THE SECRET BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 9

“It was Elira Kessington.”

Cassandra leaned forward, her finger stopped tapping and her head lifted, eyes flashed with shock.

“You mean my old time friend was the one who murdered Alex Maranzano?"

Klass nodded, eyes sharp like a bullet. “She was drunk from a night party and she crashed into Alex but It was Carl who took charge of the crime maybe because he doesn't want his wife in prison.”

Cassandra lifted a single sculpted brow “They're married?”

“Something close to divorce. Carl was betrayed by Elira .” Klass tapped on the screen again and stretched the Tab to her boss.

Cassandra collected it and watched. Displayed on the screen was the video from yesterday's birthday party at Kessings ballroom.

How Carl was humiliated in front of everyone and what Cassandra saw again made her stomach churn.

Henry.

That scumbag. Barely 24 hrs after their marriage arrangements fell apart, he had proposed to another woman, her old time friend. Elira Kessington.

And she'd discarded the man who took Blame for her crime like he was a piece of rag, accepted proposal from her ex, Henry Varnovas. Betrayal it is, glaring...but Cassandra saw something else. Elira had lost a treasure.

She leaned back again, tapping her finger on the arm rest as her mind swirled.

Klass was still tapping on her Tab, like one searching through arsenal for a dangerous weapon.

Cassandra's voice came, low and smooth with a knowing edge.

“That man,” Her finger continued to tap. "There is something about him. Something extraordinary. But I can't just nibble it.” She said, her voice dropping slightly and lips curled slightly.

Klass lifted her head, wondering why her boss was showing interest in Carl. She knew her boss well and long enough for 6 years she had been working with her. She's strictly involved with business and even when Klass heard she'd be engaged to Henry, she knew it's not going to work because she didn't see the fire in her eyes..the same fire that burns when she's in the boardroom and business gathering. But right now, looking into her eyes, what she saw wasn't fire...it was volcano... hotter than fire. Was it because of Carl?

Klass smiles small, like a soldier who has caught an enemy's hideout.

“Boss,” She called but Cassandra's voice cut in, her mind reviewing the scene at Mufi hotel.

“You really need to see how he destroyed huge men like they were mere sheets. He move like fluid. Like a mirage.” Cassandra kept confessing, a small smile tugging on her lips.

Klass lowered her Tab, staring at her boss like she'd shifted overnight. She'd never heard nor seen her talk about a man like that. What was happening? Something must have detonated in her Boss's system.

Klass smiled and stared into her Tab again as a notification popped up. She clicked on it. She's not the type that let even the smallest information pass her.

Displayed on the screen is the video Where Carl had saved Thompson Montclair.

“You need to see somebody, Boss.” She stepped closer and handed the Tab to her.

Cassandra squinted, watching the miracle Carl performed in the ambulance. Just three smart move and the man was revived. Her jaw fell slightly and eyes widened on the screen.

“God! I knew what I was saying when I said he is extraordinary!”

She gave back the Tab and stood up, her heels clicking to the door with purpose.

“Get Dr. Frankenstein on the line. This will be useful for our hospital and make sure you feed me on anything about Carl. He's a treasure. He needs to be protected!"

****

Carl had just stepped out of his small apartment, a scream far from the monumental wealth he controls secretly. His new landlord, reclined on a spring chair on the stoop with a radio on a stool beside him.

Other neighbors were outside, children hiking, since it was another weekend.

Before Carl could take another step forward, three guys, rugged looking, street guys with trousers sagged to the waist walked in through the gate.

Mr. Bobby, the landlord tensed, children hid and neighbors watched from behind curtains. These three guys are infamous for terrorizing the neighborhood, conning money and gifts from New neighbors. They call themselves land owners.

They walked to Carl. “Yo..Folk. Hand it over." One of them said.

Carl narrowed his eyes on them, observing them before he looked at the one whose arm was stretched to collect what he didn't work for. “What are you talking about and who are you guys?"

Another stepped forward. “You dumbass haven't been told? You're renting a room that belongs to us and we're here to have our bite.”

Carl scoffed and nodded gently. He understood now. He stepped forward boldly, his eyes sharp like a scintillating blade.

“I'm giving you no dime. Is this you terrorize this zone?"

“Please...give them anything.. anything.” Mr. Bobby's voice trembled, almost melting in his chair.

One of them stepped forward, his gaze menacing. “You heard him but I see you're a stubborn one and we're gonna fuck your ass right here, right now.”

Then suddenly, a roar tore through the air— dangerous and mechanical.

Everyone shifted, Mr. Bobby the landlord leaned forward, neck stretched, the children paused, head turned toward the gate.

The three guys stared in the direction of the disturbance.

Six Sleek Black cars braked off outside, pulling dust in the air.

Before the Securities stepped out, Thompson Montclair had jumped out of the car.

“Was this the place you said you saw him?" He asked a young man who had led him to Carl.

“Yes, sir. He just got to this neighborhood.”

Thompson Montclair didn't walk. He charged forward, his guards trailing behind him with perfect gaits, each one of them looked like they were carved from iron.

One of them pushed the gate open and stepped aside. Thompson Montclair walked in. Mr. Bobby rose to his feet, nearly collapsing with eyes squinted.

“Isn't that Thompson Montclair! The Oil money man. What is his doing in my yard.”