NOVEL NEXT Chapter 77: Khans
The Khan family controlled the majority of cultivation material supply chains through a web of seemingly independent distributors. When small farmers couldn't pay their mounting debts, the family had a particular method of "debt forgiveness" that served both as punishment and as a warning.
Seven years ago, an elderly farmer named Robert Singh owed the Khans nearly $40,000 after a series of failed harvests. Unable to repay, he begged for more time, explaining that he had two daughters—one entering medical school, the younger still in high school. He couldn't bear to lose the land that had been in his family for generations.
Selmon Khan arrived at Singh's farm with a contract. By chance, he saw the girls. That was when everything changed. Selmon wasn't the patriarch then, just another son of the dynasty, but his word carried weight. He offered Singh two choices: sign over the deed to his 500-acre property, or let one of his daughters "accompany" him for a year.
Singh chose his daughters over his legacy. Of course he did. They were all he had since his wife's death. He signed the papers, his hands shaking, tears burning down his weathered face, believing he had spared them from something far worse.
But the Khans weren't finished. What followed broke the old man completely.
One afternoon, his younger daughter didn't return from school. Singh searched everywhere. Her classrooms, her friends' homes, even the places she had once dreamed aloud of visiting. She had always wanted to be a traveler. She had pinky-promised to take him around the world.
Three days later, he found her. Limping back toward the farmhouse, his feet raw and his face drained of all color, he was accompanied by his elder daughter, who had rushed home from college to help him search.
As the farm gate came into view, they saw her—or rather, what was left of her. She lay lifeless on the ground. Skin bruised, bones broken. Her torn clothes and the anguish frozen on her face told a story of cruelty no father should ever confront.
His elder daughter clutched his arm and screamed, the sound tearing into the dusk before she collapsed beside her sister.
Robert stood frozen. His eyes never left his youngest child's face. Only his elder daughter's wails filled the silence.
The next morning, Robert Singh was found dead in his own home, his blood pooling across the floor. His eldest daughter was gone. On the wall where his children once scribbled dreams and drawings, a single message, written in blood, remained:
"I am sorry, Amelia."
The truth of who had orchestrated it was confirmed days later. Not by investigation, but by Selmon Khan himself. In an unsolicited interview, he expressed his condolences with the poise of a man who knew no consequences.
"Such tragedies," he said smoothly, "might have be avoided if obligations were honored on time."
The words, mocking, carried no grief, Only a warning and a smile.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Vincent snapped out of his thoughts as the car stopped outside the company building. The dark memories of the Khan family's cruelty left a bitter taste in his mouth. He got out of the car, wanting to push away thoughts that only made his mood worse.
But what he saw made him stop and frown. A crowd had formed near the building's entrance—strange for a workplace that valued order and discipline. He'd made it clear that employees should maintain proper behavior, so this chaos meant only one thing.
"Trouble," he muttered.
The moment he stepped out, employees started noticing him. Seeing his dark expression, they scattered like scared birds. Some pressed against walls, staring at the ground but stealing quick looks at their intimidating boss and the sight ahead. Others walked faster and faster until they were almost running toward the building, holding their bags tight and hunching their shoulders like they were walking through a storm.
One particularly nervous intern dropped his coffee entirely, the cup clattering across the concrete as he stumbled in his haste to clear Vincent's path. The man didn't even look back to assess the damage, disappearing through the revolving doors with remarkable speed for someone in a three-piece suit.
As Vincent got a clearer view of what was happening, his expression changed completely—the dark clouds lifting from his face as he understood. Every thought about the Khan family disappeared from his mind.
Four stunning cars gleamed under the morning sun, their surfaces so clean they seemed to drink the light and throw it back. David stood beside them like a proud guardian, carefully polishing an already spotless Rolls Royce with his usual serious focus. Though his face kept its stern look, anyone could see the excitement in his movements.
The collection was amazing: a rose Rolls Royce that screamed luxury, a Bugatti so black it seemed to swallow light, a powerful Cadillac that demanded respect, and a bright red Veneno that looked ready to tear up the road.
Catching sight of Vincent's approach, David immediately straightened and strode forward, his posture military-precise despite the cleaning cloth still clutched in his hand.
"Sir, the vehicles have arrived as scheduled. Payment was processed in full. I've conducted comprehensive inspections on each one. Would you care to examine them personally?"
Vincent looked toward the watching employees, and they quickly scattered. He nodded, walking toward these machines that meant much more than just expensive cars.
His fingers traced the Bugatti's smooth curves, feeling the cool metal that had been crafted with perfect attention to detail. The leather seats beckoned through tinted windows, promising comfort most people would never experience. Yet the greatest satisfaction came not from owning these cars, but from knowing he'd taken them from an enemy.
"I should prepare for milking my next target if the satisfaction is this good," Vincent murmured, settling into the Bugatti's driver's seat and wrapping his hands around the steering wheel.
"Contact Olivia. I feel like taking a brief drive."
He needed updates on corporate matters and wanted to hear about their progress with the BikBok situation. David acknowledged with a nod, dispatching one of the bodyguards to relay the message. The man returned five minutes later—alone and visibly uncomfortable.
"Sir..." The bodyguard shifted his weight, clearly struggling with his words. "Miss Olivia stated she will not see you."
Vincent stared at the fidgeting man, processing words that seemed to defy reality.
"She said what?"
Had his ears played tricks on him? His devoted Olivia was actually refusing him—something that had never happened before, not as his secretary and certainly not as his lover. Instead of anger, curiosity and excitement bubbled up within him.
He quickly got out of the car and headed straight for her office, determined to see this rare rebellion for himself. What could possibly have his usually cute and obedient woman in such a mood?