Archbishop Of Greed Novels & Stories

"How did he wake up? Curses!" He growled, his face twisted with frustration and anger. "Didn't the doctors say there was barely any hope? Those so-called specialists are all useless!" His original plan had been flawless! He would use Nina and the child in her stomach to secure the inheritance on Hugh's side first, then use the excuse of handling both families to slowly take over Hugh's assets. But now, Hugh had not only woken up, but his return in such a dominant way also meant that all of Shawn's plans had become useless!

"You look like a million-dollar inheritance. Let them stare. It keeps them focused on your face and off the hidden gear." I smoothed my hand over his sleeve, playing the part of the devoted, high-society partner. "Are you sure the Archbishop is even here?" "He's here," Enzo replied smoothly, guiding me through the sea of silk and tailored wool toward the VIP mezzanine. "A man like Archbishop Laurent doesn't miss a humanitarian gala. It's where he collects his blood money under the guise of orphan relief."

But also determined. "Archbishop Marcus," he said quietly. "You stand accused of conspiracy, murder, and treason. Guards, arrest him." "You have no authority over the church—" Marcus began. "I have authority over anyone who conspires to murder my son." Aldric's voice was cold fury. "Guards. Now." They moved quickly, dragging Marcus away despite his protests. The King turned to Adrian and Cassian. "It seems I owe you both an apology." "You owe the demon realm reparations," Adrian said quietly. "And systemic change. But apologies are a start."

"You are right. Even a noble and great person like you would not be able to unite the entire Peerless Dragon Gate in such a short period of time, much less a mere prince of Sunfall Empire." "The current Sunfall Empire can't even take back the gold that was lost in the Bermuda, let alone the support of the whole Holy Court of Europe. His Highness Allen only got the support of Holy Court of Europe Bishop in Red. It is said that the Archbishop is behind the Bishop in Red. As for whether the Archbishop supports him or not, I'm not sure." "Red-robed Bishop?" When Yang Xiao heard this familiar name, he suddenly frowned. Gong Ling'er immediately said temptingly, "Yang Xiao, do you know this Bishop

Archmaster asked to me as he diverted the topic. “For your information, I was the former demon king of Greed,” Mammon suddenly segued, taking the half of my face. Archmaster Leonard and Archmistress Demia were startled and the latter almost spit her tea at me because of too much surprise. They seemed terrified right now. And if it’s not only a serious meeting, I might laugh at their reactions. So I tried my best not to burst a laugh. Instead, I reprimanded Mammon. “Hey, Mammon, stop butting in our conversations unless I or we ask you to,” I told him.

James stood before an iron prison and looked at the person detained inside. The person inside was dressed in thin clothing, was extremely slim, and breathed weakly. The prisoner looked to be on his last breath. James frowned and thought, ‘What kind of evil arts is the Archbishop practicing? Why does he need to absorb the energy of living people to increase his strength?” He looked at the Archbishop who was standing beside him. The Archbishop was terrified, and his legs gave way again, causing him to collapse to the ground. He held on to the iron prison’s door and stood with difficulty. With a mournful face, he begged, “P-Please spare me. I won’t dare to do it anymore! I won’t capture strange

It was embossed with the Vance crest—the soaring falcon that had once represented my family’s reach across the Atlantic. "The Lucchesis were laundering money through your father’s secondary accounts for someone called 'The Architect,'" I said, remembering the scrolling green text that had illuminated the darkness. "If that person is on the Council, then Marco wasn't the only one who wanted us dead at The Eyrie." "The Architect is a ghost," Luciano muttered. "A name used in the old ledgers to describe the person who designs the 'accidents' that shift power in this city. My father feared them. The Lucchesis served them. And now, they are sitting in your boardroom, waiting to see if the little

“We did it.” Darwin exhaled. “Not yet.” He unzipped the bag, revealing the final proof of The Architect’s empire. It was the beginning of the end. --- The Architect’s Wrath Halfway across the world, Alexander Greaves sat in his penthouse, staring at the flashing red alerts on his screen. His empire was under siege. His grip tightened on his whiskey glass. For years, he had operated untouchable. A ghost in the system. A force behind kings and corporations.

“I didn’t know you were in Dubai.” “The Vatican takes an interest in all of God’s creation, Joseph,” the Archbishop said, his voice warm and mellifluous. “Even its boardrooms.” His gentle eyes turned to Davidson. “And you must be the young man causing all the stir. Davidson Ekon. I’ve heard much about you.” Davidson shook the offered hand, surprised by the strength in the old man’s grip. “Your Excellency.” “I knew your grandfather,” the Archbishop said softly. “A good man. A man of profound faith. He would be… curious… to see the path his grandson is walking.”

He just kept rinsing, water sliding over the red stains that refused to fade. “I saw the Archbishop too,” I continued, my voice low. “They were loading crates—guns, Ezreal. Weapons. Using the church as cover for smuggling routes. Donations, they called them.” Ezreal said nothing. His eyes stayed on me through the mist. “I confronted him,” I said. “And he told me the Church survives on power, not faith. That purity doesn’t keep the lights on. That you—” I stopped. “That betraying you was necessary.”