Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 252

Chapter 252 Stealing All Their Dirty Money

The engines of the ghost jet scream The vibration shakes the steel floor beneath my boots. We fly through the dark sky. We head back to the capital.

Every second stretches into an eternity. Sterling sent a strike team to the underground bunker. He hunted Elias. He used Marcus, our own guard, to map the target. The betrayal sits heavy in my chest. A cold, hard knot of pure terror. I cannot breathe. I cannot blink. I picture my son in that dark room.

Tristan sits across the narrow aisle. He cleans his weapons. He checks the magazines. He slides the heavy metal parts together. The sharp clicks cut through the engine noise. He prepares for a massacre. The gray in his eyes hold no mercy. He plans to kill every ntan who looks at our son.

I stare at the encrypted laptop on my knees. Ricardo maintains the connection. Lines of green code fill the black screen.

The strike team is ten minutes from the bunker,” Ricardo says. The speakers crackle. “Diego went dark. I cannot warn him. Sterling jammed the local

frequencies.”

“We are an hour away,” Tristan says. He shoves a loaded magazine into his tactical vest. His voice sounds like rusted iron. “We cannot reach them in time.”

‘We reach them from here,” I state.

I look at the master ledger on the screen. The names of the corrupt elite. Senators. Federal judges. SEC officials. The men who took bribes from my father.

The men who gave Sterling his power.

“Mina, we must send this to the press,” Ricardo urges. “We expose them. We force the authorities to intervene.”

“No,” I command. I grip the edges of the laptop. “The press asks questions. The media demands investigations. Investigations take months. We possess ten minutes. We do not use the press, We use their greed.”

“What is your command?’ Ricardo asks,

“Sterling pays his strike teams from these dark accounts,’ I explain. “The men hunting Elias are private contractors. They fight for cash. They hold zero loyalty to the badge. Sterling relies on the corrupt senators to fund his operations.”

I point to the screen.

‘Drain the accounts,” I order. All of them. The judges. The politicians. The SEC directors. Leave them with nothing. Take the Johnston billions they stole.

Take the Whitmore bribes. Wire every cent to a dead-end ghost trust.”

Tristan stops moving. He looks at me. He sees the Chairman. He sees the mother bear.

“They built a machine with money,’ I continue. “We destroy the fuel. Break the machine.”

“Initiating the siphon, Ricardo replies.

The screen shifts. A grid of progress bars appears. Each bar represents a corrupt official. Each bar shows a massive number. Millions of dollars.

The numbers begin to drop.

“Hold the line,” Sterling commands his backers. “It is a temporary glitch. I will restore the funds.”

“You lost the funds!” Judge Harrison screams. “You lost the ledger! The contractors démand payment for the bunker raid. I am not funding a blind hunt. Call off your men!

“The strike team requires authorization, Sterling argues. “They are outside the door.”

‘I cut your funding!” the judge roars. “Do not contact me again.”

The call drops.

I hold my breath. My nails dig into the plastic casing of the laptop. We wait. We listen to the dead air.

“Ricardo, Tristan says. His voice holds a lethal edge. “Check the strike team comms.”

A new audio feed replaces Sterling’s channel. Gruff, tactical voices speak in clipped codes.

“Command, this is Viper One. The wire transfer failed. The escrow account shows a zero balance.”

“Viper One, command is dark. The payment bounced. We hold no contract.”

“Pack it up, the team leader orders. “We do not breach the door for free. Fall back. Abort the mission.”