The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 500

Chapter 229 The Best of Hatred

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Chapter 229: The Cost of Hatred

Bill continued staring at the screen long after the message had been seen.

The cruel satisfaction lingering inside him refused to fade.

For the first time since Monroe and his men had left, he feit as though he had regained sure measure of control.

Not much. But enough.

Enough to make sure he wasn’t the only one paying for what had happened.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the upper floor as the driver moved through the mansion gathering valuables.

Bill barely noticed.

His attention remained fixed on the phone in his hand.

Then suddenly, the device vibrated.

His eyes dropped to the screen.

Private Number.

Bill frowned, a strange feeling creeping into his chest. The call was coming far sooner than he had

expected.

For a moment, he considered letting it ring, but the uncertainty gnawing at him won out and he answered.

‘What?”

A brief silence followed.

Then the familiar voice from earlier came through the speaker

‘The deal is off. You’re on your own.”

Bill’s expression tightened instantly.

“What?!” he barked. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I saw your last message.”

For the first time since sending it, uncertainty crept into Bill’s expression.

“Framing Nicholas Ashcroft changes the situation,” the man said emotionlessly

Bill’s eyes narrowed.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.

The man didn’t answer immediately.

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When he finally spoke, his voice remained as calm as ever.

“Crossing à man like that comes with a price.”

“You greedy son of a bitch!” Bill exploded: “I already doubled the price and now you want more?!”

“Fifty million dollars.”

The man’s voice was steady, leaving no room for negotiation-

Bill nearly dropped the phone.

“What?!” he roared. “Fifty million?! No way! That bitch’s life isn’t worth a penny!”

“Then find someone else.”

The response was immediate.

Bill’s face twisted with fury.

“Bullshit!” he barked. “You’re just looking for an excuse to back out.”

The man’s indifference only fueled his anger.

“Send me my money back and I’ll find someone who actually has the guts to do the job.”

A brief pause followed, then a low, mocking laugh came through the speaker.

“Good luck finding someone.”

Then, just like that, the line went dead.

Bill stared at the screen in disbelief.

His chest rose and fell heavily.

Fifty million dollars.

The bastard had to be out of his mind.

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Even with nearly two hundred million hidden away, the thought of spending fifty million dollars on Brandy Martinez made Bill’s blood boil.

She wasn’t worth it.

Not even close.

Yet as the anger slowly settled, the hitman’s warning echoed in Bill’s mind

The problem wasn’t Brandy.

It was Nicholas Ashcroft.

Consumed by his hatred for Brandy, Bill had failed to confront an uncomfortable reality.

A simple job had become fifty million dollars the moment Nicholas Ashcroft’s name became involved.

of Hatred

The realization left a bitter taste in Bill’s mouth.

“Even in death, you’re still squeezing me dry, you bitch,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

For several seconds, Bill stared at the phone, contemplating whether it was even worth it.

Then his gaze drifted around the wrecked study.

The destruction surrounding him made the decision for him. –

Cursing under his breath, Bill redialed the number.

The call connected almost immediately.

“Changed your mind?” the voice asked.

Bill closed his eyes briefly, forcing down the frustration bubbling inside him.

“Fine,” he spat. “Fifty million.”

The response came immediately, as though the man had been expecting that answer all along.

“Wire the remaining forty-five million now.”

Bill nearly choked.

“What? No!” he snapped. “What’s my guarantee you won’t take the money and disappear?”

A brief silence followed.

Then the man sighed.

“You don’t seem to understand what’s at stake here.”

Bill’s expression darkened.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A dead woman is one thing,” the man replied calmly. “Making look like Nicholas Ashcroft ordered the

hit is another.”

Bill fell silent.

“The moment that body is found, someone might point a finger at him. If Ashcroft starts digging, me and my men become targets.”

A brief pause followed before the man added,

“We’ll need to disappear the moment the job is done.”

The man’s tone remained matter-of-fact.

“We’ll do the job. You’ll get your video. Then we both disappear.”

The line fell silent for a few seconds.

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<Chapter 229 The 6cct of Hatred

“You’ll get exactly what you paid for. But I need the full payment upfront.”

The man’s voice left no room for negotiation.

“Take it or leave it.”

Bill’s grip tightened around the phone.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

The bastard was right.

The moment Ashcroft’s name became part of the equation, everything changed.

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If something went wrong, he would be the obvious suspect-the only man with a motive and the first person they would look at.

No.

He couldn’t afford to take that gamble.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Fine. I’ll wire the money.”

His eyes darkened.

“But for fifty million dollars, this entertainment better be worth every cent.”

“Wire the money and consider it done,” the man replied without hesitation.

Then the call disconnected.

Bill remained motionless, staring at the dark screen/in his hand.

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