Godly Investor: A Hundred Trillion Dollars For Investment And Donations-Chapter 259 -

Ethan’s patience had reached its limit. The smug smile plastered across Mr. Brown’s face and the York family’s blind faith in him were grating at Ethan’s last nerve. With a swift motion, he pulled out his phone and typed a message to Naomi.

[I want Mr. Brown arrested immediately. Charge him for spreading lies and misrepresentation.]

He hit send, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

His piercing gaze landed directly on Mr. Brown, whose confidence seemed to falter for the first time. The scene quieted as everyone felt the shift in Ethan’s demeanor.

Ethan’s voice was calm but carried a sharp edge, each word cutting through the silence.

"Mr. Brown," he began, his tone deceptively casual, "I have one question for you."

Hearing what Ethan just said.

Mr. Brown straightened his posture, attempting to maintain his composure. "Yes?" he asked, though there was a faint tremor in his voice.

"Do you truly know the godly investor?"

Ethan asked, leaning slightly forward, his eyes locking onto Mr. Brown’s like a predator stalking its prey.

The question hit like a thunderclap. The York family exchanged confused glances, unsure of where this was heading, while Mr. Brown’s face turned pale. He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, the weight of the question pinning him in place.

"Well?" Ethan pressed, his voice carrying a dangerous calm. "You’ve boasted enough about your influence. Surely, someone as connected as you must have met the godly investor face to face, right?"

The scene was thick with even more tension. Mr. Brown stammered, his bravado crumbling under Ethan’s unwavering stare. "I… I’ve communicated with his representatives," he finally managed to say, his words shaky and unconvincing. "But… but it’s all through… through intermediaries…"

At that moment Ethan tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Through intermediaries,"

he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. He straightened and crossed his arms, looking down at Mr. Brown like a judge about to deliver a verdict. "So, you’ve never actually met him. Yet you claimed to have influenced his decisions, persuaded him to approve deals, and now, you think you can manipulate him into giving the York family another chance?"

However Mr. Brown’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. The York family, who had been praising him moments ago, now looked at him with suspicion and unease. Serenity’s uncle frowned deeply, his earlier confidence visibly shaken.

Ethan took a step closer to Mr. Brown, his voice dropping to a near whisper, though the menace in it was unmistakable. "You’ve been using his name to inflate your importance, haven’t you? Feeding on people’s ignorance, making them believe you’re more than you are. And now, you’ve dragged this family into your lies."

The silence in the Scene was deafening. Ethan’s gaze never left Mr. Brown, who was visibly sweating now, his hands trembling slightly as he fidgeted with his tie.

"I asked you a simple question," Ethan said again, his voice now firm and commanding. "Do you truly know the godly investor?"

At that moment Mr. Brown straightened his posture, his confidence returning in full force. "Of course, I know the godly investor," he declared, his voice laced with self-assurance.

" Not just with intermediaries like I said earlier, since you really want to know, I’ve been invited here by him on numerous occasions to discuss business over meals. Of course, I can’t reveal his name. If I did, I’d risk shutting down this entire restaurant. The man’s reputation is that powerful."

His statement hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, the York family seemed to cling to his words, nodding in agreement. At that moment Serenity’s uncle, who had been enjoying the unfolding drama, jumped at the opportunity to chime in.

"Ethan," Serenity’s uncle said, turning to him with a smirk, "why are you harping on this again? Are you seriously implying that Mr. Brown is lying about something so important? Do you even understand who you’re questioning here?"

The scene grew silent, all eyes shifting toward Ethan. However he remained calm, his hands resting loosely at his sides. The flicker of a smile crossed his face as he responded evenly, "Of course not."

Then Serenity’s uncle clapped his hands together, glancing around the restaurant with a wide smile. "This calls for a lavish celebration," he declared, his voice booming with false enthusiasm. "For everything Mr. Brown has done—and will do—for us, he deserves nothing but the best. Let’s treat him to a meal fit for royalty in another restaurant!"

At that moment The York family members murmured their agreement, their faces lighting up with excitement. Serenity, standing quietly in the corner, kept her eyes downcast, her discomfort palpable. Ethan, leaning back in his chair, watched the scene unfold, his face impassive but his eyes sharp.

Mr. Brown, who had been basking in the attention, raised a hand to quiet them.

"Actually," he began, his tone slick with faux modesty, "there’s no need for the whole family to trouble themselves. How about this? Just Serenity and I will go."

The scene fell silent, and all eyes turned to him. He leaned forward slightly, his smile predatory as he added, "Remember, Serenity is studying business at the university, isn’t she? I’d love to see how sharp she is, how well she understands the world she’s about to step into. It’ll be good practice for her. Who knows? When I meet the godly investor later, I might even put in a good word for her. Perhaps, with the right recommendation, Serenity could secure a position under my guidance."

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At that moment the York family beamed with pride, their voices blending into a cacophony of praises for Mr. Brown. Serenity’s uncle raised a toast, even though no drinks had been served yet, declaring,

"To Mr. Brown, the savior of our family and the future guide for Serenity!"

Mr. Brown wore a smug grin, basking in the adoration, as though the entire world was bending to his will. Serenity still standing quietly, her hands clasped tightly in her side, her unease hidden behind a forced smile.

Just then, the faint hum of an engine reached their ears, growing louder as a black van pulled up in front of the restaurant. The sight drew a few curious glances from the family, but their chatter continued uninterrupted. Ethan, however, reached for his phone as it buzzed in his pocket.

A message from Naomi lit up the screen: [Already in progress. I started working on it before your last text.]

At that moment Ethan smirked slightly, sliding his phone back into his pocket just as the van’s doors slid open.

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A group of men stepped out, their movements calculated and precise. They were dressed in black, their jackets adorned with bold "POLICE"