The Billionaire's Ultimate Challenge

Chapter 2:

He was Ricard William, arrogant, cold, lonely, and even bloody. At the top of the mountain, dense trees hid a large, dark gray four-story house. The atmosphere was unusual, as the life of the island’s owner was nearing its end.

In a bedroom on the second floor, an elderly man lay dying in bed, surrounded by several doctors and nurses in white coats. Someone gently pushed open the door, slowly revealing a small, tender face. Once the door was fully open, the little lady carefully stepped inside.

A few minutes earlier, the butler had informed her that her grandfather was on his deathbed and urged her to come quickly. Despite being only eight years old, she had matured early and knew her grandfather would soon pass away, leaving this world forever.

She walked carefully, taking slow steps to avoid disturbing her grandfather. Mrs. Taylor, an elderly housekeeper, stood among the doctors and nurses. Unable to wait for the little girl to reach them, she stepped out and led the little girl to the bedside.

“Abigail.” A weak, icy hand reached out, and a strained voice called out.

The little girl was indeed the newborn baby from the rainy night eight years ago, Abigail Anderson. In a blink of an eye, eight years had passed, and the little girl had grown up, her petite figure as beautiful as a fairy. Her long hair reached her waist, and the hair framing her small forehead stressed her delicate, enchanting face.

Hearing her grandfather’s painful call, she stepped forward, taking his outstretched hand.

“Grandfather, Grandfather!”

The cold, lifeless face of the old man seemed to regain some vitality upon hearing the child’s voice. He was acutely aware of his physical condition. A year ago, after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, he had undergone prolonged treatment in the hospital with no success. In the end, the doctors gave him a grim prognosis: six more months to live.

During this half year, he had stayed on the island. Being a person of significant influence, he was accompanied by several doctors and nurses to monitor his condition. Knowing that his time was limited, he died at home. Unexpectedly, half a year had passed quickly, and the doctors’ predictions had come true. Now, he was struggling painfully on the brink of life and death.

Before him was Abigail, his grandson’s precious treasure. When she first arrived, she had to be held, unable to speak, only capable of crying, laughing, and drooling. He didn’t know when it began, but even someone as cold as him had loved and pamper her. The reason was simple: a lovely, obedient, and understanding a little girl like her was hard not to love. She was the future wife his grandson had chosen, a baby forced to leave her parents and stay on the island. These reasons were enough for a ruthless person like him to feel compassion and genuine affection sincerely.

One, a dying elderly man. The other, a sobbing eight-year-old girl. The two hugged each other tightly, their eyes communicating silently.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Ricard appeared at the door like a gust of wind, gesturing for the bodyguards to stay outside. His cold, clear eyes swept forward, causing the doctors and nurses to retreat to a corner of the room. Ricard walked forward, his gaze briefly passing over Abigail before hurrying away. She had just returned a few seconds ago, so now he could only see her small, delicate back, and long black hair.

His grandfather lay on the bed with only a faint breath left, looking frail and aged, a stark contrast to the once-powerful king of the underworld. “Ricard…” He saw his grandson but couldn’t move; even speaking required immense effort. When Ricard stepped to the bedside, the old man sighed in relief.

Abigail weakly told Ricard, “Grandfather is waiting for you.” She had often wanted to ask why, but in the end, she kept the question to herself.

“Grandfather.” Ricard looked down at the only relative he had left. “You can leave in peace. I will become the new boss and continue the work you left unfinished.”

His words were indeed shocking to the doctors and nurses. The legendary mafia boss was no ordinary person; before a dying relative, no one else would say such words.

Abigail, having been raised by him, showed little reaction to his words. She knew that even though he was only eighteen, his mind was as mature as a twenty-eight-year-old’s, and he was far from ordinary.

The old man’s stiff lips curved into a strange smile, pleased with his grandson’s response. He still held Abigail’s hand tightly, then slowly moved it towards Ricard.

“Hands…” He uttered one word, and Ricard understood, placing his hand over his grandfather’s.

Only then did the icy hand relax. The old man placed Abigail’s and Ricard’s hands together, holding them within his own. He didn’t speak, but his eyes watched them intently.

Abigail didn’t understand her grandfather’s gesture, her thoughts racing. Did he instruct Ricard to care for her, or was there another intention?

But Ricard understood his grandfather’s intention. Instead of explaining, he leaned close to his ear and whispered with a faint smile, “Grandfather, rest in peace. After you’re gone, Abigail will be my only family.”

The old man’s smile disappeared, replaced by a serious expression. He nodded a few times before his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He felt his vision blur, darkness enveloping him. After what felt like an eternity, a light appeared in the darkness, and his body slowly floated up, following the light into a black tunnel.

“Grandfather! Grandfather!” Abigail cried out as she saw his eyes close, his hand holding hers growing cold and stiff. She knew he had passed away and cried out in distress.

The housekeeper and the doctors began their preparations, but Ricard remained standing there.

“Abigail, Grandfather is dead. Let’s go.” His clear but cold voice echoed, yet Abigail, heartbroken, remained kneeling by the bedside, clutching her grandfather’s hand, unwilling to stand.