Too Late to Hold Me Back novel Chapter 843

The police had already cordoned off the area with yellow tape. A growing crowd surged toward the scene, with more than a few people gagging at the sight.

According to the bystanders, the staff inside the venue had been completely oblivious to the massacre on Wall Street. When the men walked in, the servers assumed they were just regular patrons. No one expected them to head straight for the roof and leap...

"Let's go. One look is enough." Owen wrapped a protective arm around Mira, guiding her away. He was terrified the gruesome sight would give her nightmares.

"Wait!" As Mira and the others reached their car, a voice called out from behind. They turned to see Jude Vance.

"Your skills are undeniably leagues ahead of mine. I respect that. I was completely blind before, and I apologize."

He had followed Mira's strategy as well. He had invested too conservatively at first, but once he saw the jaw-dropping returns, he had doubled down mid-way.

Although his margins weren't anywhere near as astronomical as Mira's, he still walked away with tens of millions of dollars.

Before leaving, Jude offered a warning. "Watch your backs around Lawrence Lance and Mishka. Mishka tried to collude with a syndicate a few days ago to sabotage you, but it backfired spectacularly. She ended up having to cough up two billion dollars to them in compensation. Ever since, she's been holding a vicious grudge against you."

She botched her own scheme to ruin them, and now she was blaming them for it?

"Was it that time Fidelity Trust stock spiked abnormally?" Mira asked.

"I believe so."

"Got it. Thanks for the heads up."

Once they were in the car, Hank asked, "You guys planning on forgiving Jude Vance?"

"It's not like we have some deep-seated blood feud. Since he's willing to apologize, it's better than making another enemy."

The stunt at the banquet was definitely underhanded, but at the end of the day, it was still within the bounds of cutthroat business rivalry.

The Larsen Grand was about four or five miles away from Wall Street. They were halfway there when the sharp crack of gunfire erupted up ahead.

Owen's phone buzzed with a text: *Take an alternate route. We are clearing obstacles ahead.*

In the backseat, Hank caught a glimpse of the message. "Damn it, that has to be Mishka. Once I get back, I'm going to make sure she pays for this."

Vaughn and his men instantly drew their weapons, going on high alert.

The convoy of cars swiftly pulled a U-turn, taking a longer, alternate route.

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