Chapter 686

"Connections. Safe accounts. Reduced charges..."

Wilson Fisk almost laughed when he heard those words.

They were strangely familiar.

Years ago, when he had been young and just starting out in Hell’s Kitchen, Fisk had arrived with nothing but ambition and a willingness to work. A priest at the church had once told him that he had the kind of fate that left a mountain of corpses behind every great achievement.

Fisk had disagreed.

If you were going to make your way in the world, you chose your own path.

He might have looked slow and unassuming back then, but he had always been smart. He’d built an entire scheme around safe accounts and reduced charges, hoping to make his first fortune without breaking too many bones or burning too many bridges.

Unfortunately, he’d been much better at calculating other people than himself.

His negotiation skills had been terrible.

For the first six months, people saw through him an average of one to three times a day. Within a year, he’d been arrested six times.

Somehow, he had survived.

Eventually, Fisk had accepted reality. Sometimes you had to be ruthless. Trying to please everyone and solve everything with soft words only made people think you were weak.

So he had taken up underground fighting, joined a criminal organization, and eventually become the undisputed king of Hell’s Kitchen.

And now, after all these years, he was hearing those same words again.

I didn’t have a choice back then.

Now I just want to be a quiet crime boss.

So don’t try to sell me the same tricks I used to pull on other people.

Fisk wasn’t exactly gifted with diplomacy, but he knew better than to say that aloud.

"After all these years, I don’t even know how many crimes I’ve committed," he said carefully. "If everything comes to light, the federal government could probably stack enough charges on me to keep me in prison for twenty thousand years."

His expression remained calm.

"And my assets? No matter how thoroughly they’ve been laundered, the FBI won’t simply let them go. Like you said, anyone who’s had significant financial dealings with me is going to be investigated as well."

He paused.

"So if I transfer everything to you, won’t that drag you into the mess?"

For Fisk, that was practically a masterpiece of tact.

Unfortunately, it still sounded like a challenge.

You’re asking me to hand over my entire fortune. Fine.

But can you actually hold it?

Because if the waves get high enough, they might sink your boat too.

The moment Fisk finished speaking, Grace grew tense.

She didn’t know how to smooth things over, either.

The man’s words might have been unpleasant, but they were true.

She could step forward, flatter Evenson, and arrange for Fisk to transfer his assets exactly as requested. That part wasn’t impossible.

But what happened afterward?

If the authorities eventually traced the money and dragged whoever was holding it into the investigation, would they simply accept that as the price of doing business? Or would they blame Grace for bringing them into the mess in the first place?

Under the circumstances, Grace decided that silence was the safest option.

Evenson sighed.

Not angrily. He wasn’t offended by Fisk’s refusal.

It was the weary sigh of a man who had just confirmed something he already suspected.

"I told you," he said. "You’re thinking too small."

He pulled out his phone, made a call, and spoke quietly for a few minutes.

About five minutes later, Stephanie walked into the room.

She was still riding the high of seeing the first batch of soldiers successfully complete their enhancements, and the moment she spotted Evenson, her face brightened.

She walked straight over, shook his hand warmly, then greeted him with an unmistakably Western cheek-to-cheek embrace.

"What did you call me over for?" she asked cheerfully. "If there’s something you need, just ask."

Evenson motioned for her to sit.

Then he turned toward Fisk and Grace.

"This is Stephanie Malik."

He put particular emphasis on the surname.

Fisk and Grace immediately exchanged a look.

"Malik?" Fisk asked cautiously. "That Malik?"

"The very same." Evenson smiled. "Gideon Malik. Former member of the World Security Council’s five-member leadership group, and now an adviser to the President of the United States."

He gestured toward Stephanie.

"And Stephanie is his eldest daughter."

Fisk and Grace both sucked in a quiet breath.

Fisk didn’t advertise the fact, but he understood Chinese. Grace, having been born in China, understood the significance even more clearly.

In modern Western society, there was no formal distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children in the old sense. But when someone went out of their way to emphasize that a daughter was the eldest, it meant something.

Gideon Malik was currently the head of the Malik family.

But what happened after him?

Who would inherit his position?

Who would control the family?

The old rules of inheritance had never worked particularly cleanly in the West. Even centuries ago, succession could turn into a fight between brothers, cousins, and distant relatives. In the modern world, there was even less certainty.

Yet Evenson had gone out of his way to identify Stephanie as Gideon’s eldest daughter.

That was practically a declaration.

The future head of the Malik family would be her.

And if she truly occupied that position, the weight her words carried within the family was obvious.

Then there was the Malik family itself.

Ancient. Powerful. Deeply entrenched throughout American society.

Fisk and Grace couldn’t help feeling a little bitter.

So this was what Evenson meant when he said they were thinking too small.

They were used to bribing cops and manipulating local officials. Even dealing with the FBI made them nervous.

Meanwhile, Gideon Malik was the kind of man who could summon the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. simply to chew him out.

The difference in their worlds was almost absurd.

Evenson pointed casually at Fisk.

"This is Wilson Fisk. He operates in Hell’s Kitchen. You may have heard of him."

Stephanie fell silent.

She considered the name for several seconds before finally giving a vague nod.

"I think I’ve heard of him."

The way she looked at Evenson afterward carried a faint note of reproach.

Why are you dealing with someone like this?

And why did you bring me here to meet him?

Evenson ignored the look.

"Mr. Fisk is a major figure in Hell’s Kitchen. Unfortunately, things haven’t been going particularly well for him lately. He’s worried that if something happens to him, he’ll lose everything he’s worked for and have nothing left to live on."

He smiled.

"So I thought I’d make an introduction. Would you be willing to hold his assets temporarily, just long enough for him to avoid the FBI’s investigation?"

"This..."

Stephanie hesitated.

"That could be difficult."

The response was instinctive.

As a daughter of one of America’s most powerful families, Stephanie had little interest in helping someone like Fisk. The fact that he was a criminal only made the idea less appealing.

"Difficult?"

Evenson frowned.

"I know you’re busy dealing with your family’s affairs these days. We’ve helped your company quite a bit with that, haven’t we?"

Stephanie nodded solemnly.

"Yes."

"In that case, if this is too difficult..."

Evenson’s expression suddenly relaxed.

He smiled.

"Never mind, then."

"Wait."

Stephanie immediately stopped him.

"I said it’s difficult. I never said I couldn’t do it."

She turned toward the others.

"There’s no need to involve my father. I have some influence with the FBI myself."

She paused.

"I’ll make a few calls and arrange things. Once that’s done, prepare the assets you want to transfer and we’ll handle the paperwork."

Then she raised a finger.

"One more thing. Leave something behind for the FBI to find."

Fisk’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Don’t be sentimental about it. Give them enough to investigate and enough to show that they’ve accomplished something. Everyone needs a way to save face."

Stephanie stood.

"That’s it. You can continue your discussion. I need to make a few calls."

She looked distinctly displeased now.

"And don’t make a habit of coming to me with things like this."

"Understood."

Evenson smiled and nodded.

He knew perfectly well that using what amounted to a threat wasn’t something he should make a habit of.

He didn’t particularly like doing it himself.

But sometimes, when you were dealing with people who thought too small, you had to remind them how much bigger the world really was.