Building a Conglomerate in Another World-Chapter 250: Prelude to Something Riskier

The Order’s War Room

The mood inside the war room was tense. The radio had just finished replaying President Hesh’s speech, and now the men around the table sat in silence, absorbing the weight of what had just happened.

Gideon Langston’s fingers tapped against the wooden surface, his mind racing. The Order had planned for many things, but not for this. Hesh had named them in front of the entire country, exposed their influence, and presented evidence that could cripple them.

Victor Kessler leaned back in his chair, adjusting his glasses. "This is bad."

Jonathan Hawthorne poured himself a drink, his hands steady despite the turmoil around him. "Worse than bad. He just turned the public against us."

Langston exhaled sharply. "Then we need to remove him before he does any more damage."

Cornelius Voss, the shipping magnate, frowned. "An assassination?"

Langston nodded. "There’s no other option. If we let him continue, by tomorrow morning, every government agency will be investigating us. If we wait any longer, we lose everything."

Kessler reached into his coat and pulled out a dossier. He placed it on the table and slid it toward Langston.

"Konrad Faust is already in Amerathia," Kessler said. "He’s done work for us before. Silent, precise, and most importantly—disposable."

Langston opened the file. Inside was a photograph of a man with sharp features, dark eyes, and an expression devoid of emotion.

"Where is he now?" Langston asked.

Kessler smirked. "Waiting for our orders. If we give him the green light, he’ll take care of Hesh before the sun sets tomorrow."

Hawthorne swirled the whiskey in his glass. "And how do we make sure Royce isn’t implicated?"

Kessler leaned forward. "That’s the beauty of it. The assassin will be ’neutralized’ immediately after the attack. The narrative will be simple—Hesh was killed by a radical extremist, someone from within his own ranks, furious about how he handled the election crisis."

Langston stared at the photograph for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"Do it."

April 11, 1897.

Konrad Faust was not a man who asked questions. He had been hired for a job, and that was all that mattered.

Sitting in a small apartment just outside Washington D.C., he calmly cleaned his weapon—a modified bolt-action rifle designed for close-range precision. He had studied Hesh’s routine, his public movements, and most importantly, his scheduled rally later that day.

The plan was simple. Faust would pose as a journalist in the press section, blending in with the crowd. When Hesh stepped forward to shake hands with his supporters, he would fire a single shot to the heart. Before anyone could react, an Order operative stationed nearby would eliminate him, ensuring there were no loose ends.

No witnesses. No interrogations. Just another assassination that would go down as an unfortunate act of political violence.

April 11, 1897.

Thousands of supporters gathered in the square, waving Amerathian flags, chanting for the President. Despite the turmoil in recent weeks, despite the scandals, the false accusations, and the smear campaigns, Matthew Hesh still stood strong.

He took the stage, adjusting his coat as the crowd erupted in cheers. Collins stood a few feet behind him, watching the scene with wary eyes. The security presence had been increased after the revelations about The Order, but something still felt… off.

Collins leaned toward one of the Secret Service agents. "I want extra eyes on the press section."

The agent nodded and relayed the command.

In the crowd, Konrad Faust moved into position. He lifted his camera, pretending to adjust the lens, but his real focus was on Hesh. His hand slipped into his coat, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his weapon.

Just as he began to pull it out, something pressed against the small of his back.

"Don’t move," a voice whispered.

Faust froze.

A hand grabbed his wrist, forcing it away from the weapon. A second later, two men in plain suits flanked him, pressing closer.

"Secret Service," one of them murmured. "You’re coming with us."

Faust didn’t struggle. He had been caught, and he knew there was no way out.

The assassination had failed.

April 11, 1897.

The moment Konrad Faust’s arrest hit the newspapers, The Order knew they were in trouble.

Inside their war room, Langston read the headline aloud:

"PRESIDENTIAL ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT FOILED – FOREIGN MERCENARY CAPTURED!"

Hawthorne cursed under his breath. "How the hell did they know?"

Kessler’s face was pale. "Someone must have tipped them off."

Langston clenched his jaw. "Or Hesh was already expecting us to make a move."

Voss wiped sweat from his forehead. "This is bad. Really bad. If Faust talks, he’ll lead them straight to us."

Kessler shook his head. "No, he won’t. Faust is a professional. He won’t betray his employers."

Langston wasn’t convinced. "And what if he does? What if they break him?"

No one had an answer.

For the first time, The Order felt real fear.

April 12, 1897.

News of the assassination attempt spread like wildfire. Crowds gathered outside the White House, demanding answers. The press speculated wildly—who was behind it? Was it a foreign government? A rogue faction?

Then, Hesh addressed the nation.

"My fellow Amerathians, today, an attempt was made on my life." His voice was steady, but his eyes burned with determination. "But I am still here. And I will not back down."

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He raised a document.

"The man who attempted to take my life was hired. And we have reason to believe he was working for the same people who have been orchestrating the chaos in our country." Read latest stories on novelbuddy

Gasps rippled through the press.

"The Order of the Phoenix Society is behind this. And I am ordering the immediate arrest of those involved."

The war had escalated.

April 12, 1897.

Inside the war room, Langston knew they were out of time. The government was closing in. Hesh had survived.

Hawthorne took a deep breath. "We have one move left."

Langston stared at him. "Go on."

Hawthorne exhaled. "If we can’t remove Hesh through assassination, we remove him through force."

Langston narrowed his eyes. "You mean a coup?"

Hawthorne nodded. "Yes. If we don’t act now, we’ll be the ones behind bars."

Langston looked around the room. The men who had once controlled the nation were now fighting for their own survival.

It was time for their final gamble.

April 13, 1897.

The Order was desperate, and desperate men were dangerous.

Armed operatives loyal to The Order began moving into key positions around the capital. Rogue military officers, bribed politicians, and corrupt police officials were given their orders.

By nightfall, Washington D.C. would be under siege.