A Nobody to a Trillionaire: The $100 Trillion Vault Changed Everything-Chapter 16: Mr & Mrs Stamps

"Alright, if you want to bet on that."

The man said that, yet he was still shaking. But seeing the condescending look this bastard gave him, as though he meant nothing, he yelled...

... And pressed the knife forward.

Kieran smirked before skillfully gripping the knife mid-stab and spinning it sideways so that the man yelped when his wrist twisted as well. He cried—the knife clattered to the ground.

Then Kieran delivered a blow to his stomach that sent his back crashing against the wardrobe behind him and his butt jolting onto the ground. He didn't pass out... but, well, in a few seconds, he did.

Kieran sighed as he straightened his back, shooting a momentary glance at his bleeding palm. Jaxon didn't know how to react – either to feel scared that this dude here had beaten someone into a vegetative state with just one blow... or that he had saved their friend from rape.

In the end, he chose to react the other way. He jumped onto the bed and shook Zyn's shoulders to wake her up. "Hey! Hey! Snap out of it!"

Kieran sighed again from the biting palm pain. That was the moment he even remembered there were any other people in the room. The man's lackeys. But not so bold in the end – they were stepping forward and backward as their eyes met.

Kieran waved them off. "Get him out of here. You can go too..."

One of them stammered, more grateful than surprised, "You mean... you won't report us... anymore?"

Kieran was about to reply not yet before something kicked in. He furrowed his brows, looked back at the man and at the lackeys. After a few seconds, he replied,

"Not yet... If you can do what I say."

The men were clearly dumbstruck at that, looking at each other as if any of them had a better understanding of things here. But anyway, they knew that would at least save their asses from jail.

They both fell to their knees right away. "Yes, sir!"

***

Later on, after Kieran and his friends left the club...

Jaxon was holding Zyn on his back, who slept as though on a perfect bed, while Kieran walked sideways, holding her bag and heels. They were by the roadside, cars revving and honking in the nighttime.

Kieran said to Jaxon, who was surprisingly silent, "Are you grumpy because I left the car behind? I mean... the seat wouldn't really be enough..."

Almost immediately, Jaxon turned, his face holding a tight expression he doesn't usually put on unless he is very concerned about something.

"That's not what I am talking about, Kieran. Why would you ask those guys to work for you?" Jaxon pronounced it.

Kieran only dug his shoe's nose into the ground, speechless.

"You have seen all they could do... Everything their boss does. And above all, they told you they're a gang. What's going on with you? Trust me, I'm sure some paparazzi have videoed you back there and would soon show your ass to the public..."

Kieran cleared his throat. The moment he was about to talk, Jaxon was already moving on. He had to jog closer and say,

"Well, I'm more interested in using them now that I know they're a gang." Jaxon didn't look – maybe he doesn't want to worry himself with this anymore. Kieran continued, "Let's be honest here, Jaxon. We both know how tough it is to handle shipments and take care of those old, dangerous men in the empire. At least, we watch movies and read books..."

Jaxon cut in, his tone strong, "Yeah, I know that. But you can hire professional bodyguards and such to fight alongside you. That makes more sense than entrusting your things to thugs."

Kieran chuckled, hands slipping into his pockets. "Well, face a fire with fire, they say. Do you think surviving in the empire would require using some professional boxers who are taught the right and wrong ways to do things? No, Jaxon... the thugs are the GOAT. They don't know anything about that – they just know they must fight no matter what, even if it's through immense pain."

Seconds passed that Jaxon said nothing, and Kieran was looking other ways, though he knew this guy would soon say something. They always had something to talk about, so there had never been any awkward moments between them... But Jaxon was still quiet.

So, Kieran glanced at him with a smile. "Did you see how I beat that fucker's ass?"

He chuckled – if Jaxon had any talents, it was how to hold a laugh and disguise it as a frown. Because he finally burst into laughter. He staggered so much that he almost lost his balance, but Kieran held him still. Then Kieran himself joined in the laughter. Thanks to the cars' revs muffling their voices so that people wouldn't think they had gone mad.

Kieran thickened his voice, imitating the gang leader's words, "*Alright, if you want to bet on that.*"

Jaxon laughed again, his voice growing louder and louder.

"You did him dirty there."

***

In a mansion that seemed as though carved out of paradise's essence, the living room wide as a temple, walls made of dark bricks that diffracted the light from the overhead chandeliers... And ash couches sitting around with no one else to sit on them, but one. A woman. Dressed in a black suit, a spectacle on her eyes that read through the stack of files. She wasn't cold, nor cheeky – just the vibe of a serious businesswoman.

She heard the sound of shoes clobbering against the ground, and she looked left to see someone. Her husband, yet the greatest stranger in her life. A stranger was even an understatement – a rival.

That husband... was Mr. Stamps. The shareholder fooled by Kieran Holland with fake money, kicked out of the empire and whose shares were given to his wife. The same woman sitting on the couch just before him.

Mr. Stamps took a sip of the wine in his hand, the other hand in his pocket. He asked, "I heard you will soon be announced as a shareholder too, Mrs. Stamps. How does it feel?"

The woman looked up – years of being together at least made her learn something about this man. If he smiles, he's forcing it.

She breathed out, turning her attention back to the file. "I guess my company's performance did impress Mr. Holland, and he was generous enough to have me in. I couldn't have been luckier."

Mr. Stamps held the wine he sipped in his mouth, not swallowing. And rolled the glass itself. He held a tight expression, as though thinking deeply about something. One moment, he said quickly,

"Have you any idea whose position you are going there, shamelessly, to claim?"

The woman glanced up and shrugged. "Are you talking about the one that that wealthy man has already bought?"

Mr. Stamps chuckled wryly, sat on the couch beside him, and rested his elbows on his knees. He looked at the woman with intent. "Let's not get dramatic, Mrs. Stamps. It's an act of kindness, and if you decline the offer, he would find someone else worthier to hand the shares over to. Maybe you don't really know... Those are my SHARES! You don't think you can claim them and still... live peacefully with me, do you?" He tilted his head, chuckling again.

Mrs. Stamps rose from her seat and said, "Maybe you have forgotten, Mr. Stamps. We're divorced and you have as long as one week to leave this house. We always were strangers even when we were married, and we still are now... So, let's really not get dramatic."

And then, she walked away. Mr. Stamps breathed in and out, containing his anger before throwing the wine glass against the floor. It shattered, shards flying around.

He groaned, "Kieran Holland! You're not getting away with this! I'm going to kill you."

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