The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 106: You are a dead man

The silence after the gunshot was deafening.

The guard’s blood still pooled around her boots, seeping into the floor like it belonged there. Victor stood in the center of the room, a shadow against the light, methodical and unhurried. He removed his gloves one finger at a time, the silence pressing down like a storm about to break.

Mara’s breathing was steady now.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Victor walked to the table in the corner, wiped the gun clean with a cloth, and then turned his back to her like she wasn’t even a threat.

Like she was furniture.

Like she was nothing.

"I knew you’d try something," he said eventually. His voice wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be. "That’s what Shepherds do, right? Always pushing. Always clawing for power."

Mara didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Victor turned to face her. He walked over, crouched down, eye level. His face was unreadable, a work of art carved from stone and shadows.

"You’re not leaving," he said simply. "And your brothers? They’ll cave. They’ll do whatever Philip wants. All we need is time."

Mara finally spoke.

"Funny," she murmured, "You sound scared."

That made him pause.

Just a flicker—but she saw it.

"I’m tied to a chair, covered in someone else’s blood, and you’re here... explaining yourself to me." She smiled, slow and cold. "You’re not here to intimidate me, Victor. You’re here to convince yourself this plan still works."

Victor’s jaw tightened.

"You think this is about fear?" he said, voice slipping into something sharper. "You think I care about a spoiled little girl who thinks she’s dangerous?"

"No," Mara said. "But you care about Philip. And deep down, you know he’s slipping. You know this was never supposed to go this far. Killing your own men? That’s not control. That’s panic."

Victor struck her.

A hard backhand across the cheek.

Her head snapped to the side. Blood bloomed in her mouth.

She laughed.

Low. Bitter. Unbothered.

"You just proved me right," she spat.

Victor grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "You’re going to regret that mouth."

"Not as much as you’ll regret underestimating me."

His eyes searched hers.

He didn’t speak.

And for a long, stretching moment—it was just the two of them. Breathing. Battling. Silently waging war with only their stares.

Then he let her go.

Turned away.

"You’ll stay here," he said, walking to the door. "No more talking. No more tricks."

He stepped over the body of the guard. Paused.

"And if your brothers come," he added, not even looking back, "They’ll die screaming.".

Mara exhaled, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Her cheek throbbed. Her limbs ached. But her mind? Sharper than ever. Because now she knew exactly how to get to Victor.

He was loyal.

He was ruthless.

But he wasn’t invincible.

And his weakness... was the same as Philip’s.

Control.

Break it—and they fall. The room was colder now.

Not because of the concrete walls or the draft slipping through the vents—but because of him. Victor. Leaning against the wall like a snake sunning itself before the strike.

He was watching her again.

But this time... something had changed.

"She was trembling," he said, almost casually. "So small. So soft. But still fought. Thought she could bite me and escape. You know your little assistant was quite the firecracker... for the first ten minutes."

Mara froze.

No. No—he couldn’t mean—

"Vera," she whispered, tasting bile.

Victor grinned like he’d just pulled the wings off a butterfly.

Mara’s heart thundered against her ribs. Her wrists twisted against the ropes.

"You did that to her," she said, voice shaking—not with fear, but with fury. "You were the...."

"Oh?" Victor’s eyes twinkled with mock innocence. "So she told you? Or did you piece it together yourself, smart little thing?"

Mara wanted to lunge. Claw his eyes out. Scream until the walls cracked.

But she didn’t.

She watched. Measured. Waited.

"I should’ve finished her," Victor murmured, stepping closer now. "Like I should finish you."

He leaned in, one hand reaching toward the collar of her shirt. "Unless you’ve learned to behave."

Mara stared at him. Dead center. Her voice dropped into a whisper, so quiet it cut sharper than a scream.

"If you touch me," she said, "you won’t make it out of this alive."

Victor laughed. A low, ugly thing.

"You’re tied to a chair."

"Yes," she said. "But you’re already a dead man. You just haven’t stopped breathing yet."

He paused.

And that’s when she knew—he believed her.

Not fully. Not yet. But the seed was planted. That doubt. That tiny tremor of fear she’d infected him with earlier it was back.

She leaned forward, ignoring the pain shooting through her spine.

"She told me what you did to her. And when this is over, the world will know, too. Your face. Your name. And not even Philip will protect you from what’s coming."

His face twitched.

"She’ll speak," Mara hissed. "And I will speak. And when your body’s rotting in a prison cell or a shallow grave you’ll know it was me who lit the match."

Victor raised a hand—

But stopped.

Right at her face.

Hovering.

Trembling.

Because for the first time... he wasn’t sure he could win.

Then—bang.

The sound of something or someone banging on the far door.

Raised voices.

Outside.

Victor turned his head sharply. Cursed under his breath.

"You stay quiet," he spat, backing away from her like she was made of fire.

And just like that, he was gone slamming the door behind him, locking it.

Mara sat in silence.

Shaking. Burning. But not broken.

Her wrists bled. Her cheek throbbed.

But her eyes burned with the knowledge that Victor had finally shown her who he was and that meant she could destroy him.

–

The tires screamed as Steve floored the gas.

Stefan was in the passenger seat, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the GPS pin Velaria had dropped. His heart was a war drum, and every beat echoed with Mara’s voice. Her laugh. Her stubbornness. Her trust in him to keep her safe.

And now she was gone.

Taken.

By Philip.

Not this time. "We’re five minutes out," Steve said, glancing at him. "You ready?"

Stanley chambered a round into his pistol. "I was born ready."

The car roared down the gravel road. In the back seat, Stanford loaded extra clips, and Stefan checked the drone footage thermal imaging catching movement inside a warehouse. Bodies. Heat signatures. One small figure sitting still.

Mara.

"She’s in the north wing," Stefan confirmed. "Surrounded."

"Then we break through," Valerie growled. "Straight to her. No distractions. No mercy."

–

Vera stood across the street from the warehouse in a hoodie, arms crossed, rage simmering beneath her skin like lava.

She hadn’t told anyone. Not all of it. She couldn’t.

But she’d seen the news. She knew. The second she saw that grimy alley in the background of the footage, she remembered him. Victor. The man who took everything from her.

He had Mara now. Her boss. Her new friend. Her anchor in the storm.

And she wasn’t going to wait for rescue. She was the rescue just then she saw Ethan how he managed to get there was only to his knowing.

Vera turned as Ethan jogged up beside her, out of breath, phone in hand.

"Steve and the Shepherd brothers are here."

"What are we waiting for then," Vera said quietly, eyes locked on the warehouse.

Ethan grabbed her arm. "Hey, wait. I know that look. You’re not just here to save Mara."

"No," she said. "I’m here to kill someone."

He stared at her, stunned as she told him everything but then... he nodded.

"Then I’m with you."

Ethan had seen her with Mara a few times. This version of Vera? She was carved from pain. And the man responsible... he was inside.

He didn’t care how many people they had to go through. He didn’t care about strategy or risk.

He’d follow her into hell. Because she’d already lived through it. And now? It was time to burn it down. He passed her a knife and a taser.

She checked her boot holster for the small pistol she’d stolen from Cai’s stash.

They moved as one.

Silent. Swift. Lethal.

As Vera and Ethan slipped into the back loading dock, Stefan and the others breached the east side with explosives, a flashbang lighting up the inside like a mini supernova.

Screams. Chaos. Gunfire.

Philp turned, barking orders to his men and Victor.

He hadn’t expected this.

And in that chaos... Mara smiled.

Because she knew.

She knew they were here.

And one of them... was bringing revenge. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Gunfire echoed in the hollow belly of the warehouse.

Victor stumbled backward, blood blooming from his leg like a dark flower. Vera stood over him, breath ragged, face wet with tears but her grip on the knife was steady.

"This," she hissed through clenched teeth, "is for her."

Another stab.

"And this—" she plunged the blade again "—is for me."

Victor screamed. Collapsed. Broken and begging. No more snarls. No more power. Just a pathetic mess on the floor.

But Vera wasn’t done.

Not yet.

She leaned down, her lips to his ear, whispering like death.

"You’ll rot knowing it was me who ended you."

She turned her back.

Let him bleed.

Let him crawl.