Chapter 74 Thirty Billion
THIRD PERSON'S POV
Carter reached for the phone on the desk. The moment his fingers closed around it, he froze. His pupils dilated as his gaze locked onto the screen.
The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
His breath hitched. He crouched instantly, snatching it back up, his hands trembling as he stared again—hoping he had imagined it.
He hadn’t.
“Who is this?” he typed back.
The reply came almost immediately. \[30 billion. In the next two days. Or the whole world sees this.\]
His chest tightened.
Sweat trickled down his forehead as a dark, broken chuckle escaped his lips, thin, and unstable.
Before he could think further, the door creaked open.
Giselle walked in. “Help me zip this up,” she muttered, standing before the mirror.
Carter didn’t move.
“Hey,” she called again, irritation creeping into her voice when he still didn’t respond. She turned, staring at him through the mirror. He hadn’t even blinked.
Frowning, she walked over and tugged lightly at his shirt.
His gaze snapped to her. “I have to go,” Carter said flatly.
Giselle froze.
“You promised to take me to the mall today,” she said sharply. “And dinner afterward.” He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he stepped closer, and pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
“Company issues,” he muttered.
Giselle sighed. Something felt off—cold, distant, but she swallowed the words forming in her throat.
“Okay,” she said quietly, pecking his lips.
Carter was already walking away. He got into his car and drove off immediately.
How the hell did that unknown sender get those details?
The money: every transaction, every account number—it was the money he had embezzled from his own company. Every single detail laid bare.
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel.
“Fuck. Fuck!” he yelled, his breath ragged.
The car screeched to a halt. He had to fix this. Fast.
Carter grabbed his phone and dialed the number.
It rang.....And rang.....Then cut off.
His jaw clenched. He called again. This time, a lazy voice answered.
“What?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Carter barked. “Threatening me with false information!” There was a pause.
Then a chuckle—soft, amused.
“Wrong number,” the female voice replied. “Threatening? I don’t do that.”
Carter sneered, eyes flicking to the road as the green light flashed.
He restarted the engine and drove. “Stop pretending,” he snapped. “You texted me, you fucking bitch. Do you know who you’re talking to?”
A sigh came through the line.
Then—
“Fuck off my call.”
His grip tightened. “…Is this really a wrong number?” he asked.
Silence.
Then a laughter burst through the speaker: loud, mocking, cruel.
“Fucking bastard,” the voice said. “You’re the one who stole the money. The one who raped a girl. Weren’t you saying you were untouchable before? What happened now?”
Carter’s hands shook violently.
“Who the hell are you?” he whispered. Music played faintly in the background: calm, almost playful.
“What do you want?” he asked hoarsely. “Anything. Name it.”
A slow sigh drifted through the line. “The money. Two days,” the voice said. “If you don’t deliver, I’ll show you just how valuable a woman’s pain can be.”.
The call cut. Dead!
Carter stared at the screen, his vision blurring. Thirty billion.
Two days.....He felt the world tilted. Bright headlights flashed suddenly, blinding him.
A truck horn blared.
He jerked the steering wheel to the side but Too late......The car slammed into a tree.
The metal screamed and the glass shattered. Outside, sirens wailed.
Flashing lights filled the night. Phien were raised, recording, even cameras clicked.
And........
UNKNOWN VILLA
Matteo stared at the document, his gaze dragging over every single detail, every clause and hidden line. The paper smelled faintly of ink and polished wood, expensive: controlled. This was it. The contract that would finally put Erica back in his reach.
A slow breath slid out of his nose.
“So this is all?” he asked, lifting his eyes to Otelia.
She nodded instantly. “Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Not enough,” he rasped.
Matteo pushed back from the desk and stood, the chair scraping softly against the floor. He slid his hands into his pockets and walked toward the glass window that stretched across the wall. Below him, the city breathed: cars flowing like blood through veins, sirens blaring in the distance, horns clashing, life moving too fast to care.
His reflection stared back at him in the glass. Cold. Sharp. Patient.
A smirk tugged at his lips. He needed a drink.
“Get the car ready,” he muttered without turning.
“Yes,” Otelia replied, already moving. The door clicked shut behind her.....But she didn’t leave immediately. Otelia paused in the hallway, ber heels still, the faint hum of the building pressing around her. A slow smile curved her lips as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
She dialed.
The line connected almost instantly. “Hello,” she said softly. “Did you do it?”
A male voice answered, low and irritated. “You are not my boss, Otelia. Mind your tongue.” Ricco Erica’s uncle muttered.
Otelia chuckled under her breath, pacing now, the sound of her heels echoing sharply against the tiled floor.
“Relax,” she said. “I have them with me. Erica will walk straight into the trap herself.” A satisfied sigh slipped from her lips.
“I have additional information,” she added. “Are your men in position?”
“Yes,” Ricco replied.
The call ended.
Otelia lowered the phone just as she reached the parking unit. The air smelled of oil and concrete, cold and hollow. A shadows stretched along the walls.
A man dressed in a black hoodie stepped toward her, his face half-hidden beneath the hood.
“What’s this?” he asked, walking toward the sealed package in her hand.
A sneer curled Otelia’s lips. She rolled her eyes slowly, almost bored, then licked her lips before handing it over.
“It’s for your boss to find out,” she muttered. The man took it without another word and walked away, his footsteps fading into the echoing space.
Otelia watched him go, her smile thinning. “Erica…” she whispered to herself.
Her gaze hardened.
“Are you really Erica! Or not"