As soon as Charles stepped out of the casino, he walked straight to the black SUV waiting by the curb. Inside, his friends Mino and Richy were already there. The moment he got in, they sped off like someone was after them.
Meanwhile back inside the secret room in the casino, Joan gave a smug smile as she looked at her phone. A small red dot was blinking—it showed exactly where Charles was. She was tracking him live.
Don Sylvester suddenly lost it. He let out a loud, angry roar that bounced off the stone walls. It was so loud and fierce that both women jumped, freezing in place.
He had stayed calm during the meeting, not wanting Charles to see any weakness. But now, his anger finally burst out.
"Both of you—kneel."
Jane and Joan dropped to their knees right away, heads down, eyes on the floor.
"Which one of you was the fool who fell for a man during a mission?" he shouted, his voice sharp and cold.
Neither of them spoke.
He gave a slight nod. The guards moved in, each holding a metal collar. They locked them around the women's necks with a loud click. Then Don pulled out a small remote and pressed a button.
A sharp burst of electricity shot through the collars.
Jane screamed first, grabbing at the metal around her neck. Joan didn't scream, but her whole body shook, and her eyes stayed shut tight. The pain felt like fire burning under their skin. Their bodies jerked, trapped in the shock.
Don didn't move. He just watched them with a cold, blank face. "I've been too soft on you two," he said quietly, but with danger in his voice. "Now because of your stupid mistake, I might lose everything."
When he finally let go of the button, both women dropped to the floor, struggling to breathe. Jane's eyes filled with tears. Joan didn't say a word—her face was tight, her fists clenched.
"I swear, Boss," Jane said, gritting her teeth. "I'll bring you Charles' head myself. We're not losing the casino. Not to him. Not to anyone."
Joan stayed quiet, staring at the floor. She didn't say a word, but her silence spoke louder than any promise. Pain showed in her eyes, but there was something deeper—something dangerous. Everyone knew she didn't talk much, but when she moved, it was deadly.
Don walked around slowly, thinking hard, eyes narrowed.
"Charles is a clever snake," he said. "And I'm planning to leave this country soon… go rule my own. But before I go, I need someone to take over the casino. Not just anyone—someone smart. Someone ruthless. Someone who can beat men like him at their own game."
He stopped and looked hard at both of them.
"And sadly… Charles has all those traits."
Joan flinched. Her body still hurt, but she couldn't keep quiet anymore.
"No, Don," she said, her voice steady. "I can run the casino for you. We don't need anyone else."
Don turned slowly, a cold smile spreading across his face.
"So another smooth-talker can charm you into losing it again?" he sneered. "Pathetic."
He walked out, leaving them on the floor.
Joan's eyes burned with anger. The pain in her body was still strong, but her rage was stronger. Her mind went back to the promise Don made her—when she helped him kill off his enemies, even her own parents. She had done it without hesitation. He had praised her for being ruthless and promised her a seat at the top. He was the only one who truly saw her darkness… and respected it.
As soon as the door closed behind Don, Joan's collar unlocked and dropped from her neck. Jane stayed on the floor, breathing hard and trying to catch her breath.
Joan slowly got to her feet. Her body hurt, but her mind was clear. She didn't say a word. She just turned and walked out.
Jane didn't try to stop her. She was too weak to speak or move.
Out on the casino floor, Joan gave a small nod to two guards—her trusted men. That was enough. They fell in behind her without saying a word.
She checked her phone, following the signal. A sly smile touched her lips. She thought back to the tiny robot—no bigger than an ant—that had crawled onto Charles' jacket after she threw the dagger. He didn't even know it was there.
The signal led them to an old five-story building. The walls were dull with peeling paint, rusty railings, and a few satellite dishes hanging out. It looked like a place where everyday people lived—taxi drivers, market sellers, and students.
Joan raised an eyebrow. Charles? Living here?
"Unless…" she whispered, "he's hiding."
She stopped outside and pointed up. "Third floor. Room 305."
The two guards didn't wait. They ran up the stairs while Joan stayed below, watching like a hunter waiting for her prey.
Then—BOOM!
A loud blast shook the building. The third floor shook hard, windows burst, and thick smoke poured out of Room 305.
Joan didn't move.
Her jaw tightened and her lips pressed into a thin line. So... Charles had spotted the tracker.
What she didn't know was that right after leaving the casino, Mino and Richy had checked Charles for bugs and found the tiny one on his jacket. They quickly left it at this building and filled the room with explosives. Charles thought Don had planted the tracker, so he sent a clear message:
Don't mess with me.
But instead, Joan got the warning.
She looked at the smoke and slowly smiled—a cold, cruel smile. She didn't even check if her men were alive. She turned around, got into her car, and drove away.
The next day, Charles and his friends sat in the open lounge of his new mansion on the edge of Monaco, in a calm seaside town called La Turbie. The house was big and modern, standing high with a clear view of the sea. It looked nothing like the old-style homes around it. It was peaceful, safe, and far enough from the city to stay out of Don Sylvester's way.
They sat on the terrace, sipping cold drinks around a glass table. The stress from last night was gone. Now, they were chatting easily and laughing now and then.
"So…" Mino said, stretching in his seat, "I haven't seen Chloe since we got back."
Charles gave him a sharp look that could turn milk sour.
Mino and Richy burst out laughing.
"Ahhh! Has your girlfriend dumped you for someone else?" Mino joked, hitting the table.
"Maybe this time she found a real billionaire," Richy added with a grin.
Charles scoffed and took a sip of his drink. "Girlfriend, my foot. That snake is probably out looking for her next victim."
"Eyaa, heartbreak is painful," Mino teased, holding his chest like he was hurt. "Do you need tissue or a therapist?"
"I can call a choir to sing a breakup song for you," Richy said with a straight face, then burst into laughter.
Charles rolled his eyes. "You both are lucky I'm not charging you rent—for staying in my house and my business."
"Business?" Mino raised an eyebrow. "You mean the trouble you keep dragging us into?"
Charles ignored him and turned to Richy. "Is the item ready?"
Richy gave a slow smile and nodded.
Richy was the brain behind all their plans. He was a mechanical and systems engineer who could build or recreate almost anything—gadgets, weapons, tools, anything. With neat hair, light skin, and square glasses that made him look like a quiet professor, he didn't talk much unless it was about machines—or if he was teasing someone.
"But what if Don finds out it's fake?" Mino asked, suddenly serious as he sat up straight.
Mino was their tech genius. He had dark skin, dreadlocks tied back in a ponytail, and always wore bright, colorful clothes. He looked more like a street artist than a hacker. But behind all the jokes and flashy style was a sharp brain that could break into almost any system.
Charles shrugged. "If Don finds out it's fake, I'll just tell him I'm keeping the real one as insurance. Just in case he tries to kill me after getting what he wants."
Mino laughed. "You've been pulling us into crazy plans since college. Don't you ever get tired?"
Charles gave him a sharp look. "You think I've forgotten how you hit me on the head with a gun at my own wedding?"
Mino grinned. "That one wasn't me, o. That was your doing. You planned it like a movie. I only followed the script you gave me!"
Charles shook his head and threw an empty Coke can at Mino. As usual, Mino reacted fast—he bounced it off his chest like a football, kicked it up with his knee, and caught it with his foot.
"Eiii!" Richy clapped. "Are you sure you didn't miss your calling as a footballer?"
"Footballer? This same guy that missed a penalty and made us lose the championship in college?" Charles said, laughing.
"It was pressure!" Mino said, raising both hands. "And it was raining that day!"
"No pressure, no rain," Richy joked. "Just vibes and failure."
They all laughed—the kind of laugh that comes from years of deep friendship, wild memories, and strong loyalty.
For a moment, all the danger that await them didn't matter. In that moment, with his friends by his side, Charles felt at peace. The storm outside could wait.