The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 494

Chapter 223: Retirement Plan

“Turn around,” Bill spat, his voice trembling with a cocktail of rage and adrenaline “Follow that woman, and make sure you keep a distance-don’t let her see us!

The driver’s hands tightened on the leather steering wheel. “Sir, I-I’m not sure that’s a goc idea. Those men earlier said-”

“I said turn the car around!” Bill roared, his fist slamming against the back of the driver’s s “Don’t forget who’s signing your paycheck!”

The driver swallowed hard, “Yes, sir.” He glanced at the rearview mirror before swinging the wheel.

Just as the sedan began to pivot, a flash of movement in the mirror caught his eye-two matte-black SUVS had peeled out from the curb behind them. The driver’s face drained of color. “Sir… I… I think we’re being followed.”

Bill squinted, his voice sharp with irritation. “What are you talking about?!”

The driver pointed a trembling finger at the mirror. “Those cars… Aren’t those Mr. Blackwood men?”

Bill whipped around, peering through the rear window. The SUVs weren’t just following, they were stalking, maintaining a distance that spoke of absolute intention.

“Shit!” Bill hissed, his blood turning to ice. He realized in a heartbeat that Damien Blackwood would not let him go that easily. The man was making sure he disappeared exactly as ordered.

“Forget it,” Bill snapped, his voice a cold, sharp blade. “Drive normal Don’t look back Just get me home-now.”

The driver didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped the wheel, forcing his hands to steady as he merged into traffic, unable to ignore the way the SUVS stayed glued to their bumper

Bill didn’t watch the road. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the screen before he tapped a burner number he hadn’t touched in years

It rang three times

When the line clicked open, there was only a long, measured silence heavy, rhythmic breathing on the other end

Bill didn’t waste time with pleasantries His voice was a low, jagged whisper stripped of all corporate pretense “I need you to take care of some trash for me”

He paused, letting the coldness of the instruction sink in as he watched the SUVs in the mirror.

“Give it twenty-four hours,” Bill continued, his voice dropping into a register of pure, cold malice. “I’ll be gone by then, and my involvement will be non-existent. I’ll send you the det Don’t worry about the payment-I’ll wire you fifty percent now and the other fifty when it’s done. Just name your price.”

The voice on the other end didn’t speak. Only a low, guttural “Hmm” came through the line

Then, the line went dead.

Bill tucked the phone away. His eyes, once full of panicked confusion, had hardened into something darker, more sinister.

That had been a simple business transaction: a check, a clinic, and a prompt, final disappearance.

It was efficient. It was controlled.

He thought of Brandy, and the others before her-the young, beautiful, expensive distractions he kept at the clubs. They were fantasies he could purchase, things Trudy could never comprehend.

The only good thing about his wife was her status and her family’s money.

Trudy was a status symbol, a decorative asset bolstered by her family’s wealth. She was perfect for parading at high-society galas and board dinners, but behind the closed doors of their bedroom, she was a complete void.

She was nothing more than a log, incapable of providing the fire he craved or the satisfaction he demanded.

Bill finally stepped out of the vehicle, loosening his tie as he approached the front door.

He was the one in control. He always had been.

He would tell Trudy some sanitized version of his “career change,” she would nod and pour his scotch, and he would sleep soundly knowing the cleanup was already underway

He liked the narrative better this way: he wasn’t being ruined; he was simply moving on to a more interesting game.