Novel & Cerita The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari

“Come in. Let’s have a cup of coffee.” “I am not stepping inside until you explain what the hell happened and how the fuck you are not dead,” Damian snapped. Richard rubbed his face. “I made some bad investments,” he admitted. “Dangerous people were after me. I had to disappear.” Damian stared at him like he had completely lost his mind. “You made some bad investments?” Damian repeated in disbelief. His laugh came out bitter. “You fucking embezzled money, got involved in illegal activities, ruined lives, and instead of manning up and fixing your mess, you ran away?”

"And Swiss vaults don't open for worms." "No," Sebastian agreed. "The Baroness controls the money. If we want to hurt her..." "We have to bankrupt the Syndicate." "How?" Sebastian smiled. He picked up a secure phone. "I know a guy." "A hacker who makes me look like a novice." "He's currently in a Japanese cyber-prison. But I think he owes me a favor." Target #3 isn't just a person. It's the Algorithm. (End of Chapter 91)

There was noise around and I really questioned Sante's decision to have poker in the middle of a busy casino. "What do you want?" Elliot finally asked looking up. I noticed the dark bags under his eyes and the unkempt state of his hair. "You really let yourself go didn't you?" I asked chuckling. "Must be hard to lose all the money you did." "Cut to the chase," Sante snapped, his eyes narrowing at me. He had a snake tattoo on the side of his neck, the sign of his mafia. "I'm looking for someone," I said doubling the bet amount.

He had received the news only an hour ago: the old Moretti mansion , Jeremi’s family house was on fire. A slow, cruel smile curved his lips as he replayed the words in his head. “A section of the Moretti estate was destroyed in a fire last night…” “Only a section,” he muttered under his breath, his voice smooth but seething. “They call that a tragedy? I call it a mild inconvenience.” He leaned back, taking a long sip from his glass before smashing it against the marble table. The sound shattered the quiet, echoing through the walls. His men flinched where they stood, but Jeremiah barely blinked. His fury, when it came, was as precise as it was dangerous.

“I won't hurt you. You have my word. Just take it as an apology for almost bumping into you” I wanted to refuse. Really, I did. But my head felt heavy. My body ached. And the thought of going home…to my stepmother…made my stomach twist. He turned and walked back to his ocean-blue BMW M5, and I followed. A man stood beside the car. He was tall and a bit huge. Greco opened the passenger door for me. The other man froze. Just for a split second. Like he'd witnessed something impossible. Then he quickly masked his emotions and slipped into the driver's seat.

the doorman who was suddenly behind me said, “Mr. Romolatti has arranged to have his car take you home.” I looked from the doorman to the chauffeur and back again. Finally, cursing under my breath I just got into the limo. This guy was too much. If he thought he could coerce me into this ridiculous scheme of his just by showing off the big bucks, he had another thing coming. Sammie Fucking Romo didn’t have one cent to his name that wasn’t dirty, and I wanted no part of that. I had the limousine driver drop me off at the garage

It is like a work of fiction, but there are truths to it. A powerful businessman double-crosses a Spanish kingpin, costing him millions. Blood is spilled, but justice is never served. I scoff, muttering under my breath. “Justice. What a fucking joke.” I scroll down, scanning the details. A deal gone wrong. Twenty-five million dollars’ worth of goods—vanished. Men slaughtered like animals. And the man responsible? Ricardo Borrelli. Of course.

someone in the crowd marveled. The kid who had just sold his car was left slack-jawed, scratching his head in disbelief. "Holy cow, is that really my old ride? It's like a rocket! Part of me wishes I hadn't sold it." "Don't play coy just because you snagged a bargain." "Any bets on who's taking home the win tonight?" "Come on, it's a no-brainer. The goddess got this in the bag. That dude's money didn't help him last time at Sunlit Heights. He's probably in for another embarrassing sprint up the mountain tonight!"

But no, he stood glued to the spot, determined not to leave. The time he had been waiting for came when a car was driven out of the compound. The patriarch of the McCorkindale's; Grandpa was seated on the back seat while his driver's gaze was focused on the road. A smirk curled up the lips of the man in the black sedan as he ignited the car, slowly trailing after the white Ferrari in front of him until they got onto the highway. On the highway, Grandpa's car moved slowly, his driver cautious of the way he drove. The man hated speed and the driver knew that.

he defended. “Your mom? Really?” Without thinking, I hit the answer and put it on speaker. “Babe!” a guy’s voice spilled out, excited and way too familiar. “What took you so long? That ass nigga Dee keeping you busy or what? I knew it. Anyway, I got the money you sent to me from his account—so yeah, I picked up the new Ferrari today. Posting it on the story in a minute. Can’t you just kill that man and take all his money already? I miss you. I don’t like the idea of sharing my man—”