The Billionaire's Mistake (Anya and Daniel)

Chapter 143: President is taken

Through the haze, he saw the two guards sprawled motionless on the floor. The younger one’s Vacant eyes stared at nothing, while the older guard groaned weakly, trying to move.

The rear doors of the van were pulled open. Dark figures appeared, only visible because of the glare of headlights and the slight flames of burning vehicles.

“Check them,” a gruff voice commanded in Italian. “Find the president.”

Immediately, rough hands seized him, dragging him out of the wreckage. Edward found himself face–to–face with a man in tactical gear, his face hidden under a mask.

“We got him,” the man said into a radio. “Package secured.”

Edward’s mind raced. This wasn’t a rescue, not one he had orchestrated. He was not stupid. IE was not safe for him outside. The safest place for him was in government custody. If this was not a rescue, this meant… “Wait,” he gasped, his voice hoarse from the smoke. “You’re making a mistake. Whatever you want, I will give it to you. Please.”

The masked man chuckled darkly. “Oh, there is nothing you can give, Mr. President. Or should I say, Don Edward?”

Edward opened his mouth to speak again, to negotiate, to threaten–anything to regain control of the situation. But before he could utter a word, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head.

The last thing Edward saw before darkness claimed him was the dark skyline of the capital, the city he had ruled both openly and from the shadows.

The Italian Parliament was in an uproar. What had begun as an emergency session to address

the fallout from President Edward Ricardo’s impeachment had devolved into barely controlled

chaos.

At the center of the storm stood Mario. She was honestly tired. Today could not get any worse.

“Colleagues, please!” She shouted, her voice barely audible above the din. “We must maintain order if we are to handle issues today!”

Suddenly, the massive doors at the rear of the chamber burst open. A visibly shaken aide rushed in, making a beeline for Mario.

The chamber fell silent as the aide whispered urgently in the Prime Minister’s ear. Many thought something bad had definitely happened. They were right.

Mario’s face, already pale from stress, turned ashen. She gripped the podium, steadying herself, before addressing the now–silent room.

“Members of the Parliament,” she began, her voice quavering slightly before finding its strength. “I have just received grave news. The transport carrying former President Ricardo to the secure holding facility was attacked en route. The President…” she paused, taking a deep breath, “has been taken.”

The silence lasted for a heartbeat before the chamber erupted once more.

“Taken? By whom?”

“Is this a rescue or a kidnapping?”

“How could our security forces let this happen?”

“It’s the 12 guns! They’re making their move to save him!”

The accusations and theories flew fast and furious.

In the VIP gallery, journalists furiously tapped at their phones and tablets, the news spreading across Italy and beyond at the speed of light. Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

In the chaos, one figure remained oddly still. Marcus Russo, the Attorney General, sat rigid in his seat, his face looking impassive.

It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

As Mario struggled to regain control of the chamber, Marcus rose from his seat. With deliberate calm, he made his way to one of the side exits.

As the door closed behind him, muffling the ongoing chaos in the chamber, Marcus allowed himself a moment of weakness. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths.

The corridor was thankfully empty; everyone’s attention focused on the drama unfolding in the main chamber. Marcus pushed himself off the wall and strode down the hallway, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

He found an empty office and private room and entered. Marcus locked the door behind him and pulled out his personal phone, one that he knew was secure from any official monitoring

His fingers hovered over the keypad for a moment before he punched in a number he knew by heart but had hoped never to use again. The phone rang once, twice, and three times. Marcus was about to hang up when a gruff voice answered.

“I figured you would call.”

“Ray,” Marcus said, his voice low and controlled “We need to talk.

“What’s this about?” Ray asked.

Marcus cut straight to the chase. “Don’t play dumb, Ray. You know exactly what this is about. Did you have the president taken?”

Another pause, longer this time. When Ray responded, his voice was innocent. Too innocent to be Rays. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, old friend. What’s happened to our esteemed former president?”

Marcus gritted his teeth, fighting to keep his composure. “Cut the crap, Ray. Ricardo’s transport was attacked less than an hour ago. He’s gone. Vanished. And we both know your Shaw family has the biggest grudge against him.

A dry chuckle came through the phone. “The biggest grudge? That’s rich coming from you Marcus. Or have you forgotten what that bastard did to your Helen?”

The name hit Marcus like a physical blow. Helen. He had hated the Shaw family for so long because of her death. He hates Ricardo even more when he realizes he had a hand in Helen’s death. But it did not mean he looked at the Shaw family any better.

“Don’t you dare speak her name,” Marcus hissed, his composure finally cracking. “This isn’t about Helen. This is about the stability of our entire nation. Whatever Ricardo’s crimes, he needs to stand trial. To answer for everything he’s done in the light of day.

e on.

“And you really think that would happen?” Ray’s voice dripped with skepticism. “Come Marcus. You know how the game is played. Ricardo would call in every favor and use every secret he’s got tucked away. He’d walk free in a year, two at most. Back to living the high life while the rest of us deal with it.”

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine building behind his eyes. “That’s not the point, Ray. We have laws for a reason. If we start taking justice into our own hands,

we’re no better than him. Than the 12 Guns…wait..what am I saying to a Mafioso?”

“Laws?” Ray spat the word like a curse. “Where were those laws when Russo ordered Helen’s death? Where were they when my new granddaughter–in–law was hunted? Face it, Marcus. The law is just a shield for men like Ricardo to hide behind. I am the last person you should preach morality to.”

The bitter truth in Ray’s words cut deep, but Marcus pushed on. “Listen to me carefully, Ray. If you have him, you need to return him. Now. Before this situation spirals completely out of control.

God”

entire parliament is in an uproar. There’s talk of mobilizing the military, for

Se very

“I’ve told you, Marcus. I don’t have Russo.” Ray’s voice had turned cold, all pretense of friendliness gone. “And even if I did, do you really think I’d hand him over? After everything he’s done?”

Marcus slammed his fist on the desk, sending papers scattering. “Damn it, Ray! This is bigger than your vendetta. Bigger than my… than Helen. If Russo disappears, if he’s killed without a trial, it’ll tear this country apart. Every criminal organization from Sicily to the Alps will be vying for power. The 12 Guns will fracture, and the bloodshed will make Italy like South

America.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When Ray spoke again, his voice was quiet, almost contemplative. “You know, Marcus, there are times when I think you don’t understand

people. Ricardo would not like to leave custody. After all, he is a walking target outside.”