The Forgotten Heir's Payback

Chapter 15: The Retaliation Plan

The grand ballroom clapped and cheered as Lucas raised his gold glass. Smooth music played again, and waiters carried trays of fine food to the rich guests.

Chloe sat alone at the small table in the back corner, her body shaking as tear after tear fell onto her velvet dress. She looked at Lucas standing among the most powerful people in the state, knowing that she had thrown away a life of pure gold for a man lying in the mud outside.

Outside the hotel, the rain poured down hard on the dark pavement. Julian lay in a dirty puddle, his torn suit soaked in black mud. Flashbulbs from news cameras kept popping in his face. Every major television station in the city was showing his humiliating fall live on television.

A heavy black car pulled up to the curb with a loud screech of tires. The door flew open, and Richard Sterling stepped out into the storm. His face was red with pure rage, his teeth clenching so hard his jaw looked like stone. He saw his son lying on the wet floor like a beaten dog in front of all the reporters.

Richard marched over, grabbed Julian by his wet jacket collar, and hauled him up onto his feet.

"You stupid boy!" Richard roared, raising his heavy right hand and slapping Julian hard across his cheek.

The sharp slap echoed down the street. Julian head snapped to the side, and fresh blood dripped from his lip onto his dirty shirt.

"Dad!" Julian cried out, holding his burning face with his bandaged hand. "Lucas tricked us! He set a trap for me!"

"Shut your mouth!" Richard screamed, slapping him a second time across his left cheek. "You ruined everything! I sent you here to beg for our company life, and you got thrown out into the mud on live television! Our stock price is down forty percent now! Every bank in this city is closing our accounts because of your big mouth!"

Richard shoved Julian into the back seat of the car and slammed the door shut. He got in beside him, his breath coming out fast and heavy.

Julian wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes burning with pure, murderous hatred. The humiliation was too deep. His shoes were gone, his reputation was destroyed, his body was bruised, and the whole world was laughing at his name. He did not care about business laws anymore. He wanted Lucas dead.

"Dad," Julian whispered, his voice turning dark and wild. "We cannot fight him in the banks. Lucas owns the money. But he is still just one man made of flesh and bone. If he dies, his bank card loses its power, and the financial records against us disappear."

Richard turned his head slowly, looking at his son with cold, desperate eyes. "What are you saying, Julian?"

"I am going to call Black Snake," Julian spat out, his teeth grinding together. "The biggest underground boss in the eastern district. He has fifty ruthless men who do heavy jobs for cash. We give him two million dollars tonight to take Lucas out."

Richard stayed silent for five long seconds. The fear of going broke outweighed his fear of the law. He reached into his coat, pulled out a thick black memory drive containing their private slush fund codes, and slapped it into Julian hand.

"Do it fast," Richard said in a raspy voice. "Make sure that stay at home beggar does not see the sun tomorrow morning."

An hour later, Julian red car turned into a dark, smelly alley in the old industrial part of town. Rain dripped from rusted metal pipes into plastic trash bins. Julian walked up a flight of creaky wooden stairs into a dim, smoky room filled with rough men holding heavy iron bars and knives.

Sitting on a leather couch at the back of the room was Black Snake. He was a large man with a bald head, a deep knife scar across his nose, and a thick gold chain around his neck. He was rolling a shiny iron coin between his thick fingers.

Julian stepped forward, dropping the black memory drive and a heavy bag of cash onto the wooden table.

"There is two million dollars in that account, Black Snake," Julian said, his eyes filled with crazy heat. "I want Lucas Vance destroyed tonight. Break his legs, take his dragon ring, and erase every record he holds against my family."

Black Snake looked at the bag of cash, then picked up the drive. A greasy, dark smile spread across his scarred face. "Lucas Vance? The boy who just bought the Royal Crown Club? You are asking for a heavy job, young master."

"I do not care how heavy it is!" Julian yelled, slamming his good fist onto the table. "I want him dead or broken in a ditch before sunrise!"

Black Snake laughed softly, waving his hand to five tall, broad men standing in the dark corners of the room. The men picked up long iron pipes and heavy wooden clubs from the floor.

"Consider it done," Black Snake said, grinning like a shark. "My boys will catch him on his way back to his estate."

Julian grinned with deep, wicked joy, believing he had finally won the game.

However, neither Julian nor Black Snake noticed a tiny silver pin hidden inside the frame of a broken clock hanging on the wall right above the table. A small red dot on the pin blinked once every three seconds.

Three miles away, inside the quiet top floor office of Grand Dragon Financial, Lucas sat behind his mahogany desk. Butler Thomas stood beside him, holding a thin black tablet screen.

On the high definition screen, the entire meeting between Julian and Black Snake played out in crystal clear sound and picture. Every word, every dollar count, and every face was recorded in real time.

Victoria Thorne stood near the glass window, holding a glass of cold water. She looked at the screen with a sharp, mocking smile.

"Julian Sterling really is a complete fool," Victoria said softly. "He thinks hiring street thugs can stop a master dragon. Should I send twenty elite squads to crush Black Snake club right now, Young Master?"

Lucas took a slow sip of his warm tea, looking at Julian ugly face on the video screen. His expression remained completely calm and cold.

"No need, Victoria," Lucas said in a deep, steady voice. "Black Snake has been a thorn in the side of this city for five years. If we strike him in his house, he will just hide in the dark. Let his men come to me. I will cut the head off the snake myself."

"Are you going alone, Young Master?" Butler Thomas asked, his eyebrows rising slightly with concern.

Lucas stood up, buttoning his sharp suit jacket. "The trash wants to meet me in the dark. It would be rude to keep them waiting."

At midnight, a single glossy black sedan drove down a quiet, unlit street near the old docks. Deep shadows covered the narrow road, and the rain fell in heavy sheets against the streetlights.

The black car slowed down as it entered a dark alleyway between two tall, abandoned brick warehouses.

Suddenly, a loud pop rang through the air. The front tires of the black car blew out, hitting sharp metal spikes laid across the wet road. The car came to a complete stop in the middle of the dark alley.

The driver side door opened, and Lucas stepped out into the falling rain. He held no umbrella. He stood calmly beside his car, smoothing his silk tie with a relaxed hand.

From the dark corners of the abandoned warehouses, five heavy figures stepped out into the dim light. They wore black cloth masks over their faces, and each man held a heavy iron pipe that dragged against the wet stone ground, making a harsh scraping sound.

SCRATCH! SCRATCH!

The leader of the masked hitmen stepped forward, raising his heavy iron pipe with a cruel, nasty laugh.

"Lucas Vance!" the masked leader barked, his voice rough like gravel. "Your rich life ends right here in the mud! Nobody is coming to save you in this alley!"

Lucas looked at the five men surrounding him in a tight circle. He did not step back. He did not run. He simply put his right hand into his pants pocket, a cold, dangerous smile touching his lips.

"You are right," Lucas said softly, his dark eyes glowing in the shadow. "Nobody is coming to save you."