Chapter 8 - The Ultimatum
Julian sat in the ruined penthouse, blood dripping from his hairline. He was a billionaire. He could buy countries. But in this moment, he had never felt so utterly powerless.
His platinum phone buzzed.
He answered it.
“You really thought you could outsmart me, Julian?” Victor’s voice sneered through the speaker. “David told me everything. The snipers at the shipping yard. The ambush.”
“If you touch one hair on her head, Victor, I will spend every cent of my fifty billion dollars hunting you to the ends of the earth.”
“Save your breath,” Victor said. “The deal has changed. You aren't just signing over the company. You are going to confess to the FBI that you are the mastermind behind the cartel laundering. You take the fall. I take the empire. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll let your waitress and her bastard go.”
“Where are you?” Julian demanded.
“Pier 44. Come alone. Bring the transfer deeds and a signed confession. If I see a single helicopter, sniper, or cop, I toss your wife and kid into the harbor in a locked trunk.”
The line died.
Marcus looked at Julian. “Sir. We can’t let you go alone.”
May you like
Julian stood up, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying calm. He walked over to a hidden wall safe, pressed his thumb to the scanner, and pulled out a sleek, black briefcase.
“I am going alone,” Julian said. “But Victor forgot one thing. I didn't build a fifty-billion-dollar empire by playing by the rules.”
