All Chapters of The Trillionaire System: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

By dawn the fog over the eastern ridge had turned the color of old bruises. Smoke lay inside it, thin and bitter, tracing where the night had gone wrong.Whisper Team had slipped in under cover of that same fog hours earlier—shadows inside a larger shadow, pulse rifles shrouded, helmets fed by Dominion’s last clean satellite link. They had expected patterns they knew: frightened militia, scattered resistance, a city still learning how to wear its courage.Instead, the ground itself had moved.Now the fog hid bodies.Far below the ridge, in a culvert where the creek choked on rubble, a woman in matte-black armor lay half-submerged, visor cracked. A fiber line looped around her boot, leading back to an innocuous box that had once powered a tram signal. It had detonated when her boot crossed it, not like a mine—louder, angrier. The blast had been calculated not to shred but to throw, hurling her into the culvert where the water swallowed her screams. The city had learned to disarm withou

Hi Everyone.I hope you are enjoying the novel Trillionaire SystemI will be taking the rest of the year off to celebrate the holiday season.Rest assured, I will be back at the new year to continue writing this book, among others.There will be more twists and turns along the way.And as always, your support, comments and feedback are always appreciated. Please leave a comment to let me know how I am doing with the story and how I can improve in the future.So until then, I wish you one and all a very blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year.Love, JDHWS

The first sign that something was wrong was not sound, but timing.Garden City had learned the rhythm of danger. Sirens had patterns. Lights had codes. Even fear, after enough nights, began to arrive on schedule. But this night broke its own rules. The wind shifted too early. The lamps along the east corridor dimmed a fraction of a second too late. Somewhere beneath the streets, a relay clicked twice when it should have clicked once.Ethan felt it before anyone spoke.He stood on the upper deck of the observatory tower, hands resting on cold metal, eyes scanning a city that looked calm only because it had practiced looking calm. The streets below were not empty. They were prepared. Doors were open but not inviting. Windows were dark but not blind. The city was awake in the way predators sleep.Alexander’s voice came through the low-band channel, clipped and precise. “We’ve got ghost traffic. Not Dominion frequencies. Not local either. They’re threading between bands.”Ethan closed his

The first thing Ethan noticed was the absence of panic.That, more than any warning siren or sudden explosion, told him something fundamental had changed.Garden City had been under threat before. It had known sieges, blackouts, hunger, and fear. In those moments, panic had always arrived first—people running, shouting, demanding answers faster than answers could exist. But now, as dawn broke with an uneasy gray light and the echoes of Whisper Team’s movements rippled through the city’s underground channels, there was none of that.Instead, there was tension. Focus. Readiness.The city was awake.Ethan stood in the operations room beneath the western tower, a place that had once been a storage hall and was now the nerve center of Garden City’s resistance. The walls were lined with maps—old paper ones layered beneath translucent digital projections. Red markers pulsed faintly, denoting confirmed Whisper Team activity. Yellow markers showed probable infiltration routes. Blue lines repre

Garden City did not sleep.It did not erupt into celebration, nor did it collapse into panic. It did not chant Ethan’s name or curse Dominion’s. Instead, it lingered in a state far more unsettling to anyone who understood power.It stayed awake.Lights remained dim but deliberate, glowing softly behind windows and beneath awnings. Streets were not empty, yet they were not crowded either—people moved with purpose, unhurried but alert. The city had learned a new posture, one that was neither defiance nor submission. It was attention.Ethan felt it in his bones.He stood alone in the Charter Hall long after the others had dispersed, his hands resting on the stone table that had once belonged to Kane’s administrators. The surface still bore faint scars—knife marks, ink burns, dents from arguments that had ended with fists instead of words. Now the table held nothing but data slates, handwritten notes, and a quiet sense of inevitability.The Trillionaire System pulsed steadily in his mind.