Chương 245: Chapter 236

After that utterance, the entire room fell silent, the outside world's noise repelled by the extremely expensive sound insulation, and the only sounds Sam could hear were his breath and the sound of his own heartbeat. While he tried to portray himself with bravado and as somebody who didn't really care, he was pretty much worried about talking with the man in front of him.

Even with his accumulated wealth and 'connections' – as paltry as they were – this old man could break him into tiny pieces over his knee with but a thought. He would have to be extremely careful with his words today. For now, the old man was entertained and more than likely humoring him, but one never knew with 'old monsters' like these what would set them off. Or not.

The old man could smile throughout the meeting, and send Sam off with a pat on his back and he would never make it home, his friends forever wondering what happened to him. Then the old man raised his cup of tea and slurped. Loudly. Sam was rather thankful Lara gave him the heads up. He simply stared directly into the old man's challenging eyes, raised his own cup, slurping even louder.

The old man opposite of him lost his smile and clicked his tongue while his assistants were carefully observing the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"That shameful granddaughter, giving away my secrets…"

"I mean, you did send one of your relatives to harass me," Sam answered with a small smile. The old man just waved it away.

"Please, he was just an actor!" Now that stopped Sam's thoughts.

"What?"

"Did you really think we would keep someone like…." Lara's grandfather answered with a twinkle in his eyes as he tried to find a proper metaphor.

"Like a genetic research defect kept around as an object lesson to all your enemies and family members?" Sam offered his interpretation.

"Exactly," the old man snapped his fingers and pointed at Sam.

"Dominic and his team are great actors. I usually use them to test outsiders," he explained.

"Most people who work here know and play along. Fun for everyone!" Sam didn't really have anything to say to that. The old man, however, was not perturbed.

"I think they are trying to see what the stupidest thing little Dominic could say that people would believe is. Though I believe being called a genetic research defect is a new one…" The man looked away into the distance, probably dwelling on memories before shaking himself and refocusing on Sam.

"Anyway, they are preparing a play right now where little Dominic is playing the villain. If you want a ticket, I can arrange something…"

"I think giving those tickets to Lara and Dan would be much more worthwhile…" Sam replied, a little flummoxed. Now that he was 'enlightened' about Dominic, he was much more hopeful. Not enough to drop his guard, but he wasn't expecting actual death squads. The old man let out a laugh.

"Haha! Indeed, those two are adorable together. It warms my heart to see that my granddaughter managed to find somebody like that rascal!"

"Rascal?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow. The old man, who still hadn't introduced himself, just huffed.

"Well, he dared to lay his hands on my precious granddaughter. Of course, he is a rascal!" he explained somewhat angrily, but Sam could hear the genuine warmth in his voice. Apparently, he approved of Dan.

'Good for him!' he mused before the old man's rapid change of mood grabbed his attention. The jovial old man was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by a cold, hard glare that somehow even decreased the room's temperature. Even his posture changed from a caring grandfather to one that belonged to a man who founded a company spanning the world and led it through countless tribulations. There were no jokes, no more humorous quips, just the hard stare of a man, ready to do what was needed.

"Not like you, boy." It took all his willpower not to swallow anxiously. Instead, he slightly tilted his head sideways, trying to act confused.

"How so?" The old man snorted. Sam felt goosebumps on his arms under his well-tailored suit.

"Don't play with me, boy. I might not be the leading expert in that ridiculous game, but I do listen to my granddaughter. And she really likes to complain about you. Didn't take me long to put together that you knew exactly who my granddaughter was." He fixed his stare on Sam, who felt almost like he was being crushed under a mountain.

"However, one thing still eludes me." Sam stayed silent, letting the old man talk. He told himself because this way he could learn more, but he knew, in truth, he stayed silent because he was terrified. The assistants behind the man staring at him with an unflinching gaze didn't look so innocent anymore.

His hyper-focused mind couldn't help but pick up the slight bulge under their arms, how one of their hands was always near that bulge, or how they slowly fanned out to make sure if they had to shoot, he wouldn't be able to dodge in any direction. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"No matter how I turned the information I gained about you, boy, I couldn't figure out what you are planning," the old man continued.

"More money? Power? Position?" This time, Sam managed to force his tongue and jaw to work.

"I might never have as much money as you, but I have enough. With my investments, I would be able to live a comfortable life. As for power? What? It's a game. What power would I gain with that?" Once again, the old man snorted.

"Don't think I'm a fool, boy. I have played things long before you were a twinkle in your parent's eye. I can see the sign, and even if I didn't, I have thousands of people working for me who I pay to watch out for these kinds of changes."

"An interesting thought…" Sam began, but he was interrupted by the old man.

"I looked into you, you know. You tried to hide your actions, but while what you did would fool amateurs, to me it was plain as day."

"That is?" Sam asked with a frown, not liking where this conversation was going.

"You knew what the game was going to be," came the confident statement from his 'opponent'.

"Every action after a certain day was in an effort to be where you are today. The investments, the communications, the actions. You knew about the game; you knew what it was going to become, and you planned to exploit it."

"I don't really hear a question there," he replied trying to keep his face from cracking. The old man snorted again.

"Cute. Now, tell me: did you get a tip-off?" he asked before shaking his head.

"No. You were a nobody, not connected to anybody at the company. And with the way they are treating you, I doubt they wouldn't have figured it out after your first ludicrous action." He took a small breath before continuing to theorize loudly.

"Maybe you got a glance at something? Could it be that fate blew a lost paper in your face and you read it?" Sam swallowed, highly impressed that the man saw through him so easily, and was also trying not to shit his pants. He was pretty sure that the old man was only not bringing up time travel, as it was scientifically impossible.

"Or maybe you had some supernatural premonition? A dream? A vision?" It seemed Sam spoke too soon. He really hoped his poker face worked.

"Well, boy, aren't going to defend yourself? According to my granddaughter, you have a glib tongue." The old man smirked. It was not a pretty sight.

"What did she say?" he pondered for a moment. Sam doubted it was for real.

"Ah, yes. He can sell sand to people in the desert…" Sam couldn't help but chuckle, remembering an old story he had read in his previous life.

"You can do that if you find a type of sand they would like…" he spoke up. The old man continued to stare before huffing a little.

"At least you have a spine…"

"Were you expecting me to fold like a wet tissue paper?"

"I hoped so. Would have made my life easier that way," he told Sam, oddly sounding a little happy.

"This way, at least I can still respect you and don't have to remove you from my granddaughter's life."

"Joy."

"You decided to dive into this life. Can't really complain if it comes to bite you in the posterior, boy. Now. I want my answer. And if you tell me an insane clown told you about the future with balloon art, I am going to throw you out with my own hands." The entire sentence was delivered in a no-nonsense tone that told Sam that the old man intended to keep his word.

"Would it really be so hard to believe that I followed the news and saw the potential in it?"

"What about the investments in failing companies that rose to prominence after the game became mainstream?" Sam shrugged again, trying to give off a nonchalant attitude.

"Saw a chance. Not the first time a company got a second or even a third wind. And if you really checked, I also invested…"

"In other companies that completely failed. I know, boy. I also know that you used a different account for those and with far less effort and time spent on those investments. I recognize chaff when I see it." He shrugged for the third time and held his hands out, palm facing toward the other man.

"Well, then, it seems, you know everything, sir. Can't tell you more. I saw an opportunity and wanted to hide my actions from other investors. As for everything else: I may not know much about a lot of things in the world, but I know games. And if one pays attention, they can spot certain patterns… which could be exploited. Not that I need to explain that to you…" As Sam finished silence fell on the room once again.

He was sitting in his chair, his drink long forgotten, his back drenched in cold sweat and the old man scrutinizing him from the other side of the table. Finally, after several extremely uncomfortable minutes, the old man let out a sigh.

"It seems I have lost my edge… In the past most people would have spilled everything they knew just to get into my good graces…" he grumbled.

"But I don't want to…"

"I know that. Don't need to spell it out, boy," the old man spat angrily. Then he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in for a second before letting it out. Opening his eyes, Sam saw the anger had fled the eyes, and they were replaced by an emotion he couldn't really identify.

"Answer me this then: Are you using my granddaughter?"

"She thought going to that charity gala was the most hilarious thing ever," Sam stated with a flat tone.

"My granddaughter is still… immature in certain areas," came the reply as the old man narrowed his eyes.

"Now answer my question."

"I'm using her just as much as she is using me," Sam replied.

"We're friends, but we both have things that the other person needs or wants." The old man nodded.

"Good. If you had told me that you are her friend and you would never hurt her, I would have laughed into your face." What could Sam say to that? Nothing, so he stayed silent, waiting for the old man to continue.

"I won't protect you. If you do anything that pisses off those upstarts at the gala, I will stand back and laugh," the man stated while reaching for his cup that was still steaming.

"Go and play your games, but know that I'm watching."

"What about Lara?" he asked.

"She can protect herself, and if she fails, dear old grandpa is going to be there to help her up," he answered with a grin on his face, the cold atmosphere vanishing.

"Anything else?" Sam swallowed several angry retorts and questions, finally landing on one he deemed safe.

"If you knew all that, why did you call me here?"

"I wanted to get the measure of the man who was playing games like these…" came the ominous answer.

"Now go, I have another meeting in a few minutes." Sam looked at the old man who looked back at him, daring him to do anything that would cause him to revoke his 'approval' but after a few seconds, Sam decided it was not a fight worth fighting. He nodded and stood up while finishing his drink – it was an excellent lemonade.

"Well, then, thank you for the meeting," he told the old man, nodded at the assistants who were still eyeing him, and turned toward the door. However, as he reached for the doorknob, he couldn't help but 'strike' back at the man for scaring him.

"Good luck with the next crash!" He slipped out the door as the old man began coughing as the tea went down the wrong pipe.

'Well, that could have gone better, I suppose…' he mused to himself as he forced his body to walk toward the elevator without displaying the stress-induced jitter. For now, he would need to maintain his image. There would be time to collapse and scream soundlessly when he got home.