The Overnight Billionaire's Revenge

Chapter 6: The Brother-in-Law’s Trap

The air inside the subterranean parking garage of the Central Luxury Plaza was cool, heavy with the scent of exhaust fumes, and cast in a dim, industrial yellow glow from overhead sodium lights. Rows of high-end sports cars and foreign luxury sedans lined the polished concrete pillars, casting long, warped shadows across the floor.

Lucas Vance walked steadily toward his waiting transport, his polished leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the concrete. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his custom charcoal overcoat, his expression completely unreadable.

Suddenly, the sharp screech of squealing tires echoed off the concrete walls from the ramp behind him.

Skrrrt!

Three matte-black utility vans surged down the ramp in tight formation, their high-beam headlights flashing blindingly bright, cutting through the dim garage. The vehicles fishtailed violently before slamming to a halt, completely blocking off the front and rear exits of the parking aisle.

The side doors of the vans flew open with a series of heavy metallic crashes.

Out poured half a dozen burly street thugs wearing leather jackets, heavy boots, and carrying thick aluminum baseball bats and steel pipes. At the front of the pack strode Ethan Vance Chloe’s arrogant younger brother. Ethan wore an expensive designer windbreaker, but his face was twisted into an ugly, sneering grimace of pure malice. In his right hand, he dragged a heavy iron pipe along the concrete, sending up a shower of violent sparks against the floor.

"Stop right there, you ungrateful piece of trash!" Ethan shouted, his voice echoing off the concrete pillars as he closed the distance.

Lucas came to a complete stop. He turned slowly, looking at Ethan and the surrounding thugs with a mild, detached curiosity, as if observing a minor annoyance blocking a scenic walking path.

Ethan marched right up to within arm's reach, panting slightly with adrenaline, his eyes bloodshot with rage. He pointed the end of the iron pipe straight at Lucas's chest.

"You really thought you could walk away from my sister, didn't you?" Ethan snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "You humiliated her at the gala. You made her cry last night. And today, you had the absolute audacity to disrespect her at the cafe and tear up her money?"

Lucas didn't flinch. He looked down at the iron pipe pressing lightly against his coat, then back up into Ethan's furious eyes. "If your sister sent you here to collect an apology, she sent the wrong messenger."

"An apology?!" Ethan let out a hysterical, barking laugh, turning to glance at the thugs behind him, who grinned maliciously. "An apology won't cut it today, Lucas! Do you know how many times I used to make you wash my sports cars by hand without paying you a single cent? Do you remember kneeling down to tie my shoelaces?"

Ethan stepped closer, jabbing the pipe forward to emphasize his point. "Today, we're going to break every bone in your legs so you spend the rest of your life crawling through the gutters where you belong. When I'm done with you, you won't even be able to beg for scraps!"

The thugs murmured in agreement, spreading out to form a tight semicircle, blocking every possible escape route. They swung their bats lazily against their palms, enjoying the helpless terror they assumed Lucas must be feeling.

Instead of showing fear, a cold, dry chuckle escaped Lucas's lips.

"You always were remarkably short-sighted, Ethan," Lucas said softly, his voice cutting cleanly through the hum of the garage. "You relied entirely on your sister's coattails, never realizing that the ground beneath your feet could vanish in a single second."

Ethan’s face contorted with fury at the calmness in Lucas's voice. "Shut your damn mouth! Break his legs! I want him crawling!"

With a savage roar, two of the nearest thugs lunged forward, raising their aluminum bats high above their heads to bring them crashing down onto Lucas's shoulders.

Lucas didn't move a muscle.

Vroooom!

The deep, roaring exhaust of high-performance engines suddenly filled the underground garage, drowning out the shouting. The air pressure shifted dramatically as four unmarked, heavy-duty black SUVs surged out from the shadows of the adjacent parking bays, moving with terrifying speed and precision.

Before the thugs could take another step, the SUVs slammed on their brakes, perfectly trapping Ethan’s group in a tactical crossfire. The doors flew open simultaneously.

Out stepped a dozen elite, black-clad tactical bodyguards wearing reinforced Kevlar vests and communications earpieces. Moving with military-grade synchronization, they didn't waste a single second on warnings.

In less than three seconds, the tables were completely inverted.

Before Ethan could even blink, the lead tactical commander swept forward, executing a flawless martial arts disarm that sent the aluminum bat flying out of the nearest thug's hands. With a sharp kick to the back of the knee, the thug was forced hard onto the concrete, his arms locked behind his back in an unyielding tactical grip.

The rest of the thugs were subdued with brutal efficiency. Within twenty seconds, all six street thugs were pinned facedown to the cold floor, groaning in pain, their weapons scattered across the oil-stained concrete.

Ethan froze, the iron pipe slipping from his trembling fingers to clatter loudly against the ground. He looked around in absolute horror, staring at the elite security detail that had materialized out of nowhere.

"What is this?!" Ethan stammered, his color draining entirely as he backed away until his spine slammed against the door of his own utility van. "Who are these people?!"

Lucas stepped forward through the ring of guards, walking at a calm, unhurried pace until he stood right in front of the terrified younger brother-in-law. The height difference wasn't massive, but the sheer, crushing weight of Lucas's presence made Ethan feel as though he were standing before an executioner.

"You wanted my legs broken, Ethan?" Lucas asked quietly, his voice like grinding ice.

Ethan’s knees buckled slightly, his arrogance evaporating into pure, unadulterated panic. "Lucas... wait! I was just joking! It was just a prank! Chloe told me to scare you, that's all! Don't"

Before Ethan could finish his plea, Lucas raised a single hand.

Two tactical guards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Ethan by his shoulders and forcing him violently down onto his knees right into a puddle of dirty engine oil.

Ethan shrieked as his expensive designer windbreaker ruined instantly, his knees scraping against the gritty concrete.

"Pick up your iron pipe," Lucas commanded coldly, looking down at the shaking young man.

Ethan stared up, tears of humiliation springing to his eyes. " I can't"

"Pick it up," Lucas repeated, his voice dropping an octave with absolute authority.

Trembling uncontrollably, Ethan reached out with shaking fingers, picking up the heavy iron pipe from the floor.

"Listen to me very carefully," Lucas said, leaning down slightly so his eyes locked directly onto Ethan's terrified gaze. "You are going to stay right here on your knees until your sister comes to pick you up. And when she arrives, you will tell her that her little games are over."

Lucas turned away, signaling to the commander. "Keep him here. Do not let him stand up until the corporate gala begins tonight."

"Understood, Sir!" the commander snapped a crisp salute.

Lucas adjusted his cuffs, walked past the line of tactical SUVs, and climbed into the back of his waiting Maybach, leaving Ethan sobbing in the dirt of the underground parking garage.