After the female secretary left, Norman gradually calmed down, but his face still looked like a patient who had just escaped from a mental hospital.
Norman walked to the bookshelf and pushed the books on the shelf inwards in order.
As the bookshelf slowly opened from the middle, a faint light emerged, and a suit of green armor appeared before Norman.
"If you are not benevolent, don't blame me for being unjust. Today, Norman Osborn will reclaim everything that belongs to him."
With that, Norman reached out, took off the armor, and put it on.
The green armor, with its purple accents, looked like a Halloween ghost wandering the night. A single glance sent shivers down one's spine. Its pointed ears resembled those of a goblin, and its yellow eyes revealed unadulterated madness.
The moment the helmet of the armor descended, Norman Osborn was no more, only the Green Goblin remained.
The Green Goblin entered the secret room of the office.
This was his meticulously crafted armory, equipped with the best and most advanced weapons developed by Osborn Group. More importantly, these weapons were almost all completed by Norman himself. Aside from the experimental products used by the fiends, only his here was available on the market.
"Kill, kill all those who betrayed Norman Osborn."
Piloting a flying machine, the roaring Green Goblin rushed out of the office, gradually disappearing into the night.
At this time, in the villa, Dute had no idea that the Green Goblin was coming for his life. He was still hosting a grand banquet in his villa, inviting influential figures.
High-end banquets hosted by the upper echelons of the American elite were a common occurrence.
They needed to gather people of the same or higher status through such social events to expand their networks, and the invited guests mostly had similar objectives.
An extra friend meant an extra path, and no one would complain about having too many friends, especially influential ones who could be of use.
Although Dute's eldest son was spoiled and had a host of bad habits, it had to be admitted that having frequented various banquets and parties, he possessed rich experience. Therefore, Dute's banquets were always organized by his eldest son.
His eldest son had never disappointed him in this regard, almost always making the banquets grand and successful, giving his father Dute a rare moment of pride.
This time was no exception. Under the organization of his eldest son, the banquet was scheduled to start at eight in the evening.
Unlike ordinary office workers, their nightlife truly began after eight o'clock, with some indulging in revelry until noon the next day.
The eldest son's choice of time for the banquet was also carefully considered. If it was too early, many magnates would refuse to attend due to unfinished work or client meetings. If it was too late, guests would have to wait too long, which was not ideal.
Eight o'clock was the perfect time. After a day's work, invited guests would have finished their work and dinner, making it just right to arrive around eight.
Although the banquet would feature some expensive dishes, most of the attendees were influential figures. They would at most have some desserts and sample some red wine. Anyone seen stuffing themselves in a corner would surely be looked down upon by others.
Most guests would take advantage of the banquet's atmosphere to find various "prey" or potential future collaborators.
Banquets typically lasted for an hour and a half to two hours, ending around ten o'clock.
After the banquet concluded, many magnates could leave with the women of their choice, embarking on leisurely conversations about life.
However, this banquet was different from the usual.
Half an hour before the banquet was scheduled to begin, an expensive black car stopped at the entrance of the villa.
Attendants quickly stepped forward and respectfully opened the car door.
An elderly man in a black suit with white hair emerged from the car, leaning on a black cane with a golden rim, looking exceedingly opulent.
"Uncle Wenger, you're here."
Upon seeing the old man, the eldest son immediately stepped forward to greet him.
The man addressed as Wenger was no ordinary person. Like Dute, he was a veteran of the Osborn Group and also a close friend of Dute.
Watching the eldest son's jovial demeanor, Wenger gently tapped his leg with his cane.
"You rascal, always causing trouble for your father."
As Wenger had watched him grow up, the eldest son dared not harbor any resentment and replied with a smiling face, "Not at all, Uncle Wenger. Where did you hear such a thing?"
"Do I need to inquire? Everyone knows what you've done. But never mind, just remember not to cross the line, and I won't say anything. Otherwise, don't blame me if neither your father nor I can save you."
The eldest son repeatedly nodded, "Yes, yes, yes, I'll be careful."
Wenger nodded with satisfaction and asked, "Where is that old fellow Dute?"
The eldest son quickly replied, "My father is in his room on the second floor. Shall I take you?"
Wenger waved his hand, "No need, I know the way. The banquet is about to begin, you should be at the entrance greeting guests."
With that, he entered the villa with the assistance of his bodyguards.
As time gradually approached eight o'clock, the invited guests began arriving at the villa.
Guests dressed in opulent attire alighted from their cars, escorted by their respective bodyguards. These were influential figures whose mere stamp of approval could shake New York.
However, compared to these distinguished guests, the number of servants bustling about was even greater, as they needed to be at the cars' disposal the moment they stopped to open doors and park them.
The guests gathered in groups of three or five, entering the villa with laughter and conversation.
In the main hall, a spectacle of dazzling lights and opulence unfolded, showcasing worldly prosperity.
Soft music perfectly set the mood for the banquet, and countless men and women danced gracefully on the dance floor while successful individuals engaged in conversation.
But the focus of this banquet was not here; it was upstairs.
Outside the conference room on the second floor of the villa, people in suits continuously entered and exited. Six or seven bodyguards armed with firearms stood guard outside to ensure the smooth proceedings of the meeting.
The attendees of this meeting were shareholders of the Osborn Group. Looking around, most of them had white hair, and the youngest were around fifty years old.
Yet, despite their age, the aura emanating from these elders was no less potent than that of younger men.
Seated in the center was the initiator of this meeting, Dute.
This time, this group of Osborn Group shareholders had gathered for one reason and one reason only: the current chairman of Osborn Group, Norman Osborn.
The banquet downstairs was merely a cover; the true purpose was to discuss how to deal with Norman Osborn.
Dute surveyed the crowd and slowly said, "Gentlemen, everyone seems to have arrived. I believe we can begin."