Chapter 9 The Family Home Was Razed

• Finnley frowned, looking at the monument sign in front of the tower saying "Fitzalan Holdings Headquarters," wondering, What's going on? Why is it now a skyscraper?
• "Mr. Finnley? Is that you, Mr. Finnley?!"
• A raspy voice called out to him, and Finnley turned to see an old, disheveled beggar stumbling toward him. His clothes were filthy, and he moved with difficulty, but his eyes were filled with recognition and hope.
• Finnley was startled. "Who are you? Why are you calling me Mr. Finnley?"
• "Mr. Finnley! It really is you!" The old beggar's face was streaked with tears. "Heavens above, I never thought I'd live to see the master of the Novak family again!"
• Finnley's brow furrowed as he finally recognized the man. It was Thomas Novak, the loyal, dependable old butler from his childhood. Finnley remembered him as a steadfast man, always dressed in a formal suit. Now, he looked completely destitute.
• "Mr. Thomas, get up," Finnley said, helping him to his feet. Thomas sobbed, wiping his tear-streaked, dirt-covered face.
• "How did you end up like this? What happened?" Finnley couldn't believe the man who had once been so upright had fallen to such a state.
• "Mr. Finnley, you don't know the half of it," Thomas replied, his voice filled with despair. "After the tragedy that befell your family, I stayed behind, keeping watch over the house. We never recovered your parents' bodies, so I built a tomb for them behind the house, praying every day so they could rest in peace."
• Finnley felt a lump in his throat, his eyes misting with emotion. After the calamity that had struck his family, their fortunes had plummeted. Yet here was Thomas, still faithfully guarding the family's legacy.
• "I believed that one day you would return to take up the mantle, so I waited and waited. But instead, I received terrible news." Thomas angrily struck the ground with his cane, his voice choked with frustration.
• "Mr. Thomas, take your time. Let's sit down, and you can tell me everything." Finnley led Thomas to a bench near the skyscraper.
• Once they were seated, Thomas began his tale. "They came—those thugs. They said we were 'holdouts' and offered us 3,000 dollars for the land. How could I agree to that? This land is the foundation of the Novak family! Besides, your parents' memorial tablets were still enshrined in the hall. I refused to sell."
• At this point, Thomas' voice broke, and he could no longer hold back his tears. "But they didn't care. They beat me up, broke my leg, and threw me out. Then they demolished the house before my eyes, flattening everything!"
• Finnley gritted his teeth, his eyes dark with rage. The audacity of these people to destroy his family home and desecrate the memorial filled him with seething anger.
• "I never thought I'd see you again, Mr. Finnley. But heaven has been merciful. Now that you've returned, I know our family will rise again!" Thomas' voice was filled with hope as he gazed at Finnley, trusting that the Novaks would reclaim their rightful place.
• "I'm back, Mr. Thomas, and I'll find out who was behind my parents' deaths. As for those who've trampled on us all these years, I won't let them get away with it," Finnley said, his voice low but firm, fury burning in his eyes.
• "Mr. Finnley, where are you staying? Let me arrange a place for you," Thomas offered, despite his desperate circumstances. He couldn't bear the thought of Finnley being inconvenienced.
• "Don't worry about me. I've got a place to stay. But what about you? I saw you limping earlier. Have you been to a hospital?"
• Thomas looked down, his face clouded with defeat. He had gone to the hospital, but by then, it had been too late for proper treatment. He had wanted to fight back but had no means to do so.
• Just as they were speaking, a grating, high-pitched voice interrupted them. "Hey! Where do you think you're sitting, you filthy beggar? Who gave you permission to use our building's benches? Get off!"
• A security guard with a pockmarked face and a sneer approached them, chewing on a toothpick. He had just finished breakfast and was patrolling the area when he noticed Thomas sitting on the bench.
• Finnley suppressed his anger and asked with a cold smile, "So, these benches aren't meant for people to sit on?"
• "They are," the guard sneered, "but not for beggars. Do beggars count as people to you? Get lost; you're ruining the view!" He waved Thomas away like he was shooing a fly. "Go, go! Don't dirty the place. Fitzalan Tower hasn't even officially opened yet, and you're already messing up the vibe!"
• "You—some never you have! This tower was built through extortion, and now you think you can insult us?!" Thomas couldn't swallow the insult. He could take being humiliated himself, but he wouldn't stand for the disrespect directed at Finnley.
• "Oh, I remember you now! You're the old man who cried and begged the construction crew not to bulldoze the site and even dug through the rubble for those 'precious' memorial tablets! What an idiot, still hanging around. Now, if you're still looking for them, try the landfill; I bet they're buried somewhere there now," the guard said, laughing heartily at his own cruel words.
• "What did you just say?" Finnley stepped in front of Thomas, his eyes blazing with fury.
• The guard took a step back, unnerved by Finnley's deadly gaze. "What's your problem? It's just a couple of worthless pieces of wood!"
• Before the guard could finish his sentence, he felt a crushing pain in his stomach as Finnley's kick sent him flying through the air like a ragdoll. He crashed into the security booth, vomiting up his breakfast mixed with blood.
• Thomas was stunned by the power of Finnley's strike. Mr. Finnley's legwork is incredible! That force—unbelievable!
• "Derek! What happened?" A stocky security guard rushed out of the office, panicking at the sight of Derek lying unconscious and bleeding. "Hey! What's going on here? Why did you hit him?"
• Then, he pulled out a stun baton and spoke into the radio. "Calling for backup! We've got a situation in Zone A—someone's causing trouble! We need reinforcements!"
• Within minutes, a group of twenty security guards arrived, led by a tall, muscular man wearing a red armband—clearly the security captain.
• "What's going on?" the captain, Brock, demanded, glaring at the unconscious Derek.
• "Captain, that guy over there attacked Derek." The stocky guard, Marty, pointed at Finnley.
• Brock punched Marty in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. "You called headquarters for this? Interrupting my lunch over one guy?"
• Marty trembled. "But Captain, he knocked Derek out with one kick. He seems really strong." That was why he had called for help.