The Billionaire's Mistake (Anya and Daniel)

Chapter 142: Hijacking

A team of intelligence agents, led by Special Agent Derek Hawkins, swarmed into the room. Their weapons were drawn, faces set in grim determination. Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

“Edward Ricardo,” Hawkins called out, his voice ringing with authority, “you are under arrest for racketeering, conspiracy, and a host of other federal crimes. Stand up slowly and put your

hands where we can see them.”

For a moment, Ricardo considered resistance. His hand inched towards the hidden compartment on his desk where he kept a pistol. But as he looked into the hard eyes of the agents surrounding him, he knew it was useless. With a heavy sigh, he raised his hands.

“I suppose asking for my phone call would be too much to hope for?” Ricardo asked, a hint of his old arrogance creeping into his voice.

Hawkins stepped forward, roughly pulling Ricardo’s arms behind his back and securing them with handcuffs. “You’ll get your phone call, Mr. Ricardo. But right now, you’re coming with us.

Η

As the agents led the former President out of the office, out of the White House he had occupied for years, Ricardo’s mind spun. How had it all gone so wrong? Who had betrayed him? And more importantly, what moves did he have left to play?

The news of Ricardo’s arrest spread like wildfire through the capital, and beyond, Social media exploded with reactions, with hashtags trending worldwide as people struggled to come to terms with the unprecedented scandal.

#PresidentArrested

#RicardoGuilty

#TwelveGunsTakedown

In the halls of Parliament, the initial shock of the impeachment was giving way to frantic activity. Senator Claire Donovan, her face grave, addressed her colleagues.

“While we have taken the necessary step of removing Edward Ricardo from office, we should consider farther than the president,” she declared. “From the evidence at hand, we must investigate how this corruption was allowed to take root and flourish at the highest levels of our government.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber. Marcus Reeves, the opposition leader, stood to speak.

“I propose we establish a special committee,” he said, his voice firm. “One with the resources to investigate not just the former President’s activities but also any intelligence agencies that may have been complicit in aiding his criminal enterprise.”

power and

The motion was quickly seconded and put to a vote. It passed unanimously. The newly formed. Committee for Government Integrity would have broad powers to subpoena witnesses, access classified documents, and root out any remaining corruption.

As Parliament dealt with the fallout of Ricardo’s crimes, the citizens of the nation struggled to process the shocking turn of events. Online forums and social media platforms buzzed with debate and speculation.

The country was buzzing with news. It was not long before it spread aboard.

In a modest house on the outskirts of the capital, Mercy stared at the television in disbelief. The news of Ricardo’s arrest played on repeat. The entire country knew. Of all the things he thought that the Shaw family would do with the information,. They find it; this was not it.

With shaking hands, Mercy began to throw clothes into a suitcase. The fall of Ricardo meant the Twelve Guns would be scrambling to cover their tracks and eliminate loose ends. And as someone who knew far too much about the organization’s inner workings, Mercy knew she was a prime target.

The sound of the front door opening made Mercy freeze. Footsteps approached, and then Justin appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his eyes taking in the half–packed suitcase on the bed.

Th

Mercy resumed her frantic packing. “I have to leave, Justin. The Twelve Guns will be tying up loose ends. I know too much. I’m not safe here.”

Justin stepped into the room, his presence calm and steady in contrast to Mercy’s panic.” You’re already in hiding, Mercy. No one knows you’re here. This is the safest place for you right now.”

“It’s too risky,” Mercy insisted, shaking her head. “I can’t stay in one place. I need to keep moving.”

Justin watched her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he asked quietly, “Are you really comfortable running away and leaving Anya behind?”

Mercy’s hands stilled, a shirt half–folded in her grip. “Daniel can protect Anya,” she said, but her voice betrayed her.

“I know how important Anya is to you,” Justin pressed gently. “You’ve been taking care of her for so long; she’s like a sister to you. Can you really leave without explaining things to her? Without clearing up your misunderstanding?”

The shirt slipped from Mercy’s fingers, falling back into the suitcase. She sank down onto the bed, the fight draining out of her. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Justin sat down beside her, close enough to offer comfort but not touching her. “I understand you’re scared, Mercy. But running isn’t always the answer. Sometimes, the bravest thing we

can do is stay and face our problems.”

Mercy looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “You think I am running from Anya?” She asked

but

Justin nodded solemnly. “Are you not? You obviously have some misunderstandings, you do not want to see her. You are more afraid of seeing Anya than getting caught by those 22 guns,” he said.

Mercy looked away. She could not admit that he was right.

As for the president, he was, at this moment, about to be transferred to a holding cell.

Two armed guards climbed in after him, taking seats on the opposite bench. The doors slammed shut so loudly that it made Russo flinch internally. Was this really it?

As the van started to move, Edward closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

He knew they would take him to the high–security facility where he was to be held pending. further investigation and trial. His only prayer was to get to the detention facility fast. That was the safest place for him.

The younger of the two guards, a man with nervous eyes who couldn’t be more than thirty, kept glancing at Edward. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity, he blurted out, “Is it true, sir? Are you really the head of the 12 Guns?”

Edward opened his eyes, fixing the young guard with a penetrating stare. “In your experience, officer,” he said softly, “does asking such questions ever yield honest answers?”

The guard flushed and looked away. Honestly, he was not sure why he asked. The other guard, older and more seasoned, shot his colleague a warning look.

As the van wound its way through the narrow streets of Rome, Edward’s unease grew.

He knew the capital well. He was not familiar with the road they were taking. Did this lead to a facility he knew? He was getting nervous as time passed.

“This road, I don’t know it. Is it a facility I know?” Edward asked.

“We’re taking an unusual route,” he remarked casually to the older guard.

The man’s expression remained blank. “The parliament decides where you go. They are just security precautions.”

Edward nodded, but his instincts were screaming. In his world, “security precautions “often meant something far more sinister. He shifted slightly, testing the strength of his restraints. The handcuffs were secure, but not overly tight. Small wins, he thought.

Suddenly, the van swerved sharply, throwing everyone inside against the metal walls. The sound of screeching tires and blaring horns filled the air.

“What the hell?” the younger guard exclaimed, reaching for his weapon.

Before anyone could react further, an explosion rocked the vehicle. The world turned upside down as the van flipped, sliding across the pavement, sending a shower of sparks and twisted metal everywhere.

Edward’s head slammed against the bench, and for a moment, everything went dark.

When he came to some seconds later, smoke filled the interior of the van. The taste of blood was sharp in his mouth, and a deep pain in his shoulder told him he had probably dislocated it.

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