All Chapters of Fate’s Billionaire: Chapter 1
- Chapter 10
16 chapters
The Night of the Falling Car
Rain pounded the city streets like a drumbeat of doom. Lightning split the sky above the downtown skyline, illuminating the skyscrapers for a fraction of a second. Vincent Drake darted across the slick pavement, his coat flapping behind him. The neon signs reflected on the wet asphalt, casting everything in a surreal glow. He wasn’t late for work, he was late for survival.Ahead, a screech of tires made him freeze mid-step. A silver sedan, spinning out of control, careened straight toward a crowded crosswalk. Pedestrians screamed and scattered like startled birds. Instinct kicked in. Vincent didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, tackling the nearest man out of the car’s path just as the vehicle clipped the curb.Time seemed to stretch. The man tumbled onto the pavement, coughing, eyes wide in terror. The car slammed into a lamp post with a deafening crunch, shattering glass spraying across the street. Rain mixed with blood. Heart hammering, Vincent scrambled to pull the man away from th
People Who Should Have Died
Vincent did not sleep.The city outside his apartment was quiet, but his mind was not. Every time he closed his eyes, death opened them again.A woman choking in a fine-dining restaurant.A banker bleeding out on the steps of his own office.A smiling man falling from a balcony he believed was safe.Each image was sharp. Exact. Final.By 4:12 a.m., Vincent gave up on sleep and stood by the window, staring down at the street below. A delivery truck passed. He focused on the driver.Nothing.Blank.Vincent exhaled slowly. “So it’s true…”Not everyone had an ending he could see.He tested again. A woman jogging with expensive wireless earbuds. Her image snapped into place instantly—hit-and-run, three days from now, rain involved, no witnesses.Vincent stepped back like he had touched fire.The pattern was becoming clear, and he hated how fast his brain adapted to it.Power. Influence. Money.Those people had visible endings. Changeable ones.The powerless were invisible to fate or maybe
The Price of Saving Someone
The first rule Vincent learned was simple:Fate always collects its debt.He learned it before sunrise.Vincent stood on the rooftop of his apartment building, city lights flickering beneath him like dying stars. The wind cut through his jacket, sharp and cold, but he barely felt it. His eyes were locked on the street below.A black SUV idled near the curb.It had been there for twelve minutes.Too long.Vincent focused on the driver.The vision struck instantly.Gunshot. Close range. Execution style.Target: Vincent Drake.Timeframe: Today.Vincent’s jaw tightened, but his breathing stayed steady.“So that’s how we’re playing,” he muttered.He didn’t panic. Panic was for people without options.Instead, he stepped back from the edge and went downstairs slowly, casuallylike a man heading out for coffee, not one walking into an ambush.The lobby doors slid open.The SUV engine revved.Vincent didn’t look at it. He crossed the street instead, entering a crowded café filled with morning
The Man Who Sold Tomorrow
Vincent learned something important the next morning.Pain sharpened his mind.His shoulder throbbed where the bullet had passed through. He had wrapped it tight, cleaned it properly, but every movement reminded him of the night before, the child he saved, the woman who died instead.Fate never missed its payment.He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, shirt off, studying himself. His body was strong, lean, built from years of discipline he never thought he would need. He looked like a man who could take a hit.He wondered how many more he would survive.When he focused on his own reflection, the vision tried to form again.He looked away immediately.Some endings were better left unseen.His phone rang.This time, it wasn’t an unknown number.Lara Chen.Vincent hesitated for exactly one second, then answered.“You shouldn’t be calling me,” he said.“And you shouldn’t be acting like you can disappear after saving lives,” she shot back. “Where are you?”“Busy.”“Then get un-busy. So
Proof That Shouldn’t Exist
Vincent woke up knowing someone was going to die.Not because of a vision.Because the air felt wrong.The city outside his window was too quiet for a weekday morning. No horns. No shouting. No usual chaos. Silence like this meant something was being arranged.He sat up slowly, shoulder aching, and checked his phone.Three missed calls.All from Lara.Vincent exhaled and called back immediately.“Where are you?” she said the moment she answered. Her voice was tight, controlled, but barely.“Home,” Vincent replied. “Talk.”“I found something,” she said. “Something real. Documents. Transfers. Deaths that were ruled accidents but weren’t.”Vincent closed his eyes.This was the moment fate always circled back to.“Lara,” he said carefully, “whatever you found”“It ties to Darius Vell,” she cut in. “And to shell companies that don’t exist on paper but move millions. People die after the money moves.”Vincent swung his legs off the bed.“Where are you?” he asked again.A pause.“Newsroom,”
Money Changes Fate Faster Than Blood
Vincent learned the second rule before the sun came up:Power listens to money long before it listens to morality.The safe house wasn’t really safe. Just quiet. An empty short-let apartment Lara had access to through a colleague who asked too few questions. Vincent preferred it that way. Fewer names meant fewer endings.Lara slept on the couch, exhaustion finally winning. Vincent didn’t. He stood by the window again, he always did now, watching the city wake up.He focused on the skyline.Endings flared like dying stars.CEOs. Politicians. Bankers. Men and women who moved the world with signatures and phone calls.And one truth became painfully clear.The people who survived longest weren’t the bravest or the smartest.They were the richest.Vincent exhaled slowly.“Then I need money,” he said to the glass.Not someday.Now.By 9 a.m., Vincent was walking into a private bank downtown under a false name and a borrowed suit. No gun this time. Confidence was the weapon.A relationship m
Everyone Has a Price
Vincent learned the third rule the hard way:When enemies can’t break you, they shop for the people around you.He realized it at 2:17 a.m.Not from a vision.From silence.Lara hadn’t spoken in over an hour. No pacing. No typing. No nervous questions. Just quiet.Vincent sat up from the chair he hadn’t slept in and looked toward the bedroom door.Still.Too still.He stood and walked slowly, quietly, every sense alert. He didn’t reach for his gun. If this was an attack, it wouldn’t start loud.He opened the door.Lara sat on the bed, laptop open, face pale, eyes unfocused.“Someone contacted me,” she said without looking up.Vincent didn’t move.“Who?” he asked.“A man who doesn’t exist,” she replied. “No name. No face. Just… certainty.”Vincent felt the familiar cold settle in his chest.“What did he want?”Lara finally looked at him. Her eyes were wet, but steady.“To make me stop,” she said. “To walk away. To publish nothing. To forget you.”“And?” Vincent asked.“They offered me
When the City Almost Died
The visions came all at once.Not flashes. Not fragments.A flood.Vincent dropped to one knee as the world tilted violently around him. His hands slammed into the floor, breath tearing out of his chest as images stacked on top of each other, faster than his mind could separate them.Fire.Glass.Screams.Metal twisting.A train derailment.A gas explosion in a mall.A high-rise elevator failure.Same time.Different locations.Hundreds of deaths.Engineered.“Vincent!” Lara shouted, grabbing his arm.He looked up at her, eyes unfocused.“They’re doing it,” he said hoarsely. “This isn’t correction. This is punishment.”“For what?”“For me not breaking.”He forced himself to his feet, every muscle screaming as the visions continued to assault him.The first event was less than thirty minutes away.“Tell me where,” Lara said, voice tight but steady.Vincent swallowed, forcing order into chaos.“Central transit hub,” he said. “If the train goes, the others follow. It’s the keystone.”Loa
The Cost of Staying Alive
Vincent woke up to the sound of breathing.Not his.Someone else’s.Steady. Controlled. Close.He tried to move and pain flared across his ribs like fire. He hissed and stopped.“Don’t,” Lara said immediately. “You’ll undo about six miracles at once.”Vincent opened his eyes.White ceiling. Hospital lights. Machines humming softly like the world trying to pretend everything was normal.“You stayed,” he said.Lara let out a shaky laugh. “You fell three floors and blacked out on live television. Where exactly was I supposed to go?”Memory came back in fragments.The elevator.The snap.The blank space where fate should have been.“How long?” he asked.“Two days,” Lara replied. “Long enough for the city to decide you’re either a messiah or a weapon.”Vincent closed his eyes.“That bad?”“That loud,” she corrected.She turned the tablet toward him.Every channel. Every site.His face.Frozen frames of him on the tracks. Of him running into smoke. Of him falling.Headlines argued with each
The Future Calls Back
Vincent felt watched the moment he stepped outside.Not by cameras.Not by people.By probability.The city looked the same, cars moving, vendors shouting, horns blaring, but something underneath it had shifted. Like a loaded gun set gently on a table.Lara noticed it too.“You feel that?” she asked quietly as they walked.Vincent nodded. “The system is awake.”They didn’t take a car. Too predictable. They moved on foot, blending into side streets, crowds thick enough to hide fear but thin enough to run if needed.The plan was simple.Which meant it would hurt.The broadcast studio was already buzzing when they arrived.Producers whispered. Technicians avoided eye contact. Security was doubled.Vincent saw endings everywhere.A cameraman—heart attack in six years.A producer—career suicide in three days.A guard—shot, but not today.And then he saw the anchor.Her ending flickered violently.Vincent stopped walking.“What?” Lara whispered.“She’s not supposed to do this interview,” Vi