The Billionaire’s Secret: What Was Hidden Behind the Broken Watch

Grant slowly raised his hands, stepping away from the panic room's concealed entrance. "You're too late, Victor. The files were already transmitted to federal authorities ten minutes ago."

Victor’s smile faded, replaced by dark anger. "You’re lying. The jammer trucks outside cut off all cellular and internet signals the moment we breached the perimeter. You haven't sent anything."

Grant didn't blink. "You really don't know how I built my business, do you? I don't rely on public cell towers, Victor. My estate is linked directly to a private satellite network. The moment you opened those gates, an automated distress protocol broadcasted every byte of Scott Reed's ledger to the U.S. Attorney General's office and every major news outlet in the country."

Victor’s face went pale. He stepped forward, slamming the butt of his rifle into Grant’s stomach. Grant doubled over, gasping for air, but forced himself to laugh through the pain.

"You're done, Victor," Grant wheezed, looking up at his attacker with defiant eyes. "You and your uncle."

"Maybe," Victor snarled, raising the barrel of his weapon toward Grant's chest. "But you won't live to see it."

Before Victor could pull the trigger, a thunderous explosion echoed through the mansion as flashbang grenades shattered the windows. Heavy boot heels slammed onto the floorboards as federal tactical officers in dark blue vests flooded the master suite, weapons raised.

"FBI! Drop your weapons! Hands on your head now!"

Victor panicked, turning his weapon toward the doorway, but before he could fire, two high-caliber rounds struck him in the shoulder and leg, sending him crashing to the floor, screaming in pain. The remaining mercenaries dropped their guns, raising their hands in surrender as federal agents swarmed the room.

A tall woman with graying hair and sharp brown eyes stepped through the smoke, displaying an official badge. "Grant Mercer?"

Grant wiped a smear of blood from his lip, standing up straight. "I am."

"I’m Special Agent Sarah Miller, Internal Affairs Division," she said, her voice authority itself. "We received your satellite transmission twenty minutes ago. The evidence Scott Reed gathered was enough to issue immediate arrest warrants for Richard Vance and his entire network."

Grant let out a long, ragged breath, feeling the weight of fifteen years finally lift off his shoulders. He turned toward the concealed door. "There are two people inside that room who need your protection."