Trapped in a Secret Marriage with a Dangerous Billionaire - Chapter 62

Chapter 62: A Perfectly Executed Plan

“Olivia!” Stella’s voice wavered with panic as she rushed to her daughter, who lay sprawled on the floor, her face a ghostly shade of pale. “My precious girl!”

Attendants swarmed around, fanning Olivia as Stella cradled her head in her hands, her fingers trembling. “Someone, fetch the doctor!” she barked, a frenzied edge in her voice.

Adam had just left his study when the commotion reached him, his steps quickening as he spotted a servant hurrying past. “What’s going on?” he demanded, his tone hard.

The servant bowed her head. “It’s Miss Olivia, sir. She fainted.”

Adam’s brows knitted in concern. “Where is she? Has anyone called the doctor?”

“She’s in her room now, sir, and the doctor is on his way.”

Without another word, Adam strode toward Olivia’s room. Inside, he found Stella dabbing at the corner of her eyes, her face shadowed with anger and worry. He looked to Olivia, lying motionless on the bed, then turned to Stella with a piercing gaze. “What happened?”

Stella, regaining some of her composure, picked up the tablet and thrust it into his hands. “This,” she spat bitterly, her fingers jabbing at the screen. “This is what caused all of this!”

Adam took the tablet, skimming through the headlines and scathing words tearing down Olivia’s ‘Spraying Champagne’. After a moment, he handed it back, his face taut with irritation. “So, a little sabotage online and she faints?”

Stella’s eyes flashed with anger. “A little sabotage? Her wedding is days away, and they’re ripping her reputation to shreds! Can’t you see what a nightmare this is for her?”

Adam’s expression hardened. “And yet, this is exactly why I expected her to be stronger, more resilient. How can she break down over a few mindless bloggers? It is your job to ensure she has the backbone to handle setbacks.”

Stella’s grip tightened around the tablet, her voice a cold warning. “You want me to play my role? Fine, then I’ll do just that. Someone’s out there sabotaging my daughter, and I know exactly who’d benefit from such disgrace.”

“Stella, don’t go there.” Adam’s finger shot up, pointing in warning. “You know as well as I do it’s not what you think.”

“Don’t tell me what to believe, Adam,” she snapped, her eyes sharp with fury. “Olivia’s my daughter. I have every right to defend her, and I’ll think what I want about who’s behind this mess.”

Adam shook his head slowly. “It’s this over-protectiveness, Stella, that’s left her unable to handle even a minor setback. What if the stakes were higher? Would she die then?”

A silence hung heavy between them, tension crackling in the air. Adam finally spoke, his voice unyielding. “Tell her when she wakes: if she isn’t ready for what comes with this marriage, I’ll cancel her wedding myself.”

He turned and stormed out, leaving Stella seething with rage.

~***~

Four days later, the scandal surrounding Olivia’s “Spraying Champagne” had begun to cool, the media storm dwindling to murmurs. Yet Olivia’s recovery was largely thanks to her father’s ominous warning; the fear of her wedding being called off had snapped her out of her despair.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Aurora found herself anxiously counting down to Xander’s anticipated return. Today was the marked day, yet he was nowhere to be seen.

Unable to hold back, she looked up at Nene, who had just served her a steaming cup of tea and a slice of coconut chocolate cake for dessert. “Is your boss… always late like this?”

Nene blinked in confusion. “Late?”

“I mean… does he always experience delays in his missions?” Aurora asked, trying to sound casual.

Nene fought back a smile. “Not all the time, ma’am,” she answered, her tone light. “But he does like to keep everyone guessing.”

Meanwhile, the Xander in question was busy at the other end of the world, completing his mission.

—

The air around the abandoned warehouse was thick with the gritty stench of dust and oil, and as Xander circled the building, the early morning fog cast a ghostly glow over the neglected structure.

He crouched beside a stack of empty barrels, carefully observing as guards at each entry point exchanged nods, patrolling the premises with a well-practised routine.

Inside, he saw men moving between stacks of heavy crates marked with foreign labels—arms disguised as industrial equipment, ready to be shipped to secret buyers overseas.

After mentally mapping each access point and guard position, Xander reached for a secure burner phone. He sent Liam a precise message detailing the building’s layout, shifts, and inventory locations, instructing him to verify the operation’s intel and get back without raising suspicion. Minutes dragged by, but finally, his phone buzzed with Liam’s response.

“Confirmed,” Liam’s voice was a low murmur over the line. “Everything’s in place, including the arms cache.”

With one last look at the building, Xander tapped his contact in the National Security Agency. He uploaded encrypted details, schematics, and guard routines, sending everything from the smartphone in a flurry of precision.

He watched the screen until the message was confirmed as sent. Then, with a quick glance around, he crushed the phone under his heel, scattering the pieces across the gravel before picking up the pieces and throwing them into a nearby drain.

Before dawn, a sleek convoy of blacked-out vehicles pulled up around the warehouse in complete silence. The agents, outfitted in tactical gear, moved like shadows, securing each exit and preparing for the raid.

A crackled command over the lead agent’s earpiece initiated the breach, and with a synchronized roar, the agents burst in. The element of surprise was absolute—guards at the doors went down swiftly, while agents inside rounded up warehouse workers, who scrambled to take cover behind stacked crates.

Those who tried to run met swift justice, collapsing under well-aimed gunfire. Crates of weapons and thick wads of cash were seized, every inch of the Vanetti syndicate’s operation now under the control of the National Security Agency.

By midday, word of the raid spread like wildfire, sending shockwaves through the ranks of the Vanetti syndicate. A discreet emergency meeting was called at one of their hideouts, a private club known only to a few trusted members.

Xander arrived alongside the other men, each one glancing around nervously, unspoken tension rippling through the air.

At the head of the table sat Derek, the powerful yet temperamental figure notorious for his iron grip on the syndicate’s dealings. His face was a cold mask of fury as he reviewed the damage done to their operations.