Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet

William stared at Benjamin in shock. "God, a hundred million dollars is already the highest bounty in the entire underworld. How much do you want me to put up to satisfy you?"

Benjamin's eyes gleamed as he responded, "Five hundred million."

"Five hundred million dollars to put a bounty on one person? You're insane, Mr. Arthur! Do you realize what kind of consequences that would bring?" William looked at Benjamin in disbelief.

"Damn it, if I really set that price, my troubles would only increase. Some organizations would purposely target me just to scam money out of me. No way, I'm not doing it."

Hearing this, Benjamin paused, realizing that might indeed happen. He began to reconsider his earlier promise of giving William the full commission.

If William knew what Benjamin was currently thinking, he would surely throw up his hands in resignation, thinking, "That's typical American behavior—never any credibility."

At that moment, Michael Banning, standing nearby, touched his earpiece, listened, then walked over to Benjamin. "Mr. President, the speech is about to begin."

Benjamin nodded. "Okay, I'll be out in a moment." He then turned to William. "Let's go, William. We'll continue this discussion later. You're the star of the show today."

"Thank you, after you," William replied with a smile, though he inwardly complained. If it weren't for the five hundred million commission, who'd care about a medal with no actual benefits?

The two followed Michael Banning onto the stage.

Benjamin exchanged greetings with the host and Archbishop Desmond of Ethiopia, then placed his hands flat on the podium, repeatedly thanking the audience.

William, following behind, shook hands with those on the platform as well, and then tactfully positioned himself a meter to Benjamin's left. 

Though he tried to stay low-key, the American audience wouldn't let him. Not only did they wave and call his name, but a few young women even screamed, trying to get on stage.

This immediately put the security team on high alert. Police from the perimeter quickly moved in to maintain order.

For a moment, all cameras were focused on William, forcing Benjamin, who was ready to start his speech, to helplessly throw up his hands and wait for the crowd to quiet down.

"Alright, it seems that I, the president, am no match for William's charm," he joked. "Looks like I'll have to bring him onto my team for the next election. With him around, I'm sure I'd score a lot of points with the young ladies."

The crowd burst into laughter, and after five or six noisy minutes, the scene gradually quieted.

Though the wind wasn't particularly strong today, William found his mind wandering from the dull speech. His gaze drifted around the plaza, noting the heavy security presence. Snipers were stationed on all the surrounding rooftops.

Scanning around, he suddenly noticed a church tower a kilometer or two directly ahead, facing the platform.

Seeing the flags behind him, an ominous feeling crept into his heart. Damn it, who was the genius that placed those flags here? They're practically perfect wind indicators for any sniper.

Just as he was about to ask Banning if anyone was watching the church, he heard Benjamin call his name. The audience joined in, chanting his name as well. He turned to see Benjamin receiving a small box with a medal from Banning.

Carefully assessing the surroundings, he felt no immediate threat and stepped forward toward Benjamin.

"William Devonshire, as the first citizen of the United States, I hereby award you the highest honor medal in recognition of your contributions to our nation and to me. Thank you."

With that, Benjamin handed William the medal box. They stood together, smiling at the reporters as cameras clicked away.

Just as he was feeling pleased, the wind noticeably slowed down, and a sudden sense of danger shot through him. Without thinking, William grabbed Benjamin and pulled him down.

A sickening splat sounded, followed by the sharp tang of blood in the air.

Smelling blood, William looked over from where he lay on the ground and saw Desmond, just two meters away, crumple to the ground.

A group of agents moved in to shield Benjamin and William, while others drew their weapons, positioning themselves in front of the two men.

The scene erupted into chaos. Banning, seeing that Benjamin was conscious, breathed a sigh of relief. He gratefully looked at William, then shouted into his radio for the cars to be brought over.

Banning pulled Benjamin up, shouting, "Get to the car, now!"

William wasn't keen on leaving. From the moment Desmond went down, he knew that he and Benjamin hadn't been the targets. But that sniper had disrupted his award ceremony, and William, with his vengeful nature, didn't want to let them go.

However, Benjamin, possibly instinctively grateful to William for saving him, clutched his arm and dragged him along to the presidential vehicle.

Surrounded and protected, they were ushered into the car, and the motorcade immediately sped toward the airport.

Riding in the "Cadillac Beast" for the first time, William looked around curiously. He spotted a bottle of whiskey, picked it up, and unscrewed the cap to take a sniff.

Benjamin, still catching his breath after the scare, glared at William, who was calmly pouring a drink. Seeing the glass extended toward him, Benjamin could no longer hold back his anger.

"Damn it! You've still got the nerve to drink? We mentioned Amir Bakawi less than half an hour ago, and we were immediately shot at! Damn it, if I'd died, you'd never get that five hundred million."

William pulled back the glass, downed it himself, and, while pouring another, began to think quietly about what had just happened.

He was fairly sure it wasn't Bakawi's doing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had a nagging sense of familiarity. Remembering the flags behind the podium, he suddenly recalled what movie this scene was similar to.

With a grin, he took a slow sip from his glass, then picked up the bottle, checked for a label, and, finding none, said, "Do you know how far that sniper was from us just now? A mile."

Benjamin and Banning were puzzled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

William, ignoring the question, took another sip and explained, "To hit a target from such an extreme distance, you have to consider wind speed, temperature, humidity, elevation, and even the Coriolis effect. 

"As far as I know, there are only four sharpshooters in the world capable of hitting a target from a mile away. One Frenchman was confirmed dead long ago; another is sitting in a Russian prison; a third, Bob Lee Swagger, an English-American, was at a Chelsea game in London with me last month, where he helped MI6 on a side job. The last one, if he's still alive, is probably crippled and, very likely, in your custody. So I doubt this was a revenge attack from Bakawi, who's on the run."

He chuckled, adding, "If news later confirms that Swagger was involved, things could get interesting. Mr. Arthur, you may be the unluckiest president in history, but also the luckiest. Time and again, you've escaped these attacks without a scratch. Maybe you really were kissed by God."

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