HBWnovel Chapter 287: Frustrated Loth
Chapter 287: Frustrated Loth
Damian sat beside the floor to ceiling glass wall of his bedroom with one leg crossed over the other while countless city lights glittered beneath the night sky beyond the mansion grounds. The Pacific stretched endlessly in the distance, dark and calm beneath the moonlight, yet his attention never once drifted toward the view.
Documents floated around him in neat stacks, pages turning on their own whenever his gaze lingered on them for more than a second. Property acquisitions, church expansion reports, business revenues, political influence assessments, financial projections, and intelligence summaries all passed before his eyes one after another.
By every mortal standard, he had already won. His net worth alone had surpassed six hundred million dollars and continued growing at a frightening pace, but that number meant very little to him now. Money had long ceased being the measure of power in his life. Influence was what truly mattered.
The more Damian reviewed the reports, the clearer that reality became. The Black Apostle Cartel that effectively controlled Chicago’s criminal underworld answered directly to him through Twenty.
Politicians owed favors to his devotees. Business owners competed for church partnerships. Entire communities relied on services funded through his ministries. Even more absurd was the number of loyal believers spreading his influence across continents without him lifting a finger.
Millions now knew his name. Millions more followed his teachings without ever realizing who truly sat at the center of it all. Looking back at the lonely lawyer who once struggled to pay bills and contemplated ending his own life, Damian almost found the comparison amusing. The gap was so vast it felt like comparing two completely different people.
Yet among all the reports spread before him, one particular folder held his attention longer than the rest. It belonged to the Love Ministry Security Outfit. What originally started as a small auxiliary branch had somehow evolved into one of the most profitable arms of his growing empire.
Damian skimmed through the figures with raised brows. Over five thousand active security personnel were currently operating under the organization. To ordinary people they were highly trained professionals. To Damian, they were simply demons inhabiting human bodies.
Jota had apparently been far more efficient than expected during the last five months. Thousands of demons had quietly answered his summons and gathered in Chicago, integrating themselves into society while serving their prince.
Because they occupied human hosts, they possessed physical capabilities beyond normal humans. Their reaction speeds were superior. Their endurance was superior. Their senses were superior. They rarely became tired and could perform tasks that would exhaust ordinary security personnel. More importantly, they required almost nothing in return.
Unlike mortal employees who demanded salaries, insurance, bonuses, and endless benefits, these demons worked out of loyalty alone. They accepted basic necessities merely to maintain the health of their host bodies. Food expenses remained negligible. Medical costs were nearly nonexistent. Staff turnover effectively did not exist. The result was a security company operating with margins that bordered on absurdity.
Combined with the influence of the church, the organization had become the preferred choice for businesses, government departments, wealthy families, and even religious institutions. Registered church members received discounts, creating even more demand. Month after month the profits climbed higher.
Damian finally shut the report and exhaled through his nose. "That explains the demonic presence scattered everywhere. Since nobody reacted to them, I assumed they were allies."
Across from him, Loth sat quietly on the edge of a nearby chair while organizing another stack of folders. She wore a thin nightgown that left very little to the imagination, though Damian seemed completely oblivious to the effort.
The room remained dimly lit, illuminated only by moonlight filtering through the glass and the occasional glow of city lights below. She had spent half the evening wondering whether her lord would spare even a glance in her direction. Instead, he had spent hours reviewing financial statements.
Sometimes she genuinely questioned whether Damian was actually the Prince of Lust.
"That’s not all," she said as she placed another folder onto the table before him. "Your share from Twenty’s operations currently averages around five million dollars monthly. That’s after distributions and operational costs."
The folder floated from her hand before she could even release it completely. It opened itself before Damian.
His eyes skimmed through the pages.
Drug routes.
Protection networks.
Entertainment venues.
Real estate holdings.
Money laundering operations.
Extortion revenues.
The cartel’s empire had expanded dramatically under Twenty’s leadership.
Damian merely nodded and Loth found herself staring again.
No excitement.
No greed.
No satisfaction.
Nothing.
For someone who had achieved demigodhood less than a day ago, his priorities felt completely insane.
In the underworld, every prince eventually entered a period of absolute excess after reaching the demigod realm. Some conquered kingdoms. Others established divine empires. Many openly declared themselves gods and forced entire civilizations into worship. Most became intoxicated by power.
Damian reached demigodhood and immediately went back to reviewing spreadsheets.
Even now he possessed the ability to locate nearly every assassin on Earth through Divine Perception. He could personally hunt them down within hours.
Instead he was examining monthly revenues.
Loth genuinely couldn’t understand him.
"Okay." Damian finally closed the final folder and leaned back. "I’m satisfied with the finances."
The black cigar box resting nearby opened automatically. A cigar floated into his mouth and purple flames ignited at its tip.
He inhaled deeply before exhaling a mixture of smoke and violet mist toward the ceiling.
For several moments he remained silent.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"If my memories are correct, one of my clones is currently presiding over a rather interesting case."
Loth instantly straightened.
"It is."
Another folder floated toward him. This one was considerably thicker.
The moment Damian opened it, a slow grin spread across his face. By the second page that grin had become unsettling and by the third it had become openly predatory.
"Ooh?" His eyes gleamed with dangerous amusement. "What do we have here?"
Several more pages turned and his grin widened further.
"What a pleasant surprise."
Loth remained silent. She already knew what he was reading.
Then Damian’s eyes landed on a familiar name and the temperature inside the room seemed to drop.
"What do we have here..." he whispered.
The grin stretched wider.
"Victor fucking Hale."
The folder contained every detail.
Three months after Damian’s resignation from Blacksheep Firm and his subsequent appointment as Judge Hill, Chicago had been shaken by one of the largest legal scandals in recent memory.
Victor Hale.
Former managing director and former rising star of Blacksheep.
Former golden child of one of Illinois’ most influential legal dynasties.
According to witness statements, Victor had attended a private celebration hosted by investors and political donors. Alcohol flowed freely throughout the evening. Multiple attendees later confirmed he was visibly intoxicated before leaving.
At approximately 2:14 AM, despite repeated offers for transportation, Victor chose to drive himself home.
Seven minutes later he ran a red light traveling nearly ninety miles per hour.
The collision destroyed a family.
Ethan Morales, a firefighter, died instantly. Sophia Morales, an elementary school teacher, remained hospitalized in a medically induced coma.
Their daughter Emily survived but she lost her leg.
Damian slowly closed the folder, then reopened it and reread the section detailing Victor’s attempts to suppress media coverage through political connections.
The smile vanished entirely.
"What a stupid bastard."
Even Loth could hear genuine disappointment in his voice. Victor had not merely destroyed lives. He had done so arrogantly and then attempted to bury it but it was discovered and now his life was about to end.
Meanwhile the Hale family had mobilized nearly every connection they possessed. Political pressure was mounting daily. Donors were making calls. Lobbyists were applying pressure. Influential figures from Washington had reportedly taken interest.
The pressure to save Victor Hale was immense.
Damian took another long drag from his cigar before releasing the smoke slowly. His eyes gleamed with something far colder than anger.
For the first time since opening the file, he genuinely looked interested.
"You know," he said calmly while staring at Victor’s photograph, "this might actually be fun."
Loth felt a chill run down her spine because she recognized that expression. Whenever Damian smiled like that, somebody’s life was about to become significantly worse.