Ruthless Bet Plus Novels & Stories

Or, after I eat something. * * * Heartbeats later, in the cab on her way to his cousin’s suite at the hotel, Isabella was reading the dreadful contract over and over again. ‘He warned that the document was insulting and I couldn’t agree more. In fact, calling it ‘insulting’ was an understatement.’ She felt anger build inside her with every line she read, every outrageous term, every presumptuous condition.

Authorized via Biometric Signature: Clara Volkov. My new last name stared back at me from the bleeding screen, a proof of absolute betrayal. Someone had successfully cloned my private biometric markers to override the system security, and they were using my own 50% voting rights to strip my husband of his empire before the market could even open for the day.

I wanted to see her composure shatter and I wanted her to see the world did revolve around me. “What are the stakes?” I asked, my voice coming out rasp. Alessandro didn’t hesitate. “ A hundred thousand dollars, cold, raw cash. And…” he paused, a smirk playing on his lips, “ My limited edition Ducati, the one I got last summer.” Nathan gasped. “ The Ducati? Bro you’re insane.”

The results are instant, and the headlines make my breath catch. “Adrian Blackwood: The Ruthless King of the Hospitality Industry.” “Youngest Billionaire Hotelier, Known for Taking Down Competitors with Precision.” I stare at the screen, a slow smile spreading across my lips. Maybe, just maybe, I’ve found my way out.

Cali pulled the encrypted tablet from her blazer and held it up. "I have the biometric keys," she continued, her voice a lethal, ruthless purr. "And I’ve already authorized a 20% liquidation f*e from each of your reserves. Consider it a tax for the disrespect you showed the Santoro name this morning." "You wouldn't dare," Valenti hissed, stepping forward. "I already did," Cali said, her mean eyes locking onto his. "Check your phones. The pings should be hitting your encrypted apps right about... now." A chorus of digital chirps filled the ancient temple.

I sat perfectly straight, my expression empty beneath my ugly makeup. Just then, Bertram’s mate, Irene Adebayo, tilted her chin up with a smug, superior look, her voice cutting through the clatter of bone plates like a whip. “Tell me, Rapha, does your weak little wolf understand that every rival faction in Valoria Ridge is currently taking bets on how many days it takes for Seth to make himself a widower?”

"Okay then let's bet whoever wins this game, the loser will tell one truth, the truth of life that he has never told anyone in his life." When she was taken to the room, he took her off his lap, extended his hand towards Larab and started gesturing her to make a bet. "OK, winning is always written in my destiny, so Mr. Now you start thinking what secret of your life you will tell." He also started laughing at her. "Then start...?” At Michael's urging, Larab immediately refused to distance himself. "I will go to the bathroom first, after taking a shower from there I will cool myself so that the heat of the brain is gone."

How shameless they have been! "Such a worthwhile deal, you'll higher preserve it yourself. I cannot have the funds for it." Kevin said coldly, and Paul reduce off the cellphone. The cellphone was immediately hung up. Betty became so indignant that she jumped at the ground. Her properly-maintained face turned into twisted even extra at this second. "Bastard, complain! You should have killed him back then! Look, it's your entire fault." turning her head, betty fired at will. "if it weren't for you, could someone come to compete with brent for George's own family assets now?"

Jonathan approached, placing a thick file on the desk. “Boss, this is a proposed collaboration with Vortex Automotive Group. They’re one of the top luxury car brands worldwide. They want to partner—but there’s a catch. The contract includes a betting agreement.” Alexander arched a brow, flipping open the folder. “A bet?” Jonathan nodded. “High risk, high reward. If we land it, the Group’s market value could double within a year. But if we screw up…” He trailed off. The implication was clear. “And Justin gets more ammunition,” Alexander said flatly.