The Kingmaker Ex-Husband: Trillionaire in the Shadows

The Ruler of Three Hundred and Fifty Billion Dollars

The glass doors of the VIP lobby at The Grand Imperial Hotel were still vibrating gently behind Damian as the ten jet-black Maybachs switched off their engines in unison amidst the pouring rain. The roar of the twelve-cylinder monsters that had just stopped left a low, commanding hum echoing across the wet marble car park.

Visible through the hotel’s glass doors, dozens of curious high-profile guests began jostling their way towards the lobby area. Julian Kingsley, still wincing in pain from his sprained ankle, was being supported by Clarissa and Margaret near the reception desk. Their eyes were wide as they stared at the row of ten armoured Maybach Pullman cars with special number plates, which could only be owned by the highest-ranking leaders of the global consortium.

“W-whose convoy is that?!” whispered Tyler Caldwell, his voice faltering as he swallowed hard.

“Ten bulletproof Maybach Pullmans with gold number plates… not even Julian’s father, the head of Kingsley Capital, has the authority for such a VVIP-level escort in New Avalon!” muttered Tyler, gazing outwards with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Clarissa gazed towards the car park, her heart suddenly racing for no apparent reason. Amidst the downpour of rain reflecting the light from the cars’ headlights, the figure of Damian Cross, soaked to the skin, stood upright on the bottom step of the car park, just a few metres away from the row of luxury cars.

“Why hasn’t that man left yet? Is he deliberately standing there, looking to get run over by a convoy of important officials?!” Margaret muttered sharply, trying to hide the anxiety that had suddenly crept into her mind.

But before Margaret could finish her mutter, the passenger doors of all ten armoured cars suddenly swung open in unison.

Twenty burly men clad in black tactical bulletproof suits stepped down onto the wet tarmac. On the left breast of their suits was pinned a small silver dragon emblem that glowed under the floodlights the official symbol of Black Vanguard, the most feared private security organisation and elite force in the underworld.

Without wasting a single second, the twenty elite operatives simultaneously unfurled large black umbrellas. They immediately formed a solid two-row escort barrier to the right and left of the terrace steps, then bowed their bodies exactly ninety degrees towards the sole man standing in the centre of the courtyard: Damian Cross!

From the rear door of the lead Maybach Exelero the most luxurious of the fleet a middle-aged man with silver hair stepped out with an air of authority. The fifty-eight-year-old was wearing a bespoke suit of the finest quality from London’s Savile Row. He was Victor Vance, Chief Operating Officer and Executive CEO of Apex Sovereign Holdings, whose face frequently graced the covers of Forbes and the Wall Street Journal.

Beside Victor, a young, muscular man with eyes as sharp as an eagle’s and a thin scar on his right temple walked alongside him. The thirty-year-old man was Kaelen ‘Ghost’ Mercer, the Supreme Operational Commander of Black Vanguard and Damian’s personal head of intelligence.

Victor Vance held a long, dry and warm black cashmere coat, whilst Kaelen carried a black velvet box embroidered with gold thread in both hands. The two made their way through the curtain of rain beneath the umbrellas held by the bodyguards, then stopped exactly one step in front of Damian.

Before the gaze of dozens of conglomerates watching from behind the glass of the hotel lobby, Victor Vance and Kaelen Mercer simultaneously knelt, one knee resting on the wet marble step.

“We, Victor Vance and Commander Kaelen Mercer, welcome the return of His Majesty the Sovereign!” declared Victor in a loud voice, trembling with respect.

“Three years of disguise are now over. The Black Vanguard and the entire fleet of Apex Sovereign Holdings across five continents stand ready to receive your absolute commands!” continued Kaelen, bowing his head deeply.

Damian smiled faintly, a cold smile that radiated the authority of a true emperor. He accepted the black cashmere cloak offered by Victor, then draped it over his broad shoulders. The warmth of the pure wool cloak instantly banished the lingering chill of the rain clinging to his body.

Damian’s right hand then reached out to open the black velvet box in Kaelen’s hand. Inside the box lay two objects he had long since entrusted to him: a black platinum ring engraved with the head of a dragon with sharp fangs the Black Dragon Signet Command Ring and a jet-black card made of limitless meteorite titanium, the Obsidian Sovereign Card.

Damian took the black dragon ring and slipped it onto the index finger of his right hand. As soon as the ring settled snugly on his finger, the cold and oppressive aura that he had kept tightly suppressed for the past three years suddenly radiated out with great intensity, causing the twenty elite guards around him to hold their breath in profound awe.

“You two, stand up. It’s too cold out here tonight for a conversation,” said Damian in a calm yet authoritative tone.

“Thank you, Lord!” replied Victor and Kaelen in unison as they rose to their feet.

Kaelen deftly opened the rear door of the Maybach Exelero for Damian. Inside the soundproof cabin, upholstered in the finest Connolly leather, the scent of sandalwood and expensive cigars welcomed the ruler’s arrival. The warm atmosphere inside the luxury car felt like a world apart from the raging storm outside.

Victor Vance immediately took his seat opposite Damian, whilst Kaelen took the wheel in the front after activating the radar signal jamming system and satellite tracking jammers.

The lead Maybach glided smoothly out of the car park at The Grand Imperial Hotel, escorted by nine other armoured saloons as they cut through the wet streets of New Avalon.

Inside the speeding car, Victor Vance promptly produced a military-grade encrypted tablet and presented it to Damian with a courteous gesture.

“Sir, here is the third-quarter consolidated asset report for the entire business portfolio you established eight years ago,” Victor reported with meticulous precision.

“Apex Sovereign Holdings currently controls ninety-six subsidiaries in the fields of investment banking, renewable energy, private military defence, as well as global pharmaceutical and biotechnology patents. The total value of liquid net assets and physical gold foreign exchange reserves held under your sole name has now surpassed three hundred and fifty billion US dollars,” said Victor, detailing a staggering figure capable of shaking the economy of a developed nation.

Damian glanced briefly at the tablet screen whilst running his finger over the surface of the Black Dragon Signet Ring on his finger. The figure of three hundred and fifty billion US dollars ($350,000,000,000 USD) did not surprise him in the slightest, for from the very beginning he had been the one to devise the consortium’s entire aggressive expansion strategy before deciding to withdraw from public life for three years to care for Clarissa.

“What about the status of the guarantees and special facilities we have been providing to Caldwell Bio-Tech?” asked Damian in a flat tone.

Victor Vance took a slow breath before answering; his expression betrayed a sense of pent-up anger towards his master’s ex-wife’s family.

“In accordance with your confidential instructions three years ago, we were the sole guarantor behind all of Caldwell Bio-Tech’s achievements, Sir. The interest-free working capital loan worth fifty million US dollars that they received from the Central Bank actually came from a bailout fund provided by the Apex Banking Consortium,” explained Victor.

“The same applies to the free licence to use the Nano-Cell V7 medical formula and the contract to supply medicines to the entire network of state-run hospitals. All of that was granted on your confidential orders to Director Raymond Holt. Without your high-profile name and financial backing, Clarissa Caldwell’s small company wouldn’t even have been able to pass administrative verification at district level, let alone list on the stock exchange with a valuation of three hundred million dollars,” Victor continued firmly.

“And now, that woman, along with Julian Kingsley, actually believes that all those achievements are the result of the Kingsley family’s hard work and personal connections,” retorted Kaelen Mercer from behind the wheel, grinning coldly through the rear-view mirror.

“They really have no idea that a single word from you would be enough to wipe Caldwell Bio-Tech and Kingsley Capital off the global business map overnight,” Kaelen added.

Damian leaned back against the leather seat as he watched the raindrops sliding down the car window. His thoughts drifted to how proud Clarissa had been the previous evening when she had boasted about her company’s valuation of three hundred million dollars a figure that didn’t even come close to the monthly running costs of Damian’s private jet fleet.

“Clarissa has always felt that she is a peacock caged up because she married me. She has never realised that all this time, she is the one perched on the wing of a dragon,” Damian muttered with a cold, meaningful smile.

“That greedy Kingsley family must be hatching a plan to drain what’s left of Clarissa’s company’s cash reserves as soon as the stock market opens tomorrow morning. Let them dream a little longer,” said Damian, gazing out at the city streets lined with skyscrapers.

Shortly afterwards, the convoy of ten armoured cars glided into a dedicated underground tunnel in the Wallcrest Financial District. Before them, a colossal tower eighty-eight storeys high, clad in black sapphire glass, soared through the night sky of New Avalon. This magnificent building was the Apex Sovereign Tower, the supreme command centre of Damian Cross’s business empire.

A high-speed private lift carried Damian, Victor and Kaelen upwards without pause to the building’s top floor.

The lift doors clinked open on the eighty-eighth floor, welcoming Damian into a vast and luxurious sky penthouse. Italian black marble flooring stretched beneath a minimalist crystal chandelier, surrounded by six-metre-high panoramic glass walls offering a view of New Avalon’s glittering city lights from a height of three hundred metres.

Damian walked slowly towards the black marble desk in the corner of the room. Through the clear glass wall in front of him, he could see the silhouette of the Caldwell Bio-Tech headquarters, which appeared tiny and fragile far below.

Victor Vance stood respectfully beside the desk, awaiting his first instructions from his employer following the end of his hiatus.

Damian tapped the surface of the marble desk rhythmically with his right index finger. The sound of the tapping seemed so calm amidst the silence of the night, yet each tap was like a death knell counting down the fate of the Caldwell family.

“Victor,” called Damian without taking his eyes off the view of the city beneath his feet.

“I am ready to receive your orders, Great Lord,” replied Victor, bowing his head respectfully.

“Contact Director Raymond Holt at the Central Bank this very evening. Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp, when the stock exchange bell rings, cancel all interest subsidies and freeze the outstanding credit facilities worth fifty million US dollars in the name of Caldwell Bio-Tech,” Damian ordered in a very cold voice.

“Furthermore, instruct the Apex Bio-Labs central laboratory to lock the digital encryption code for the Nano-Cell V7 formula licence under emergency suspension status due to a change in the asset guarantor. Withdraw all our bailout funds from their guarantor’s account without leaving a single cent behind,” Damian continued, his gaze as sharp as a knife’s edge.

Victor Vance gave a faint smile as he bowed his head in full obedience.

“Your orders will be carried out to perfection and right on time, Lord. Tomorrow morning, New Avalon will witness what it feels like for a magnificent palace to collapse in an instant when its strongest foundations are pulled out,” replied Victor before turning away to immediately contact the senior banking executives.

Damian lifted the cup of hot black coffee that had been set out on his desk, sipping it slowly whilst gazing at the glittering lights of New Avalon, which stretched out beneath his dominion.

“From tomorrow morning, Clarissa… let’s see how far you and your billionaire lover can go without the shadow of my protection,” Damian muttered, a faint smirk playing on his lips in the silence of the night.