Beneath the Billionaire Mask - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

East Village – 9:17 AM
Julia King’s Apartment
Julia didn’t like surprises.
So when she opened her front door to find a sleek black envelope slid halfway under the frame—no stamp, no label, no return address—her stomach immediately knotted.
She bent down, picked it up, and hesitated.
Her name was written in silver ink.
No title. No frills.
Just: JULIA KING.
She opened it slowly.
Inside was a flash drive. And a single line typed in bold, sans-serif print:
“Run it live. Noon. Or she dies.”
Her breath caught.
“She…?” she whispered. Then she saw the second note.
Taped beneath the flash drive was a still image.
Elena.
Tied to a chair.
A warehouse. A clock behind her.
It read: 11:58.
Midtown – Blackwood Global – 10:12 AM
Adrian stood in front of a glass wall in his private office, the city below a hive of indifference. On his desk, Evelyn’s letter and the notebook lay open beside his tablet.
He hadn’t spoken since dawn.
Every angle they ran led back to the same truth: Veritas wasn’t trying to just destroy him.
They were trying to use him.
Control his legacy. Absorb his influence. Rewrite the narrative on their terms—blackmailing, silencing, replacing anyone who stood in the way.
And now Elena was at the center of it.
His phone buzzed.
Julia.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Talk,” he said.
“They have her,” Julia whispered, voice shaking. “They sent me a drive. A video. Elena’s tied up somewhere. A countdown—noon. They want me to stream the video live on the Tribune’s public channel.”
Adrian’s pulse turned to ice.
“I need the location,” he said, already reaching for his encrypted laptop. “Every pixel. Every corner of that video.”
“I’m sending it now.”
The call ended.
The weight of everything settled like iron against his chest.
They had threatened him before.
They had threatened her.
But now they’d crossed the final line.
He called security.
“Clear my afternoon. Get me access to the surveillance satellite files from the last two hours. And prep the jet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And one more thing,” he added, voice low. “If anything happens to Elena Cruz… I’ll bury the entire board of Veritas alive.”
Unknown Location – 11:23 AM
Elena fought the ropes digging into her wrists, blood sticking to her palms where the twine had already burned her skin.
The room smelled like rust and rot—concrete, oil, and silence.
A single camera lens blinked red across from her.
She kept her breathing even.
They wanted her afraid. Helpless.
But even now, even tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, she could feel something else building in her chest: clarity.
Whoever had orchestrated this didn’t just want silence.
They wanted a performance.
To make her a warning. A message.
Her gaze drifted to the clock.
The camera whirred closer.
A voice crackled through a hidden speaker.
“Ms. Cruz,” it said smoothly. “This is your final rehearsal.”
Julia’s Office – 11:32 AM
Julia had locked herself inside the control room. Two monitors glowed before her. On one screen: the video feed from the flash drive. On the other: the Tribune’s live broadcasting channel.
A single red button waited at the bottom.
“STREAM LIVE.”
Her hand hovered over it.
The timer on the warehouse feed read 00:27:58.
She didn’t know what to do.
She had called Adrian. But what if he didn’t make it in time?
What if Elena died because she hesitated?
Adrian’s Jet – En Route – 11:37 AM
The flight was barely fifteen minutes in, slicing through Manhattan airspace with military speed.
Adrian stared at the coordinates mapped from the video feed.
A warehouse. Jersey dockside. Once used for textile shipping—now abandoned and red-zoned due to asbestos contamination.
He was already armed.
But this wasn’t a rescue.
This was a war.
He turned to his pilot. “Put me down on the roof. I’ll get her out.”
Warehouse – 11:52 AM
Elena heard the soft flutter of air vents shifting.
Then—a sharp snap.
The camera lens sparked. A red light burst.
She looked up.
From the ceiling, a dark figure dropped silently.
Boots. Gloves. Black armor.
Adrian.
He didn’t say a word.
He pulled a knife from his belt, sliced her restraints clean in three movements, and gripped her wrists.
“You came,” she breathed.
He looked into her eyes.
“Always.”
Julia’s Office – 11:59:40
The live stream had not yet started.
Julia’s finger hovered.
Then her screen blinked.
New Feed Incoming – External Override.
Suddenly, the screen changed.
Adrian’s face.
In a dark room.
Looking directly at the camera.
“Run it,” he said.
The stream launched automatically.
Global Broadcast – 12:00 PM
Millions of viewers around the country opened their phones to find the Tribune’s feed had gone live.
What they saw:
Adrian Blackwood.
His voice—clear. Steady.
“This isn’t a press release. This is a confession.”
“My name is Adrian Blackwood. I am the CEO of Blackwood Global, and for the last six years, I’ve operated under the false assumption that doing good behind closed doors was enough.”
“It wasn’t.”
“The organization known as Veritas has infiltrated not just this city’s infrastructure—but its soul. They don’t just launder power. They replace it. Erase it. Reassign it. I know because I funded them.”
“Not knowingly. Not at first. But ignorance doesn’t erase guilt.”
“This is what they do. This is who they’ve taken. This is how we stop them.”
Behind him, the video from Evelyn’s notebook began to play.
Names. Faces. Ledgers.
Truth.
The mask was off.
And the world would never be the same again.
Global Broadcast – Live – 12:03 PM
Adrian’s voice echoed across the world.
Behind him, screen after screen showed evidence—offshore accounts, falsified death certificates, internal memos with coded language.
The world watched in stunned silence as familiar names scrolled past.
Politicians. Philanthropists. Judges. CEOs.
People believed to be dead… now labeled reassigned.
The chat feeds blew up with disbelief, accusations, panic.
Julia’s phone vibrated nonstop. Her inbox flooded.
But she couldn’t stop watching.
Adrian wasn’t just confessing.
He was shattering everything.
Warehouse – 12:07 PM
Elena sat on the floor beside Adrian, her wrists still red and raw from the ropes.
The drone cameras were gone. The shadows, for now, still.
“You just put a target on your back the size of Manhattan,” she murmured.
“I had one already,” he replied.
She looked at him, seeing not the billionaire in a tailored suit—but the man beneath the mask. The man who had just sacrificed everything he’d built for the truth.
“You didn’t have to name yourself.”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “If I didn’t, they’d twist it. Call it deepfaked. Anonymous slander.”
His hand brushed against hers.
“You were right,” he added. “We can’t take down Veritas quietly.”
She looked at him. “And what if they come after you now?”
“They already have.”
A beat.
Her voice softened. “Then we run.”
Adrian stared at her, eyes shadowed by something deeper than fear—resolve.
“No,” he said. “We fight.”
Blackwood Global – Minutes Later
Phones were ringing off the hook.
Security had locked down the building.
Reporters swarmed the sidewalk outside. Drones circled. News anchors speculated live.
Inside the glass-walled boardroom, several members of the board huddled together, whispering frantically.
Some were erasing files. Others were on burner phones.
Julius Grant stood alone at the far end of the room.
Watching.
Listening.
Unmoved.
Then his phone vibrated.
One message.
“You told him too much.”
He typed back slowly.
He told them everything. I warned you this would happen if you pushed her.
Now you deal with him your way. But leave the girl to me.
Tribune Newsroom – 12:41 PM
Julia leaned back in her chair, staring at the frozen image of Adrian’s confession now paused on every major news channel.
She had worked in media for over a decade.
She’d never seen anything like this.
Elena called. Julia picked up immediately.
“You’re safe?” Julia asked.
“For now,” Elena replied. “But everything’s different.”
“I know.”
“Elena,” she said quietly, “do you realize what you just did?”
Elena glanced at Adrian, who stood at the far edge of the warehouse looking out at the water.
“No,” she said. “But I know what I had to do.”
A silence settled between them.
Then: “Julia… there’s something else.”
Elena told her about her mother. The name in the notebook. The payment. The silence.
Julia’s breath caught. “Elena—”
“I’m going to find out what really happened. No matter what it costs.”
Later That Night – Secret Veritas Meeting Point
A long corridor deep beneath an abandoned law office in Lower Manhattan.
Candlelight flickered over concrete walls.
Nine masked figures sat around a circular table.
At the center: Julius Grant.
He set the notebook Evelyn had left on the table with deliberate care.
“You let him speak,” one of the masked figures hissed.
“I let him choose,” Julius said coldly.
“And now what?”
Julius raised his eyes, and a cruel smile curved on his lips.
“Now we make him regret it.”
A pause.
“And we remind Ms. Cruz that masks aren’t the only things that can be removed.”
Blackwood Global – Adrian’s Private Office – 7:42 PM
The skyline outside Adrian’s window was fractured by flashes of news helicopters and camera drones. Below, the city pulsed like a living organism—curious, enraged, fascinated.
He had always known the cost would come.
He just hadn’t expected it to feel so… quiet.
Elena sat across from him, her laptop open to the Tribune homepage. Headlines were everywhere:
“Billionaire Exposes Underground Syndicate: Blackwood’s Confession Rocks Manhattan”
“Veritas: Real or Manufactured Conspiracy?”
“Elena Cruz, Journalist or Accomplice?”
She scrolled, jaw clenched. “They’re already twisting it.”
He looked at her, the corners of his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “They have to. The only thing more dangerous than the truth is a woman who survived it.”
Her throat tightened. “They named me.”
“You knew they would.”
She nodded. “Doesn’t make it easier.”
A beat passed. Then she added, “They’ll come for me.”
“They’ll try.”
She looked at him. “And you?”
Adrian’s gaze was steady. “They already are.”
Brooklyn – Rooftop Apartment – 8:11 PM
Marcus Vale watched the news broadcast on his cracked tablet, the edge of a whiskey glass pressed to his lips.
He laughed—low and sharp.
“Suicidal move, Blackwood,” he muttered. “You think Veritas will let this slide?”
He stood, stretching as he clicked off the feed.
“No one walks away clean,” he said to the empty room.
Then he opened a locked drawer.
Inside was a photograph—one he hadn’t looked at in ten years.
Adrian. Evelyn. And him.
Brothers in ambition. Now enemies in legacy.
He slid the photo into his coat pocket.
“It’s time I came home.”
Elena’s Apartment – Later That Night
Elena moved through the silence like it might shatter under her feet. Every window now felt exposed. Every light too bright.
She checked the locks three times before turning on her coffee maker.
Then she heard it—a soft tap at the front door.
Not a knock.
A tap.
Her chest tightened.
She moved slowly, reaching for the taser in her drawer.
Another tap.
She stepped closer, peered through the peephole—
No one.
She hesitated, breath caught in her throat.
A folded piece of paper had been slipped under the door.
She bent, picked it up.
Four words, handwritten in red ink:
“You were warned, Cruz.”
Her blood chilled.
Then she turned it over.
A black wax seal.
The Veritas emblem burned through the center.