Billionaire's Bunker Novels & Stories

"Now, speaking of the bunker, I'll leave it to Lily and you guys to draw up the plans; but I want a really big bunker to house at least the following..." "A dojo for Gordan, an finance hub for Latisha, a full size cafe pantry for Nikita to manage, a battle lab for Nikolai, two offices for Jonas and Ethan, rooms for everyone of us, especially a big room for me; because I'll be moving in once it's done." The Krauser Kartel could not help but get emotional hearing Don Krauser's plan. Gratitude was etched in their faces knowing they were glad they followed Don Krauser. Jonas then chimed in, "Don Krauser, we need to disguise this bunker somehow. So, how about we build a full size garage on the su

We drove along coastal roads that clung to the edges of cliffs, past tiny towns and through tunnels of different greenery. Finally, he turned down a narrow, private road that ended at a gate. He keyed in a code, and the gates swung open to reveal a modern, low-slung villa perched on a cliffside, overlooking a secluded cove. The place seemed to be made of glass and dark wood, blending seamlessly into the jungle. "Home for the weekend," Ilay said, cutting the engine. Wow… When I get bored, I get a book or ice cream and watch a movie. When billionaires get bored, they go on planes and visit one of their many houses. I’m sure this whole weekend is going to cost the same as my paycheck for the wh

The drive to the new command post was a circuitous, paranoid route through industrial estates and forgotten service roads. The "war room" was not in the city's glittering core. Jessica had secured a decommissioned, fortified Bank of England bullion storage facility in the Docklands, a relic of a more physical era of wealth. It was a bunker of reinforced concrete and cold steel, accessible only through a series of biometric and physical locks. The air inside was still and dry, smelling of old metal and ozone from the banks of new servers lining one wall. Cho’s family was still missing. The financial haemorrhage continued, a silent, digital scream on the monitors. The board was in perpetual, p

Millions of people woke up to find their mortgages marked Paid in Full, while the world’s elite woke up to find their offshore holdings reduced to strings of meaningless zeros. But nature—and capital—abhors a vacuum. The Bunker: Location Unknown Deep beneath the streets of Geneva, in a hardened data-bunker designed to survive a nuclear winter, a different kind of light was flickering. Silas Reed was not dead. He sat in a high-backed leather chair, his face half-hidden by shadows, watching a wall of monitors. He had lost his leg in the swamp, and his father Julian had been broken in the New York vault, but Silas was a different breed. He wasn't a builder; he was a scavenger.

"Let them think they've won. Dr. Chen's little rescue operation is useful to us. Every woman she saves leads us to more targets. Every safe house she establishes gives us new hunting grounds." Derek's eyebrows rose slightly. "I don't understand." "You don't need to understand. You just need to follow orders." I walked past him into my study, where the real prizes waited. The safe behind my desk contained more than money or jewelry. Inside were hard drives containing thirty years of the Blackwater Files, Richard Blackstone's insurance policy against the powerful men he'd done business with. Senators, judges, foreign dignitaries, Fortune 500 CEOs. All of them were compromised. All of them are

He approached me in a negotiative manner “Did all of our new items catch your eyes? I'll get them delivered at your home. Please proceed in the cashier.” he said in a smile as he guide me towards the cashier I can't help but chuckle “Can you tell us your address, madam?” the manager asked—acting like a doting person I gave them the address of Aeros' house and they almost gasp seeing where it was. It was a subdivision that only rich people are able to afford. Purchasing a land to that subdivision causes half billion—the house is not yet included.

“Genetic sequencing machines. Incubators. Pharmaceutical-grade hormones.” Lucas was exploring the terrace. “Elena,” he called, his voice tight. She joined him. The terrace overlooked a hidden cove below. And there, partly concealed by artificial rockwork, was the true face of The Aerie: a low, concrete bunker built into the cliffside. Its door was heavy steel, like a bank vault. And it was slightly ajar. A soft, greenish light pulsed from within. “The power’s on,” Lucas whispered. The walk down the steep path to the bunker was the longest of Elena’s life. The hum wasn’t from the sea; it was the deep, vibrational thrum of active machinery. The steel door, when Lucas pushed it, swung open sile

He looked amused. He pressed a button on a wall intercom. His voice crackled through a speaker in the glass suite. "Ah. Mr. Monroe. I see the surface extraction team found our little 'Observer' token." Robert stared at him, his mind struggling to process the words. "Extraction team? Let us into the main bunker. I paid for this. I have the white card." Sterling chuckled, taking a slow sip of his champagne. "Oh, Robert. You misunderstood the brochure. The white card doesn't grant you access to the main bunker. The main bunker is for Vanguard executives, major shareholders, and their families. The people who built the end of the world."

The cameras record in high-resolution, had access to night vision, and audio recording. When the zombie apocalypse arrived, I wanted to watch every angle of that shameless couple's desperate struggle without missing a thing. After taking care of that, I drove straight to the countryside. In my previous life, I had heard about an underground air raid bunker halfway up a hill on the edge of the city. It had once belonged to a tycoon who had gone bankrupt. I spent a fortune to get the broker talking and signed a ten-year lease. When I pushed open the bunker's heavy titanium reinforced blast door, my heart finally settled.

It was clearly a high-level corporate call, so he stepped outside to speak in privacy. The moment the balcony door clicked shut, I stepped over to his desk, my eyes scanning the high-priority documents scattered across the wood. I had zero interest in the Valmont family's standard corporate affairs, but one specific folder caught my attention. What could be so urgent that he interrupted an interrogation? I wondered. My eyes landed on a heavy dossier stamped in red ink: BUNKER ACQUISITION — CONFIDENTIAL. It detailed the acquisition terms for a massive underground military bunker, fully equipped with an independent power grid, hydroponic bays, and blast doors designed to withstand nuclear even