Home / Urban / Rise Of The Student Billionaire / Chapter 370: Gift For Driver
Chapter 370: Gift For Driver
Author: Dragon Sly
last update2024-06-12 19:13:14

Benjamin smiled and said, "Let's go now." Cordelia nodded, and together they headed outside, with the happy driver following closely behind.

Once they got into the car, the driver glanced at them through the rearview mirror. "Congratulations, sir. Congratulations, madam," he said warmly.

Benjamin nodded. "Thank you. We're going to the hotel, so drive us there."

The driver nodded, "Ok, sir." He started the car and drove away.

Inside the car, Benjamin gently guided Cordelia to lay her head on his lap, letting her relax. As her head rested on his lap, she stared at the beautiful diamond ring on her finger, a radiant smile spreading across her face. The car moved smoothly through the city, and Cordelia felt a deep sense of happiness and contentment.

As they were driving, Benjamin noticed a place where cars were parked, a showroom side. He asked the driver to reverse and go there.

The driver, though curious, respectfully reversed and drove to the car showroom. He parked, and Cordelia rais
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  • Chapter 461

    Darnell’s eyes darted around the room. For a long moment he said nothing, counting on fear to buy him silence. Then, beaten and in pain, he began to speak—slowly, haltingly, as if each name peeled a layer off him.“It wasn’t just one place,” he said at last. “There were men who liked profit more than question. A few ministers—small ones, not the public faces—who took payments to look the other way. A customs official in Port Qadir, Fahad Qari, who helped clear shipments. A registrar at the land office who put properties in nominees—Omar Nadir. A judge who delayed cases when asked—Judge Basim Haroun. A shipping magnate—Rafik Sayeed—who let containers disappear for a fee.”He swallowed, the words tasting like ash. “And businessmen—people with legitimate fronts. Galleria Group’s director, Marwan Al-Issa, washed invoices sometimes; Crescent Commodities handled fake paperwork.”Abdelkarim’s jaw tightened. Benjamin's face stayed expressionless, but Benjamin watched each name, measuring weig

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    Darnell’s eyes darted around the room. For a long moment he said nothing, counting on fear to buy him silence. Then, beaten and in pain, he began to speak—slowly, haltingly, as if each name peeled a layer off him.“It wasn’t just one place,” he said at last. “There were men who liked profit more than question. A few ministers—small ones, not the public faces—who took payments to look the other way. A customs official in Port Qadir, Fahad Qari, who helped clear shipments. A registrar at the land office who put properties in nominees—Omar Nadir. A judge who delayed cases when asked—Judge Basim Haroun. A shipping magnate—Rafik Sayeed—who let containers disappear for a fee.”He swallowed, the words tasting like ash. “And businessmen—people with legitimate fronts. Galleria Group’s director, Marwan Al-Issa, washed invoices sometimes; Crescent Commodities handled fake paperwork.”Abdelkarim’s jaw tightened. Benjamin's face stayed expressionless, but Benjamin watched each name, measuring weig

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    Darnell’s face went ashen. He shook his head violently, scrambling back in his chair, one hand pressed to his bleeding thigh. “No—please,” he sputtered, voice cracking. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll do anything. I’ll work for you. I’ll— I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t—please, I can pay you, I can manage things for you. I’ll be useful. Don’t kill me.” He looked to Benjamin , eyes pleading and frantic. “You can use me. I’ll hand over everything. I’ll tell you everything. Don’t—please.” His whole body trembled with fear, the reality of his defeat written plain on his face. Benjamin watched him, expression unreadable. Benjamin glanced toward the doorway. “Abdelkarim — come in.” Abdelkarim stepped forward, moving close enough for Benjamin to whisper in his ear. The words were low and quick; Abdelkarim listened, then gave a slow, determined nod. He took a seat opposite Darnell, folding his hands on his knees. His face was hard, but his voice was calm. “Talk,” Abdelkarim said. “

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