The Final Gambit Audiobook Novels & Stories

ARIA. The television bathed the room in a sterile glow, every headline slicing across the screen like a blade. None of us spoke. None of us needed to. We sat in silence, watching Oliver Rothchild’s kingdom burn to ash. The Rothchilds had tried to smother the story, the way they smothered everything that threatened to stain their pristine name. Money, favors, and threats had always been their weapons. But not this time. Gambit’s file had been a kill shot, and she had pulled the trigger by putting it in the right hands.

"Let me burn it for you, so you can stop dreaming about money that never existed." One by one, I tossed in his military manuals, letters, and then his clothes into the fire. The flames caught and climbed. Josh instinctively stepped forward to stop me, but hesitated—his face turning pitch-black—as he forced himself to stay still. Finally, I picked up the gifts he'd given me over the years and tossed them into the heart of the fire. "Riley!" he burst out, a strangled sound. "Those were from Josh! How could you?"

"Don't worry. I've already switched the eggs with yours. So, Candice will be carrying our child, and you won't have to suffer through a pregnancy. When the child grows up, all the Summers fortune will be his!" Then came my conversation with the doctor. "Ms. Summers, we caught Mr. Yeager on camera switching your eggs with Ms. Rogers'." My voice replied firmly, "Switch them back and replace Zayn's sperm with a premium donor's." The livestream chat exploded with comments. [Talk about karma! The gold digger tried to steal Ms. Summers' fortune, but she was ten steps ahead!] [Now, that's a boss lady!] [But who's Professor Summers' real father?]

I nodded, my throat tight with both fear and victory. The phone was cheap, disposable, but to me it was priceless. I sank onto the bed, fingers flying over the screen. I couldn’t risk plain words. King’s men would read everything. So I wrote in code. A story only Liam would know. I reminded him of that night on his balcony, when I told him about the old chess set my mother gave me, and how he taught me that the queen was the most dangerous piece on the board because no one expected her to move so freely. He called it the Queen’s Gambit.

Hunter growled, gripping the phone tightly. “This wouldn’t be much of a game if you got all your cards right away, now would it? I’m not done playing, Alpha. You have to finish the game. Or else—boom! You and your precious little princess go up in flames,” the man said, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “Oh, and because I’m feeling generous, here’s a bonus: the bomb on the table? Just a decoy. But the other bombs in the building? They’re very real and will go off in less than five minutes. Tick-tock, Alpha. Better get moving.” His laugh echoed cruelly before the line went dead.

She had dyed her hair a darker shade, clipped it short, and wore clothes too plain for someone who once thrived on luxury. But her eyes still held that familiar sharpness—cold, intelligent, restless. Her burner phone vibrated on the table. She reached for it, expecting a call but instead found a message. Just two words. 'Plan C.' She froze. Then a slow smile curled at the edge of her lips, something feral and dangerous. “So,” she whispered to the empty room, “it’s time.” She tossed the phone onto the bed and stood, her pulse steadying, her posture straightening. The game had entered its last stage.

That's what a gambler does. "And I don't like to gamble. I never put the person I care about on the table." As his words ended, applause broke out. One by one, industry guests rose to their feet. Even the women who once whispered about me at the alumni gala looked down in shame. Edward stood pale and trembling, still being held in place. His glare, however, was full of fury. I looked up at Nathan. He bent toward me and whispered, "You don't have to say a thing today. I'll speak for you."

Business being what it was, I ran into my old boss, Jett Parker. Caden was on fire, snagging deals right from Jett's grasp. Jett was ticked off and started aiming for our little startup. To cool things down, I had to play peacemaker. Jett had one condition. He pointed to a bottle and said, "Down this, and I'll back off." We were the underdog to his giant—no contest. Caden's dream was on the line, and I was not about to watch it crumble. So, I downed that bottle.

Isaiah handed over the keys like he was used to it. I followed carefully as he entered a private room. Through the partially open door, I saw several young men dressed in sharp suits. They looked like the typical rich heirs you would see in tabloids. Pretending to be on a phone call, I loitered in the hallway near the room. From where I stood, I could see the table piled with dishes like lobster, king crab, and caviar—things I would only ever see on cooking shows. "Isaiah, seeing you in those cheap clothes cracks me up. You're the heir to billions, for crying out loud!"

He could only let out muffled sounds. After that, I knocked him out once again. At the same time, I heard many screams of agony. I just closed my eyes to tune them out. Those young and beautiful blind masseuses dreamed of making a ton of money when they boarded the cruise. But they would never be able to leave the cruise with the money. Finally, the sounds died down at night. I clutched the keycard that I had found in the gray-suited man's pocket as I opened a small gap in the door.