World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

Sam tapped his cane on the floor with every step as we walked to the door of the mansion.

Derec stayed by the BMW; he didn't follow.

The door was wide open.

We stepped through the door into this huge, stunning atrium, stretching from the ground floor all the way up to the ceiling, with balconies on the upper floors overlooking the central area.

The flooring was made of marble tiles; there was a long carpet running through the center and light from outside came in through the glass ceiling.

Immediately, several distant family members, sitting on sofas in the center, threw glances at us.

Two kids were running around, making noise and racing past us.

It took just a second for a maid to approach us with a polite smile.

She wore a fitted maid's uniform with a white apron over a short, dark blue dress, which hugged her figure a bit too tight. Her hair was styled in loose waves, and her makeup was done just right.

"Good afternoon," she greeted and looked at us expectantly. "Will you be needing to take your jackets off?"

I nodded and handed her my jacket with a smile. "Yes, please. Thank you."

She took the jacket from me and moved to hang it up.

Just when she was helping Sam to get his jacket off, an older woman walked up to us.

She was wearing a tailored violet dress, complemented by expensive jewelry. There was a certain aloofness and refined aspect to this woman.

She was Monica Johnson, Sam's mother.

She glanced at Sam with a cool expression. "Sam. You're early." Her tone was formal, almost mechanical.

Sam forced a polite smile. "Yes, Mom. We made good time. This is Jack Somnus."

Monica's gaze shifted to me; her smile measured and faintly frosty. "I trust Sam's company was pleasant?"

I nodded, keeping my tone neutral. "Yes, thank you. The drive was fine."

Monica's smile barely reached her eyes. "Good..." she said and then she glanced back at Sam. "We are still waiting for your father."

Sam looked somewhere in front of him. "Another grand entrance?" he asked his mother.

Monica's gaze sharpened. "Your father is getting old... Let him be."

As Monica made her way up the stairs, I slowly walked to the center of the atrium with Sam.

There were quite a few people, but Sam's siblings were not here. Instead, it was mostly distant relatives and a few business associates.

Well, Derec was also a distant relative and he wouldn't have been invited if he wasn't leading a successful company nowadays.

Definitely didn't help him in that...

The guest list usually hovered around fifteen people, give or take. I recognized a few faces, including the executives of WhitePath USA and WhitePath Europe. They were chatting quietly among themselves.

The kids, who were running around earlier, were from Sam's mom's side of the family. They were very spoiled. Another maid was attending to them.

Arnold's accountant, Adam, was there too, along with Sam's uncle, Ronald Johnson, both with gray and thinning hair.

They had a conversation going on...

I grabbed a glass of champagne from the refreshment table.

As I was drinking my champagne, the mood in the room suddenly changed.

Gabriel Johnson walked in from one of the side halls.

He was Arnold Johnson's oldest child and was in his late 30s.

He looked different from everyone else. His dark brown hair was a bit messy, and his style was more laid-back than the others. He wore a dark red sweater and black trousers—not too fancy, but still well put together.

"Sam!" He called out, his voice louder than the quiet conversations around us.

He moved through the room like he owned the place, a big smile on his face.

He gave Sam a big, warm hug. "Good to see you, bro!" he clapped Sam on the back.

From the outside, it would look like Gabriel was genuinely happy to see his little brother.

Then he looked at me with a friendly smile. "And who's this?" he asked, holding out his hand.

I shook his hand. "Jack Somnus. Sam's business partner."

Gabriel did not look like he cared; he quickly looked away when one of the maids walked by.

He gave her a playful clap on the butt.

She jumped a little, and turned around in surprise.

"Whoops! My bad!" He winked at her, completely unbothered.

She hurried away.

Gabriel just laughed and turned back to me. "Where were we... business partner... okay, good... You look serious." He looked me up and down, then casually adjusted the collar of my suit jacket. "Where do you get your suits, by the way?"

"Havana," I replied, meeting his gaze.

"Fuck, It's dazzling, boxy," He said with a nod. "I mean, like, this family could use someone with some fashion sense," He paused for a moment. "But, this whole thing? I'm sorry, but like," He gestured vaguely at my suit. "it's not it. It's actually fucking sad.

It's dirty, it's weird. What the fuck are you wearing, man?" He let out a hollow laugh.

"Gabriel... stop." Sam stepped in, clearly annoyed.

"Whoa!" Gabriel threw up his hands in an exaggerated gesture. "What's the fuss, Sam? Should I leave your little puppy alone, huh?" He smirked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence.

"Stop acting childish," Sam said.

"Alright, alright, I'll go," Gabriel replied, turning back to me. "Anyway, welcome to the madhouse."

As Gabriel walked away, I noticed Monica walking down the stairs and up the hallway.

She leaned into one of the rooms, seemingly saying something important.

Then there was the sound of footsteps coming from the second floor.

Arnold Johnson appeared at the top of the grand staircase, walking out of his room.

He was wearing a high-end, tailored black suit. He had a rugged and stern face with a strong jawline and deep lines that conveyed a lifetime of hard work and leadership. His grey hair was neatly combed and his eyes were sharp and penetrating.

"Unyielding" would be the word to describe him.

As Arnold surveyed the room from the balcony, Monica walked back up the stairs.

From the room she had just leaned into, walked out Evelyn. She was a natural redhead, with fair complexion and high cheekbones. Her hair was styled in sophisticated soft waves and she had a sharp black blazer paired with tailored trousers on.

Her style was clearly designed to project power.

Doyle was right behind her in a black suit that looked a lot like the one his father wore.