A Nobody to a Trillionaire: The $100 Trillion Vault Changed Everything-Chapter 19: A Predictable Move

A few hours ago, Kieran had told Amanda about his choice to recruit the thugs as his new secret bodyguards. There were already professional bodyguards, but these ones were for underground, if possible, deadly tasks.

No one expected this to happen – a sudden attack, but well... they did in some way. If not, they wouldn't have asked the thugs to stall around the stadium in the first place. And they wouldn't have had another plan laid down.

How predictable the one who planned this abduction was – Kieran thought, his body shifting here and there like a pendulum as the van suddenly climbed a rough-sloped surface. freeweɓnovel.cøm

That was when he looked through the window. He could see nothing more than rough land and a stretch of water ahead. By the way the van was parked close to a wooden platform that stretched just some distance into the river, braziers positioned atop it, Kieran had a clear inkling of what they planned to do with him.

Two things – drown alive or burn.... One of the men suddenly yanked the door open and grabbed Kieran out. He should have crashed to the ground with how he was thrown, but Kieran was still standing, smiling as the men looked at him in wonder.

The chubby-faced one mumbled, "What's with this dude?"

Anyway, they grabbed Kieran by his shoulders, pushed him onto the platform, and pinned him to his knees just close to the edge.

Kieran panted lightly. "Are we going to wait here for decades? Or... you're hesitating because the one who gave you this job isn't here—"

Before he could finish asking the question, the lean man's fist came hitting against his cheek that sent beads of blood out. He warned in a tight voice, stop running that damned mouth of yours.

Kieran licked the blood off his lips and smiled as much as he could. Soon, the guys left him alone there and went back near the van, just standing. They were definitely waiting for someone.

In a moment, Kieran whispered, "Forward my message to Amanda, Monz," and his smartwatch flashed up, about to process his order. "Execute plan B now."

Done, Mr. Holland.

Plan B, the complementary move of Plan A, which was for the thugs to stall around the stadium.

Meanwhile, inside a revving black Benz filled with Alan Martinez's bodyguards, Amanda's phone beeped with a message. She checked it, a flicker of worry and concern in her eyes. Right afterward, she called Gang Leader.

She could hear clattering sounds and painful moans when the man picked up the call. They all must have gotten so badly injured – Amanda thought before ordering in a mechanical tone.

"Your work there is done. Evacuate the stadium."

The rapist whimpered in pain before saying, "Ok..."

But right then, Amanda heard a sound as though someone had hit the ground really hard, and next was the rapist crying...

"You fucking SOB! Why did you have to hit my eye? Huh?!"

Amanda didn't wait before pressing the disconnect button and headed on to call 999. The police. After stating who she was, she told them she had a report to make and she would forward the address. Getting done, she launched back to a tracker app – one which showed a location... Skybridge Port.

Right this morning when she was done giving orders to the newly recruited thugs, she gave her boss a bug too. One she had connected to the tracker app, with the sense that if something bad happened at the stadium – as it had, now – she could easily know where he was.

'Oh, no! Are they planning to drown him?' Amanda worried before forwarding the address to the police.

***

Back at the port, the air was chilly. Kieran had just been kneeling there for ages now, with no one appearing or even the guys doing anything... until one moment.

Kieran heard the distant rev of a car and looked back, same as the two thugs. It was a red McLaren. Hell no... Kieran recognized it right away.

'It was in the parking lot too. Is that... perhaps, Stamps?'

And yes, it was. Mr. Stamps stepped out of the car after he pulled over. Kieran wasn't upset – he grinned because he was actually expecting it to be him.

A scapegoat again, then.

Mr. Stamps grinned too as he walked across the wooden platform, using that moment to put on a black glove.

Kieran teased, "It's only when you don't want your DNA to be used in a murder case that you put on a glove. Or... don't tell me, you really are going to kill me?"

Mr. Stamps chuckled, grabbing a burn-edged club from the rusted brazier. "Who knows? You might be able to throw punches with those... tied hands, and free yourself from death." He squatted before Kieran, looking deeply into his eyes, "You used to be a boxer, weren't you, Mr. Holland?"

Kieran looked at him with a tight expression for a moment before smirking. "Tch... does that title normally fit in the mouths of worthless animals?"

He could see the immediate reaction – the rage, the resentment. Nonetheless, Kieran rose to his feet, though his arms were still tied.

He stared down at Mr. Stamps, who clenched the club in his hand, "You know... I heard this from somewhere not that long ago. That everything and everyone remains in their original selves no matter how they try to change themselves.

Same goes for you, Mr. Stamps... You're still that predictable, easy-to-manipulate man. Wasn't expecting you to act up this quick, but I guess you're still who you are. A dog that comes at the sight of..."

Mr. Stamps glared up at him.

"... bones!" Kieran pronounced with more rage-baiting than with anger.

Mr. Stamps smirked. "You worthless piece of shit!"

In a moment, he turned up and lunged the club toward Kieran. But he stepped back, avoiding the attack. The man chuckled wryly again, gripping the club tighter and dropping his shoulders into a boxer's stance.

"You're some tough bastard, aren't you?"

Then he lunged again. This time, he feinted to the left, a fake attack that Kieran went for to block. But when he had done that, did he realize his mistake. It was too late as Mr. Stamps changed his active hand and slammed the club into his other side.

Kieran gasped as the pain shot in, dropping to his knees. He shut his eyes tightly, his side as though it was paralyzed.

Mr. Stamps stepped closer, chuckling with rage and loosening his tie. He said, "You know what, bastard? It angers me when those lacking skills or whatever just get so lucky and start acting as though they're better than the skilled ones. And... when fucking cowards try to play the strong guy."

He raised the club higher, a leg drawing backward. Before anything else, he told Kieran with a smile,

"Try blocking this if you truly are a boxer. If those medals displayed by that bitch aren't fake."

---

A/N: Thank you, David Howe, for the power stones! I will use them well!

Please vote with golden tickets and power stones. Thanks for reading!