THE SECRET BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 10

SCREECHES!!

The sound of tires, not one, not two...Six fucking lavish cars, tore through the air like bullets, Chrome accents, the hoods glinting under the sun, sharp, calling quick attentions.

These are no ordinary cars and especially, it was a convoy— four Aston Martin Valkyrie flanked a Keonigsegg Jesko.

This view was spectacular and jaw dropping. People in the low–income neighborhood stopped, staring like they've seen angels dropped from heaven, phones dangled in the air, flashing lights on the rides.

What could a billionaire be doing in their Gutterline district?

Then, before the cars even stopped completely, the door of the Keonigsegg Jesko yanked open and Thompson Montclair jumped down as though the seat had long caught fire under his butt!

His suit was sharp but loose, his shoe caked in dust from endless search for the man who saved his life at Van Cleef. Groomed guards in crisp black suits swung out from the other cars, their eyes shielded with matte black sunglasses. Their permanent scowl and menacing posture could make a brave man wet his pants.

People gasped, their phone tilting down as they battled a complex mix of expressions — shock, astonishing and confusion.

“Isn't that Thompson Montclair? The man called Oil Money!”

"What a heck is he doing in our neighborhood?"

Thompson Montclair snapped his finger towards a broken and rusted gate. "Was this where you saw him?”

The man beside him, who had led him to Carl nodded frantically. “Yes, sir. He just moved here.”

Thompson didn't wait. He dashed towards the gate, his expensive shoe, the one that he'd polished to smooth shine-black with $2000 that morning, swept through the dust but he didn't care.

His bodyguard escorted him behind. Before any of them could get to the rusted gate, Thompson pushed the gate, and it opened with a sickening creak like a tired old man rising from his recliner. The sound cut across the air like blunt blade.

Thompson Montclair stepped in.

Mr. Bobby shot up from his chair, his radio nearly hitting the pavement as his leg narrowly kicked the stool.

He gasped, “What!!” eyes wide with shock. "Montclair? In my yard? This is a dream!" He blurted, his voice cracking under the absolute weight of disbelief.

Murmuring cut through the air in collective whistles. Tenants rushed out, children paused on swings, some hidden content Creators in the yard had pulled out their phones.

The three rugged looking guys who were at the brink of harassing Carl froze, spun, eyes wide with surprise, recognition fluttered in their eyes.

“Montclair!!” One blurted, his sagged rumpled jean pants hanging lower.

The one who was holding Carl released him slowly. “It's Him. The oil money man! What's he doing here? This is our chance to curry favour with him! We'll tell him we're the one protecting this neighborhood and,” His hand snapped to Carl. “And this man here, he's the thief we caught lastnight!" He said mischievously, smirking cold.

His allies nodded, their smiles wide, accepting his sly suggestion with a satisfactory smirk like fishes that found new water.

“Mr. Montclair!" Jingo, their leader who mentioned the suggestion stepped forward, bowing to his waist in front of Thompson Montclair. The others followed the threatics. Jingo straightened, his shirt wrinkled, his smile half and forced. Already, they had dragged their pants to their waist to look responsible but inside, they're rotten. “To what do we owe this visit, Sir? We're the one in charge of protecting this entire neighborhood...”

Thompson Montclair wasn't even looking at him but at Carl who watched them with an unreadable expression on his face.

Jingo continued, his voice smooth like venom wrapped in silk.

“We could've escorted you down here even without your bodyguards following you.... we're capable!”

Then, here comes the hit,

His hand snapped at Carl as he kept blurting nonsense from his rotten mouth which oozed with the stench of cheap beer and cigar. He thought he was winning Thompson over and his men were nodding, grinning foolishly like cats behind him. “We caught a thief last night and... we're just about to deal with him. That's how capable we are, Mr. Montclair.”

Thompson's expression was hard, and his gaze was cold like steel in winter, firing Jingo a glare but he was too blind with his covetous ambition to con money from the man.

He snapped. “Hit that bastard!” He instructed his men and they moved to pounce on Carl who didn't even blink.

PARR!!

A Sharp sound like blade tearing through linen resonated in the compound, starling everyone. Everyone tensed.

The men froze and spun.

Jingo, their boss was the one slapped that hard. His face drained off all colors, his lips which was earlier spewing shits, quivered like it was under the effect of electric shock. He held his face, eyes red and swollen with panic.

Thompson stepped closer to him slowly, his shoe stabbing the floor.

“If you had lay a single finger on him, I could have crushed you to the last shaft of your bone!" He hissed, venom dripping from his voice.

“Sir...he's..”

“Throw these fools outside! If they hesitate, drag their body on the floor!” Thompson commanded his bodyguard and stepped forward to Carl, his anger vanished immediately, replaced with a wide sincere smile.

“Good day...Mr...May I know your name, please.” He hummed smoothly, soft stares locked on Blake.

“Carl.” Carl simply said, watching the bodyguards dragged the three thugs out, their desperate cry cutting across.

“Mr. Carl, It's an honor to meet you. I am here to show my gratitude for saving my life..I have been battling heart attack all my life, spent millions of dollars but it was all a waste, but you didn't only save the moment, you saved my life! You gave me a second chance to live! Right from the moment you touched me, it felt like I can move a mountain..I'm stronger!"

Carl stared, lips pressed in a small smile— Not really impressed but satisfied that someone appreciated what he did. He saved Elira from outly embarrassment, went to hell— prison to save her from torment she could have faced and the name of her family that could have toppled out of her carelessness but she gratified him with lies, betrayal, and she called him a criminal!

So bad. Too bad!

But she's going to regret it, soon. She'ld know that what she'd lost was a treasure and that what she had discarded wasn't dust but gold.

Thompson Montclair stepped forward, his smile unwavering and genuine as he began counting.

“Mr. Carl, as a token of appreciation..I have prepared $100 million dollars for you in cash, two mansions in the heart of the city is a place called Glassmoor district, and two cars, Royce rolls phantom already waiting in the mansion.”

The air shifted!