man with slick hair and a flashy gold chain, smirked. "Probably just here to take pictures. Instagram's full of wannabes like that."
The third man, muscular and towering, crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he watched William closely, waiting for a reaction.
Marcus, ever composed but with a dangerous edge in his voice, spoke up. "You've got a big mouth for someone who doesn't know who he's talking to."
G.R. looked Marcus up and down, unfazed. He let out a dismissive laugh. "Who the hell are you, the bodyguard? I don't care who you work for. You don't know who you're talking to."
G.R. took a step forward, now standing inches from Marcus. "This is my world. I don't care if you're some big shot in a suit. Money talks here, and it looks like you're both out of your depth."
Marcus's jaw tightened, but William placed a hand on his arm, silently signaling for him to hold back. This wasn't the time for Marcus to handle things, not yet.
"I've already bought the car," William said, his voice firm and calm. "You might want to watch your mouth."
The taller man in G.R.'s crew let out a laugh, cracking his knuckles. "You? Bought this car? Come on, man. Stop wasting our time."
G.R. shook his head, clearly enjoying himself now. "You must be new around here. See, this isn't the kind of place where you just waltz in and claim to buy something like this. You've got to have the connections, the name, and the money."
William's expression remained impassive, but his gaze sharpened as he looked directly at G.R. "You don't know who I am, do you?"
G.R. smirked, clearly not taking William seriously. "Doesn't matter who you are. You could be the prince of some backwater country for all I care. If you don't have the backing to roll with us, you're nobody."
William's patience was wearing thin. He took a step forward, his calm demeanor shifting slightly as his voice dropped. "You don't know who I am, but you will soon."
The taller man stepped in, ready to escalate the situation. "Yeah? And what's that supposed to mean?"
Marcus, sensing the growing hostility, stepped in front of William. "It means you're stepping into dangerous territory."
But G.R. wasn't backing down. His confidence hadn't wavered. "Listen, whatever power play you're trying to pull, it won't work here. We own this city. My father owns half the real estate in the King's District, and the other half listens to us. You're just a nobody in a nice suit."
William raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Before G.R. could respond, Marcus's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his eyes flicking over to William. "It's done."
William gave a small nod. He turned his attention back to G.R., the calm returning to his voice. "I don't care who your father is, or who you think you are. The fact is, I don't need your permission to be here. And now that I've bought this dealership—" William gestured to the entire showroom with a wave of his hand "—you're standing in my territory."
G.R. blinked, his smug expression faltering for the first time. "Wait... what did you just say?"
William held his gaze, unflinching. "I own this dealership now. I just bought it."
The shorter man scoffed, stepping forward. "You're bluffing. No way a guy like you—"
But Marcus cut him off, his tone deadly. "He's not bluffing. You're talking to William Rothschild. And if you know what's good for you, you'll leave before you embarrass yourselves any further."
The weight of the name hit the room like a bomb. G.R. froze, his face going pale as he processed what had just been said. The others exchanged nervous glances, realizing too late who they were dealing with.
"R-Rothschild?" G.R. stammered, his bravado crumbling. "As in... the Rothschild family?"
William remained silent, letting the name speak for itself. The message was clear: they had picked the wrong fight.
G.R. swallowed hard, his confidence shattered. He took a step back, his eyes wide with fear. "We didn't know... I didn't..."
"You didn't know," William said quietly. "But now you do."
For a moment, G.R. and his friends stood there, paralyzed by fear. Then, without another word, they turned and hurried out of the dealership, their arrogance replaced by sheer panic.
As the door closed behind them, Marcus turned to William with a satisfied nod. "Looks like the city's starting to get the message."
William glanced at the jet-black Veyron, the car now a symbol of his growing power. "Good," he said calmly. "Let them talk. I'll show them who really owns this city."