Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 235

Chapter 235 The Deadly Price He Paid

“The gala is an underground masquerade, Ricardo explained. “An annual gathering for the elite class. No names. No faces. Just wealth and masks. The proxy goes by the alias The Architect. He holds the master ledger on an encrypted drive. He plans to hand over to a new buyer at midnight.”

“Sterling is selling his secrets?” I asked.

“Sterling needs cash, Ricardo confirmed. “You exposed his connection to Thomas Whitmore. His offshore accounts took a hit from the panic. The political elite are distancing themselves. He is liquidating his assets. The master edger is his insurance policy. The highest bidder wins.

“We steal the drive, Tristan stated. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We expose the buyers. We ruin Sterling.”

“You need an invitation, Ricardo warned. The security protocol is military-grade. Armed guards. Retinal scanners at the outer gates. They check the guest list against an encrypted blockchain. You cannot forge an entry ticket.

‘I can acquire an invitation, Tristan said.

I looked at him. “How?”

“I know a man in the Swiss underground,” Tristan replied. “A broker. He sells access. He manipulates the blockchain. But his price is steep.”

“Pay him,” I said. I pointed to the steel lockbox full of cash sitting on the table.

*He does not accept cash,” Tristan said. His jaw tightened. “He trades in favors. Blood debts.”

The room went quiet. A blood debt in the underworld meant Tristan owed his life to a criminal. A blank check for a future assassination or corporate sabotage. We possessed no corporate shields. A blood debt carried a fatal weight/

‘Do it,’ I ordered. I met his stare. I refused to hesitate. “We pay the price. We survive today. We deal with the ghosts tomorrow.”

Tristan nodded. He picked up his burner phone. He walked to the far corner of the bunker. He dialed a long sequence of numbers. He spoke in low, clipped tones in a dialect I did not recognize.

I turned my attention back to the laptop.

“Ricardo,” I said. “Send me the blueprints for the gala estate. I need the layout. The exits. The blind spots.”

‘Sending now, Ricardo replied. “Mina, be careful. The Architect uses private contractors. Ex-military. They shoot intruders on sight. They leave no witnesses.

“They have to catch me first,’ I said.

The screen filled with architectural schematics. An ancient chateau nestled in the Swiss Alps. Thick stone walls. High towers. A literal fortress. The security perimeter spanned ten acres. The vault sat in the sub-basement.

Tristan ended his call. He walked back to the metal table.

“It is done,” Tristan announced. “The broker secured two spots on the guest list. He bypassed the retinal scan requirement for our aliases. We pick up the masks and the formal attire at a safehouse in Geneva.”

1/3

1:50 am

We walked out of the bunker. We climbed the concrete ramp. The night air hit my face. The capital city glowed in the distance, a sprawling grid of lights. The federal agents hunted us in those streets. Sterling thought he won. He thought he broke the Johnston empire.

He forgot the rule of the wild. A wounded animal is the most lethal creature in the forest.

Tristan drove the stolen SUV. We headed away from the city. We took the unpaved back roads toward the abandoned airstrip. The radio remained off. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

‘You made a blood debt,” I said. I stared out the passenger window. The dark trees blurred past.

‘I did, Tristan confirmed.

‘What did the broker ask for?”

Tristan kept his eyes on the road. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. His knuckles turned white. The muscles in his jaw decked. A muscle feathered at his temple.

‘He asked for Julian Whitmore, Tristan answered

The air left my lungs. The blood drained from my face. My hands gripped my knees.

“Julian is in a federal supermax, I said. My voice trembled. Sterling placed him under maximum security.”

“The broker wants him out,” Tristan stated. His voice sounded dead. ‘Julian owes the Swiss underground millions. The broker wants Julian delivered to a cargo port in Marseille within ten days. If we fail to break him out and deliver him, the broker sells our location to Sterling.”

I stared at the dark road ahead. The headlights cut a narrow path through the black forest.