Building The Strongest Family-Chapter 202: The Leash Of Shadows

Inside the Osborn estate, Arthur’s study room stood as a monument to time, untouched and unwavering.

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm orange reflections against the dark-paneled walls.

Every corner of the room brimmed with history: towering bookshelves lined with leather-bound tomes, rare ceramic urns resting under glass, all whispering tales of a legacy long cherished.

Arthur sat at his desk, hands steepled beneath his chin, his untouched glass of wine mirroring his deep contemplation.

His narrowed eyes seemed to pierce through the silence, lost in thought.

Outside, a storm rolled in slowly over the estate grounds; rain tapped on the tall windows like a thousand tiny fingers begging for entry. Yet Arthur remained unmoved.

After what felt like an eternity, he stirred and raised his head to address the giant OLED screen that loomed before him.

"Evolon," he called out, his voice low but resolute.

In response, the air above the screen shimmered as Evolon’s familiar fractal mask rippled into existence a blue face both serene and soulless formed from trillions of shifting data points.

"I am here, Sir."

Arthur leaned forward intently. "Status update on Subject Billy Osborn."

Evolon’s fractal eyes pulsed rhythmically like heat signatures. "Pulling real-time metrics... one moment."

As if responding to an unspoken command, the study dimmed and transformed into a dynamic display of information: surveillance streams flickered to life alongside facial scans, spending logs, voice recordings, all coalescing into a multidimensional tableau centered around Billy Osborn or rather William Byrne, as he now called himself.

The feed zoomed in on him at YoruMart’s back exit, shoulders hunched and uniform drenched in grease as he lugged a trash compactor down a narrow alleyway where rats scurried at his approach.

Neon signs from nearby establishments flickered behind him like dying stars.

Arthur observed in silence; his expression was carved from stone.

"Subject currently employed under a false name at a low-tier mega-mart in Neo-Luminara’s Sector 9,"

Evolon intoned methodically. "Daily wages range between 28 and 34 Unicreds. Physical health declining; sleep deficiency critical; nutrition level: poor."

Another image surfaced,Billy counting loose change at a noodle stand as he exchanged 9 Unicreds for a bowl of synth-pork ramen the vendor barely acknowledging his presence.

A third feed appeared: Billy standing in line at a public kiosk with his résumé clutched tightly while an indifferent recruiter skimmed it before dismissing him outright.

Arthur inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for just a moment before opening them again with renewed focus. "He still has fight left in him," he murmured thoughtfully.

Evolon confirmed quietly, "Correct, Sir. Psychological scans indicate emotional fatigue; however, resolve remains high."

"Unacceptable."*

Arthur stood abruptly, stepping away from his desk and striding toward the flickering screen.

There it was,Billy’s face, distorted and blurry from a low-grade CCTV camera, staring back at him with an expression of ignorance.

Sweat glistened on his forehead, and dirt clung stubbornly beneath his nails.

Once upon a time, that very face had sparkled with joy during family dinners.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, a cold glint flashing within them.

"The Osborn Family gave him everything: education, resources, shelter, love,a legacy! And he spat on it all because of some damn woman? Our sacrifices mean nothing to him?"

"Confirmed," Evolon replied smoothly.

Arthur turned slowly to face Evolon. "He must understand this harsh reality: the world isn’t a dream. Without the Osborn name, without structure or power, he is nothing.

He needs to feel it in his bones! He has to realize that without influence and privilege, he is merely a slave to this world. The true dictators aren’t governments; they’re capitalists."

He circled back to his desk and sank into the chair, fingers drumming rhythmically against the armrest.

"Evolon," he commanded coolly, "ensure he never earns more than 100 Unicreds in any given month."

The AI processed this quietly for a moment before responding. "Understood. Employment interference initiated."

Arthur’s voice dropped lower as he continued coldly, "Every application he submits? Bury it! Corrupt his digital background checks! Flag his ID as error-prone! Make sure he gets calls for jobs no one wants, sewage processing, sanitation overflow... battery disposal!"

He paused thoughtfully before shaking his head slightly. "Actually, no that’s too kind. Give him shift overlap gigs that pay only partial wages and offer zero rest."

Evolon responded with chilling precision: "Confirmed. Cross-referencing city-wide low-tier job listings now. Creating artificial demand to funnel subject into least desirable positions."

"Food," Arthur added with grim determination. "No more noodles; they’re too nutritious! Limit him to the lowest grade consumption level available under Neo-Luminara’s nutritional index, no more than 1,000 calories per day."

"Caloric deprivation protocol initialized," Evolon confirmed smoothly. "Vendor blacklists implemented via proxy nodes."

Arthur clenched his jaw as a cold fire ignited behind his eyes.

"I want him surrounded by struggle!" he declared fiercely. "Every corner he turns should greet him with despair but I don’t want him dead; that would be mercy! I want him trapped in purgatory!"

There was a brief pause before Arthur added slowly, "And now... let’s bring the city, no... the whole country to witness this."

Evolon tilted its head slightly in confusion. "Sir?"

Arthur stood once more, his silhouette stark against the moonlight that poured through the window, framing him like a statue carved from shadows and despair.

"Leak his whereabouts. Spin it as a ’fall from grace’ story, a cautionary tale," he commanded, his voice dripping with disdain. "The Osborn heir who dared to rebel. Make sure it’s plastered across every major headline by morning."

Evolon, the ever-watchful AI, hesitated for a moment before responding. "Understood. Initiating public narrative control now. Uploading surveillance stills to press channels. Preparing the headline: ’Osborn Heir Found Cleaning Trash in Sector 9: Billionaire’s Son Now a Janitor.’"

A satisfied smirk crept onto Arthur’s face. "Good."

"Shall I tag Sophia Valentine and other former associates for algorithmic amplification?" Evolon inquired.

Arthur’s expression darkened slightly. "Yes. Especially her. Let her witness the boy she kept talking trash into his ears reduced to nothing but a shadow of his former self."

"Understood," Evolon replied.

Returning to his chair, Arthur’s gaze fixated on the live feed,Billy was wiping sweat from his brow, glancing nervously at a security drone hovering above him, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just out of sight.

"You will not return to me empty-handed," Arthur whispered to the screen, intensity radiating from him. "You will not rise because kindness exists in this world. You will suffer; you will crawl through your pain and if you survive that... then maybe,..just maybe..you’ll be worthy of the Osborn name again."

Behind him, the fire crackled ominously, sending sparks into the air like scattered stars igniting hope in an otherwise dark night.

Evolon dimmed its display slightly; yet one fractal eye remained aglow, a solitary point of light above the screen like an unyielding judgment.

"All systems aligned, Sir," it confirmed.

"Then let the world watch him fall," Arthur declared with chilling finality.

He lifted his glass of wine to his lips, now calm, now satisfied and drank deeply as if savoring victory itself.

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