The Tyrant Billionaire

"Do you have proper credentials?" the manager asked.

The team presented their documents again. The manager examined them and handed them to a security guard, who went into the television station and disappeared from view.

The team leader glared at the manager.

"Can we go in now?"

"Do you have credentials?" the manager repeated.

The team leader was dumbfounded.

This felt oddly familiar.

Was this déjà vu?

"We just gave you our credentials!" the team leader snapped.

The manager shrugged innocently. "When did you give them to me? I didn't see anything. If you don't have legal documentation, you're trespassing. Don't blame me if I call the police to have you arrested."

The team leader was fuming.

He had never encountered such unreasonable behavior.

What a shameless tactic.

Realizing that arguing was pointless, the team leader pointed at the manager and shouted, "Fine! I'll go back and get new documentation from the committee. We have plenty of papers. Let's see what you'll do next time."

"Let's go," he ordered his team as they returned to their vehicles.

The security manager watched them leave with a smirk, muttering softly, "Good luck coming back."

Turning to the dozens of security personnel surrounding him, the manager raised his voice: "Our HD Security Company is committed to protecting our clients' safety. And this is our boss's company. Stay vigilant. If anyone dares to force their way in or disrupt order, you know what to do."

"Take them down!" the security guards shouted in unison, raising their batons.

The investigation team left, intending to return to their hotel to obtain fresh documentation. However, as they drove down a street, a car suddenly swerved out and collided with them. The crash wasn't severe, but it was enough to anger the team.

They got out of their vehicle to confront the driver. But before they could, several other cars surrounded them, blocking their escape.

Dozens of men stepped out, some carrying handguns and evenTommy guns.

The investigators turned pale and raised their hands in surrender.

A minor car accident didn't warrant such an over-the-top response.

But the appearance of these men—dressed in black trench coats and hats, with hardened, menacing faces—left no doubt.

They were dealing with the mafia.

The leader of the mafia scanned the group of investigators and sneered, "Take them all."

"Wait! We're willing to compensate you!" the team leader shouted desperately.

Thud!

A heavy punch landed on his ribs, doubling him over in pain before he was hauled into a truck along with his team.

Political thugs?

At least they played politics.

But these investigators had encountered the real thing—a gang of actual thugs.

Who was Hardy?

Once a mobster, always a mobster. Over the years, Hardy had cleaned up his act, running his businesses lawfully. But many seemed to have forgotten his origins, assuming he had become a respectable man.

Hardy was no helpless screenwriter, director, or actor. His HD Security Company alone had over 10,000 personnel. His intelligence agency employed another 2,000. His Los City Company commanded 3,000 to 4,000 armed gangster directly, with tens of thousands of affiliates in the periphery.

Playing dirty?

Hardy didn't even need to bother. A handful of his gang members could dismantle any underhanded plot. Did they think he had forgotten how to kill?

Similar scenes unfolded atThe Global Timesand Hardy Group's headquarters. Every member of the investigative teams sent to these locations was captured—without exception.

With that, peace was restored.

As for McCarthy, he remained entirely unaware that his teams had vanished into thin air.

...

Off the Coast of Los Angeles.

Onboard a dilapidated cargo ship, the atmosphere was tense.

Faced with the black muzzles of guns, the captives turned pale with fear.
Stay connected via My Virtual Library Empire

"What… what are you going to do to us?"

"It's simple. You've been kidnapped," the ringleader said with a sinister smile. "We plan to extort ransom from you. Each of you will pay $20,000, or else none of you will leave here alive."

He chuckled darkly and continued, "You'll each have the chance to write a letter to your families. If they refuse to pay, well, don't take it personally—you'll be tossed into the ocean to feed the fish."

"You're committing a crime!" a young man shouted defiantly.

Bang!

Without hesitation, a bullet tore through his thigh, and the young man collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony.

"This is no joke. If anyone wants to die now, step forward, and I'll send you off," the leader said coldly.

The shot silenced everyone, instilling sheer terror.

This was the 1950s, the golden age of America's gangsters. While crime had been curbed in cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco in recent years, gang violence and murders remained a daily occurrence elsewhere.

Under duress, the captives complied, writing their letters and filling in the addresses. They were then separated and locked in cold, empty cargo holds, forced to sit on bare metal floors.

There was no food or water. Only after persistent pleading did they receive meager scraps. The days dragged on in darkness and despair.

In one of the holds, someone whispered, "I suspect these kidnappers were sent by Jon Hardy."

"No need to suspect. I'm a hundred percent sure it's his doing," another person replied. "When McCarthy went after Hardy, I feared this might happen. Hardy isn't someone you mess with. He's the type who'd send fighter jets to wipe out a gang. Look at the Italian Mafia—they wouldn't dare touch him. HD Security? That's his private army. He's also a British Governor and Japan's economic envoy. His power is staggering. McCarthy picked the wrong target."

"But wouldn't this hurt Hardy's reputation?" someone else asked nervously.

"Reputation? This is America. Even if everyone knows Hardy's behind this, there's no evidence. We were kidnapped by thugs, right? What does that have to do with Jon Hardy? He'll remain a tycoon and philanthropist."

"So… does that mean we're not going back?"

"Keep your mouth shut and wait. Maybe we'll be released. But by the time we're out, McCarthy will likely be finished, and his investigative committee disbanded."

The prediction was spot on.

---