Semua Bab BILLIONAIRE'S LIES: Bab 211 - Bab 220

The secret, she was certain, lay in the pattern of the guard's rounds—when he passed by her cell, he inevitably stopped on that farthest corner. He never gave her much attention, thinking her just another condemned prisoner with no choice. Clara was not like the others. She was waiting for this one, single chance.She reached up to the small grate above her cot, the one she had secretly loosened during the last few days. It was a tight fit, but Clara had managed to create a small opening large enough to slip through, using pieces of cloth and the thin, wiry metal she'd managed to pry loose.She drew herself up, using the makeshift rope she had prepared, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was almost there.Footsteps approached again, closer this time.Her pulse was racing. This was the moment she had been waiting for.Clara gave one final glance over her shoulder, to ensure that Dolores was still asleep. With gritted teeth, she heaved herself up thr

Her mind was already racing ahead, thinking about the next steps. The safe house was just a temporary stop, a place to regroup. She couldn't stay there forever. She needed to plan, to figure out her next move.But one thing was clear. She wouldn't be stopped. Not by anyone.The van veered hard onto a quiet dirt road and down from view, where city eyes and noise wouldn't see. Clara felt her heart ease some but didn't calm at all; it settled and hung inside, weighing against the pain. It cost a great deal to what she was to do. Clara was uncertain whether she had been ready to take that risk of its coming result. Yet, there was no backing down. She could not retreat at this point. She had gotten this far.As the van came to a stop, the man glanced over at her. “You’ve made a dangerous choice, Clara. Don’t forget that.”Clara met his gaze without flinching. “I’ve made my choice. And I’m not going to regret it.”The man sighed, opening the door to the small, dimly lit building in front of

Delacruz nodded. "We have been monitoring Clara's bank accounts and any possible activity. She has not been using her main account, but we found something else. She accessed an offshore account a few days ago. Small withdrawals, nothing large, but it's enough for her to stay off the radar."Vargas sat forward, his interest piqued. "Could she be preparing something? Something big?""Could be," Delacruz said. "We do not know what exactly she's up to, but that's enough to give me concern. We even tracked her being close to some private jet hangar."Ramos raised his eyebrows. "A jet? She's flying the country?"Possibly, Delacruz answered cautiously, "But she's smart. She could plan here, wait for the right time to make the move."Vargas stood up, the weight of their failure hanging over him. "Then we need to move fast. We can't afford to wait. Every second we lose, she gets closer to whatever it is she's planning."Ramos slammed his hand on the table. "Alright, let's pull everything we've

The ballroom continued the birthday celebration of Saben. The grand ballroom glowed with a warm golden light, casting over the laughter-filled space. The blue and silver balloons danced near the ceiling as Saben's classmates ran around the superhero-themed decorations, giggling. In the middle of it all stood Saben proudly in his blue suit, the tiny red bowtie slightly askew as he grinned up at his father.Benedict knelt down to fix it. "There. Now you're the handsomest boy in the room," he declared, tousling his son's hair.Saben chuckled at that and peeked over to Sabrina who stood by, her flowing white dress moving across the floor in a graceful elegance as she watches them with absolutely pure adoration in her eyes."You say that all the time, Dad," Saben teased. "Are you sure you're not just saying this because I'm your son?"Benedict grinned. "Absolutely not. You could walk into any room and still be the most handsome kid there."Saben raised an eyebrow in jest. "Even in a room f

Ramos squinted. He digested the picture unfolding before him. His stomach writhed in knots, but not at what he saw here. Rather, it was because of what was inside of him: a searing feeling of betrayal that churned up through his core. He trusted Morales, treated him like a brother. Now, though, his former brother stood before him—a man with blood on his conscience, guilty because he'd torn his oath of protection apart to kill another person.It was then that Ramos' voice pierced the heavy stillness, cold and impassive. "Morales," he said, as if his words carried with them the sentence of an executioner. "You are placed under arrest for having aided and abetted Clara Thompson in her escape and for concealing her whereabouts.Morales didn't blink, didn't budge. His head stayed bent forward, his eyes fixed on Clara's lifeless body as if he could resurrect her with one look. His fingers still grasped the gun, quivering as if they couldn't let go of the cold metal even in the face of inevi