All Chapters of THE UNDERESTIMATED BILLIONAIRE TYCOON : Chapter 41
- Chapter 50
73 chapters
COUNTING THE DEAD BODIES
The explosion came through the news feed first.Blake stood in Sterling estate's command center, watching multiple screens cycle through traffic cameras and security footage. The Henderson Tunnel had been quiet for thirty seconds—the tactical team moving in, securing prisoners, celebrating victory.Then the screen went white.Pure incandescence, followed by rolling smoke. When the image cleared, the tunnel entrance had collapsed into rubble. Concrete chunks the size of sedans blocked what used to be a roadway.Emma's hand found Blake's arm, gripped tight enough to hurt."Sam was still in there," Blake said. His voice sounded distant, mechanical. "Sam and thirty-one agents."The screens multiplied. News helicopters catching the story, zooming in on devastation. Emergency vehicles converging, sirens wailing. Reporters shouting over each other, trying to make sense of chaos."—explosion of unknown origin—""—multiple casualties reported—""—tunnel completely collapsed—"Blake was moving
DESTROYING EVERYONE
The flames reached forty feet high, consuming decades of work in minutes.Blake stood behind police barricades, watching Sterling Manufacturing Plant-3 burn. Firefighters poured water from six trucks but might as well have been spitting into a volcano. The research campus and distribution center burned with equal fury across the city, three coordinated infernos Viktor had lit with surgical precision."Night shift," a fire captain said, approaching Blake with soot-blackened face. "Plant Three had twelve workers inside. We got ten out. Two are still—"He didn't need to finish. Blake saw the answer in his expression.Emma appeared beside Blake, phone pressed to her ear. "Stratton emergency response is mobilizing. Heavy equipment, medical personnel, everything we have."Blake nodded without speaking. Words felt inadequate when people were dying because of his existence.The rescue operation stretched through the night.Stratton's resources made the difference—specialized equipment that co
Viktor Volkov had to die.
Blake stared at the address written in Viktor's precise handwriting.Pier 47. Abandoned shipyard on the waterfront. The kind of location where bodies disappeared and nobody asked questions."It's a trap," Robert said. Unnecessary statement. Everyone in the room knew it."Of course it's a trap." Blake set the note down carefully. "Viktor wants me isolated. Vulnerable. Exactly where he can control the situation.""Then you can't go!" Robert's voice climbed, desperation bleeding through. "Son, please. We'll find another way. Hire private security. Bring in specialists. Something."Victoria sat in the corner, hugging herself, face still streaked with soot. "This is my fault. He used me as bait. I should've been more careful—""Stop." Blake moved to kneel beside her. "Viktor would've found a way regardless. This isn't about you. It's about him and me. Always has been."Emma paced the room like a caged predator. "We bring in military support. Special forces. Treat this like the terrorist si
A FLASHING KNIFE
Blake's brain was still catching up with his ears.Pregnant. Emma was pregnant. Six weeks, maybe. Early enough that she might not have known if stress and nausea hadn't forced her to check.A baby. His baby. Growing inside the woman he loved while he prepared to walk into a trap that would probably kill him."Why now?" The words came out hoarse. "Emma, why tell me now?""Because I couldn't let you leave without knowing." Fresh tears streamed down her face. "I was going to wait. Tell you after. If there was an after. But the thought of you dying without knowing we created something—"Blake pulled her close, buried his face in her hair. His hands found her stomach again, pressing gently like he could somehow protect what was inside through sheer will."I'm going to be a father," he whispered."Yes."The weight of that settled over him. Not burden—purpose. Crystalline and absolute. Every plan, every contingency, every tactical consideration suddenly recalibrated around one central truth.
A POOL OF BLOOD
Viktor's knife came at Blake's throat like a snake strike.Blake twisted left, felt the blade miss by centimeters, the air displacement cold against his neck. His counter-strike was too slow—Viktor had already moved, circling, looking for the next opening.Blake's side screamed where Lillian's knife had gone in weeks ago. The wound had healed but not fully, scar tissue pulling tight with every movement. He was fighting at seventy percent while Viktor operated at full capacity.Not good odds.Viktor feinted high, went low. The knife slashed across Blake's thigh, opening fabric and skin. Pain exploded up his leg but Blake didn't retreat. Couldn't. Retreat meant death.He drove forward instead, caught Viktor's knife arm, tried to break the wrist. Viktor laughed and used Blake's momentum against him, throwing him into a stack of rusted metal barrels.Blake's ribs protested on impact. Something cracked—not broke, but close. He rolled away as Viktor's boot came down where his head had been,
ENDLESS ENEMIES
Blake stood over Viktor's body, chest heaving, shoulder bleeding.Viktor wasn't completely dead yet. The shot had torn through his side, punctured something vital, but Spetsnaz training meant he was still conscious despite catastrophic damage. His eyes found Blake's, held them."You think—" Viktor coughed, blood bubbling on his lips. "—this ends it?"Blake said nothing. Just watched Viktor die."My brothers." Viktor's laugh came out wet, choking. "Will come. All of them. Six more. Worse than me. They'll hunt—" Another cough. More blood. "—hunt you. Your wife. Your child. Forever."Blake leaned down until his face was inches from Viktor's. "Let them come. I'll be waiting."Viktor's smile was terrible even through the dying. "Good. You're warrior now. Like me."His eyes went distant. Fixed on something beyond the warehouse ceiling. His final breath rattled out, then silence.Viktor Volkov was dead.Blake's legs gave out. He collapsed against the nearest wall, sliding down until he was s
BLOOD ON HIS HANDS
Emma's hands trembled as she stared at the email.Six more brothers. All knowing about the baby. All coming.She forwarded it to Sam before her brain fully processed what she was doing. Three seconds later, her phone rang."I need thirty minutes." Sam's voice was tight, controlled. "Don't delete anything. Don't respond. Let me trace this."Emma watched Blake sleep, chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of exhaustion. Part of her wanted to wake him immediately. Part of her wanted to let him have this moment of peace before the world collapsed again.The choice was taken from her when Blake's eyes opened twenty minutes later."Emma?" His voice was rough from sleep and pain. "What's wrong?"She showed him the email without speaking.Blake read it twice. His expression went from confusion to comprehension to something cold and terrible Emma had never seen before."Six brothers," he said flatly. "Viktor wasn't lying.""Sam's tracing it now."Blake pushed himself upright despite t
HE WAS WRONG
The courtroom smelled like old wood and desperation.Lillian sat at the defense table wearing prison-issued clothing that hung loose on her frame. She'd lost weight. Her hair, once perfectly styled, was pulled back in a simple ponytail. No makeup. No jewelry. She looked like a different person.Or maybe this was who she'd always been beneath the expensive veneer."The defense calls Dr. Marcus Wellington," her public defender announced.The psychiatrist took the stand, credentials impressive despite working for the state. He'd evaluated Lillian for six weeks, observed her behavior, conducted extensive interviews."In my professional opinion," Dr. Wellington testified, "Ms. Sterling suffered a complete psychotic break during the period in question. The stress of her company's collapse, combined with what she perceived as betrayal by her husband, triggered a dissociative episode. She was not in control of her actions."The prosecution's attorney stood. "Dr. Wellington, did Ms. Sterling u
I WON'T LET FEAR CONTROL ME
The psychiatric facility's common area smelled like industrial cleaner and broken dreams.Madam Mary sat in a plastic chair, staring at walls painted institutional beige. Three months into her sentence. Three months of watching everything she'd built crumble into nothing.Footsteps approached. Another inmate being escorted to the common area.Madam Mary looked up and froze.Lillian.Her daughter stood there, thinner than Madam Mary remembered, wearing the same prison-issued clothing, hair pulled back from a face that had aged years in months. Their eyes met across the room.Recognition. Then something harder.Lillian moved first, crossing the space with mechanical precision. Sat across from Madam Mary without asking permission."Mother.""Lillian." Madam Mary's voice was cold. "This is your fault. All of it. If you hadn't been so obsessed with destroying Blake—""My fault?" Lillian's laugh was sharp, brittle. "You're the one who pushed me to marry him! Who spent three years telling me
YOU THREATENED MY FAMILY
Madam Mary paced her cell like a caged animal, desperation bleeding through careful planning.Two weeks had become forty-eight hours. The pregnancy announcement had shattered whatever patience she had left. Now it was pure recklessness masquerading as strategy."Reed needs more pressure," she told Lillian during their brief common time. "Money isn't enough. He's too scared.""Then we stop offering carrots." Lillian's voice was flat, empty. "We use the stick."Madam Mary's connections—what few she could still access through coded messages and smuggled notes—had done their work. Marcus Reed had secrets. His sister was involved in prescription fraud. His ex-wife had falsified custody documents. Small crimes, but enough to destroy what remained of his life.The blackmail was delivered through a note slipped under Reed's locker door.Help us escape or we expose your family. You have 48 hours. —MReed found Madam Mary the next day, face pale, hands trembling. "You can't do this. My sister d