All Chapters of The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Darren POVRestaurant: La Couronne NoireManhattan’s most exclusive and discreet fine dining sanctuary, tucked in a glass tower on 72nd. You don’t book a table here. You get summoned—if your net worth ends in 5 zeros.The maître d’ practically bowed when he saw Krystal. We were led to a private glass dining cove with a chandelier made of raw diamonds, and a view of the skyline so sharp it hurt.The chef himself came out.Chef Ludovic. Michelin-starred, French-trained, and rumored to charge 5¢ just to consult on your choice of appetizer.Krystal didn’t even open the menu.“The lobster saffron risotto, Wagyu tartare, and the truffle gougères for starters. The duck confit for him. I’ll take the seabass poached in champagne.”She glanced at me. “Unless you’re craving something else, Darren?”“Whatever you order is fine,” I replied, more stunned than hungry.She ordered a bottle of Château Cheval Blanc 1947. The entire bottle.The last time I saw that label, it was in a collector’s vault.

Suddenly, the security panel on the wall let out a pitiful beep—then went dark. The red light on the camera system died.Mr. Gaines glanced up, his expression grim. “Madam. Sir. Our security subscription has been canceled.”“Canceled?!” Norma shrieked. “Why would it—”“I received the notice early this morning,” he replied quietly. “Apparently, the payment bounced. Twice.”The wind rattled the glass. In the distance, a neighbor’s Christmas lights twinkled cheerfully. The McLaren mansion? Dead dark.Elias gripped the back of a chair, pale. “Someone’s sabotaging us.”“Who?” Ivy asked, suddenly wide-eyed.“Those Goldmans? They’ve always hated us!” MJ gasped.“Maybe it’s about the lawsuit,” Norma muttered. “Or that influencer Venice hit with her car that one time…”Venice hissed, “She walked into my parking space!”Era cried harder, “Are we going to be poor?! Like normal people?! I don’t want to shop at—at—Walmart!”“ENOUGH!” Elias thundered, slamming his fist on the table. The cereal bowl

The butler answered, of course—old Jasper, now the only remaining help in the mansion, and frankly only because I paid him under the table to stay and let the cameras run.Darren Johnson stepped in like a blade—sleek, precise, and cold. I could see Ivy practically salivate. That girl had always been delusional, never thinking beyond her next designer bag or lipstick line. Era straightened her spine and tilted her head, giving him her best damsel-in-distress pout. It was laughable. Like watching insects throw themselves at a moving car.But Darren ignored them all. Stone-faced. Perfect. My perfect legal weapon.“I’m here on behalf of the new owner of this estate,” he said calmly, his voice like a polished dagger. “The property has been foreclosed. You were notified by mail and email weeks ago. The bank has sold the estate under legal ownership transfer, and you are required to vacate the premises today.”“What?” Norma screeched, grabbing at her pearls as if they could anchor her to rea

He remembered the blood.He remembered leaving her in the kitchen, slumped and silent, after one of Norma’s “discipline dinners” had gone too far.He was sure she was dead.But now?She had vanished… and suddenly, his mansion was gone… his accounts frozen… his friends gone cold… and the name on the new deed?Krystal.Elias sat down on the dusty mattress with no sheets. One thin blanket, a flickering ceiling light, the faint smell of mildew. His family—Norma, the twins, Ivy, Venice, MJ, Era—were all crammed into the room screaming.“It’s your fault we’re here!” Norma spat at Elias.“You were supposed to be the provider!”“Well if you had paid the bills, we wouldn’t be eating cereal with cold milk!” he shot back.“The butler probably stole everything!” Ivy cried, “That old man hated me!”“You used all the heat on your hair straightener again, MJ! My skin is freezing!” Era sobbed, her unicorn clutched tight.“My bag is GONE!” Venice shrieked. “FIVE DIMES, IVY! FIVE DIMES!”“Oh, cry me a

The McLaren family had officially hit rock bottom, but their stubborn pride refused to let them admit it. In a cramped, single-room apartment with flaking paint and a leaky faucet, the once-pristine legacy of the McLarens sat hunched over greasy takeout containers they could barely afford. They no longer dined on truffle pasta or aged steak. Tonight, dinner was a shared bowl of cheap ramen and a stale half-bag of corn chips, bought from a corner convenience store after selling Ivy’s last designer handbag online.Their stomachs grumbled louder than their pride could silence, and the stress weighed on them like chains.Elias sat in the corner of the room, hunched over an old laptop he’d borrowed from a pawnshop with an IOU note. He wore a fraying, oversized polo and threadbare slacks. The shoes on his feet were once Italian leather—now cracked, peeled, and dull with age. His knuckles were white, gripping the mouse as he clicked through the cigar company's shareholder portal. His eyes, b