Chapter 72
The private jet descended smoothly onto the tarmac, the door unlatched, and the metal staircase lowered. From within the jet, Kai Blackwood stepped out.
He wore a brown trench coat, its hem swaying slightly with the wind, and his long hair was slightly tousled. Behind him was Secretary Wen, who followed him quietly.
Waiting just outside was a row of men, bulky and some with faces crisscrossed with scars, dressed in black suits. Taking sight of Kai, they bowed in unison. "Welcome back, Young Master."
Kai barely acknowledged them, his eyes sweeping across the parked convoy ahead. At the center stood a sleek, black Rolls-Royce Phantom, and just behind it was an entourage of black sedans lined up, forming a perfect procession.
A chauffeur stepped forward, opening the car door. Without a word, Kai slid into the backseat onto the plush leather seat. The other men wordlessly entered their designated vehicles and smoothly pulled away from the runway.
As the car moved down the road, Kai pulled a pack of cigarettes from his trench coat, took a stick out, and lit it. He took a deep drag of the cigarette before asking, "How’s the old man?" His voice carried a hint of amusement.
The driver hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, well aware that Kai was the only one who had the audacity to refer to Song Yue that way. "The Master is in good health, Young Master."
Kai hummed in response before taking another drag.
He looked out the window as the city lights blurred past, and his mind wandered. If Amelia were here, she’d be scrunching up her nose right about now, he mused, a faint smile playing on his lips. She always made that adorable, disapproving expression whenever he smoked. Even though she didn’t say anything, it was obvious that she did not like it. Of course, as much as he loved to make her comfortable, he often refrained from smoking when she was around, however, a few times, he indulged himself just to see a glimpse of that adorable expression.
It wasn’t long before the convoy slowed, approaching an opulent estate of over 600 acres, surrounded by towering gates and pristine gardens. The mansion had taken inspiration from Machiavelli’s villa and was an embodiment of old money and power.
As the car rolled to a stop, Kai stepped out. At the entrance of the mansion, an elderly butler stood waiting. The man bowed slightly. "Welcome home, Young Master."