The Accidental Wealth

Chapter 19

The rain pelted down relentlessly, turning the city into a dark, watery hellscape. Streetlights struggled to pierce the gloom, their feeble beams reflected in puddles that looked more like pools of blood in the eerie glow. It was the kind of night that made sensible folks huddle indoors, leaving the streets to the desperate and the deranged.

In a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of town, a man sat tied to a chair, his once-crisp white shirt now a canvas of crimson. He looked like he'd taken a swim in a vat of marinara sauce, except marinara sauce usually smelled better and didn't come with a side of broken bones.

Victor sauntered into the warehouse, his polished Oxfords clicking against the concrete floor, each step echoing through the cavernous space like a twisted doorbell. His tailored suit, immaculate and pristine, seemed almost laughably out of place in the grimy surroundings. In his mid-thirties, Victor carried an air of confidence, a stark contrast to the bl