All Chapters of The Ruthless Billionaire's Property : Chapter 251 - Chapter 260

CARLSON’S voice sliced through the stale air like a blade.“And after ending her life, I will end yours,” he snarled, eyes locked on Oswald as he jabbed the cold muzzle of the gun in his direction.Nathan stiffened, instinctively shifting closer, ready to take whatever might come.Carlson laughed at the gesture, a cruel sound echoing off the metal walls. He swung the gun back to the temple of the trembling girl strapped to the wheelchair.“Your thirty minutes is almost over,” he mocked, watching Oswald for any flicker of panic that never came.Nathan flicked his eyes to his wristwatch, it told him it was already five minutes left. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Beside him, Oswald stood statuesque, the storm behind his eyes the only proof he was even alive. Nathan wondered, not for the first time, how a man could be this calm when hell was breathing on his neck.Four minutes left. The second hand ticked louder than their breaths.Carlson cocked the gun. The sound cracked like

THE night air around the hidden house buzzed with tension. The masked men, the loyal, organized, and silent had cleaned up the chaos at the abandoned warehouse with ruthless efficiency. Now, inside the sprawling, dimly lit safehouse tucked deep in the city, their prisoners sat behind locked doors.Carlson, with his split lip and bloodied knuckles, glared at the walls of the small holding room where he, Stanley, Diego, and a handful of his loyal boys were confined, looking powerless for the first time in years, but that last statement was for all except Carlson. He was always nabbed in his own game.Meanwhile, down a quiet hallway, Oswald Escobar stood motionless at the edge of a modest bedroom. His shirt was half untucked, the collar torn at the seam from his tussle with Carlson. A faint smear of blood, not his obviously, had dried on the side of his jaw.His eyes, sharp yet tired, never left Nathan who lay on the single bed under warm sheets. Two nurses hovered around the injured man

THE next morning saw Queen rallying around, rushing to leave the house. Rob had called her last night and had tried telling her things but it seemed he couldn't, he was stuttering and she only got out a few words— escape and attack. Was he trying to say that he didn't do it? He didn't end that damn girl's life? Ahh! Not when she was thinking the morning was going to be a morning of victory, not when she already planned how she was gonna celebrate the victory and now this?Whatever Rob was saying though, she just hoped she would be meeting Orlanda’s lifeless body, buried six feet down below.Queen had barely caught her breath from the long drive when her heels clicked over broken pieces of flower vases scattered across the porch. She paused, eyes darting over the mess, shards glinting under the weak noon sun, dried leaves scattered everywhere, broken windowpanes that looked like they had been smashed in the middle of the night.Her heart thudded wildly. This was not the scene of a suc

NATHAN’S breathing was stronger than it had been the night before. His chest rose and fell more steadily now, a faint color returning to his cheeks where they had been ghostly pale. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, fresh bandages, and the warm scent of the early morning drifting through the parted curtains. The soft hum of a medical monitor mixed with the quiet rustle of the two nurses as they checked the IV line, while the doctor made notes by the side table.Oswald stood beside Nathan’s bed, arms folded, eyes dark but not cold, it was more thoughtful than they had ever been. Vincenzo leaned against the wall by the door, watching his cousin watch his loyal aide. In that small room, the echo of the chaos from the warehouse seemed like a ghost that clung to all of them.Nathan’s eyelids fluttered weakly. His cracked lips twitched, and with effort, he rasped, “Boss.”Oswald’s head dropped closer immediately, his brow creasing. “Easy. Don’t speak too much.”Nathan coughed lightly

OSWALD’S shoes tapped quietly along the marble corridor as he approached the locked room. The guard standing at the door straightened immediately, head lowered as he unlocked the bolt and stepped aside. Oswald stepped inside, his presence as sharp and cold as the night air that drifted through the slightly cracked windows.The room was plain but secure, thick drapes drawn aside to reveal the darkness outside, a single bulb swinging slightly above, casting long shadows across the small gathering inside. Carlson sat on one of the low couches, his elbows resting on his knees, that trademark smirk he always wore now replaced with a weary scowl. Beside him, Stanley sat stiffly, trying not to meet Oswald’s eyes, and Diego hunched in the corner, his hands folded, his eyes darting between the faces in the room like a trapped rat.The girl they had posed as Orlanda sat on a chair against the far wall. She looked nothing like Orlanda, not in spirit, not in presence, not even in her fragile, fri