My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 129

Chapter 129: The Opening Salvo

[Ethan’s POV]

The Hotel Sacher was a monument to Viennese luxury, its lobby a sea of red velvet, crystal chandeliers, and polished marble.

I sat in a high-backed leather chair near the bar, nursing a glass of sparkling water. I had spent the last of our euros on a decent haircut and a shave at a local barber, washing the grime of Odesa off my face. I still wore the cheap canvas jacket, but I looked respectable enough not to draw the immediate attention of the hotel security.

I was watching the elevators.

Isabella Vane’s summit was the most exclusive event in Europe. The people attending weren’t just rich; they were the apex predators of the financial underworld. I needed targets who matched my build and Claire’s, and I needed their invitations.

At 8:00 PM, the elevator doors chimed open.

A man and a woman stepped out. The man was in his late twenties, built like a swimmer, wearing a bespoke tuxedo that screamed Savile Row. The woman was stunning, wearing a floor-length emerald silk gown and a diamond necklace that caught the light of the chandeliers. They moved with the arrogant, untouchable swagger of people who owned the world.

I recognized the man from the dossiers Nia had made us memorize back in DC. Julian Croft. He was a high-level hedge fund manager who specialized in laundering cartel money through European real estate. He was one of Isabella’s top earners.

I stood up, leaving my water on the table, and followed them at a discreet distance.

They walked out of the hotel and turned down a quiet, cobblestone side street, heading toward a private black car waiting at the corner.

Close the gap, Darius’s voice whispered in my mind. Strike before they know they’re in a fight.

I accelerated, my boots making no sound on the stones.

As Croft reached for the door handle of the car, I stepped up right behind him. I didn’t draw my gun. I slipped my arm around his throat, locking in a flawless rear naked choke, and dragged him backward into the shadows of a narrow alleyway.

The woman spun around, her mouth opening to scream.

I swept my leg out, catching her behind the knees. She fell backward, and I caught her before she hit the ground, pressing a pressure point on the side of her neck. Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp in my arms.

Croft was thrashing wildly, his hands clawing at my arm, but I held the choke tight. Ten seconds later, his eyes fluttered shut, and his body went slack.

I dragged them both behind a row of industrial trash bins. I worked quickly, stripping Croft of his tuxedo jacket, trousers, and shoes. I carefully removed the emerald gown from the woman, leaving them both in their undergarments. I used zip-ties from my duffel bag to bind their wrists and ankles, and taped their mouths shut. They would wake up in an hour with a massive headache and a bruised ego, but they would live.

I searched Croft’s jacket pockets. Inside, I found two heavy, gold-foil invitations embossed with the crest of the Hofburg Palace.

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