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The Slumdog Billionaire 28. The Italian Mafia
Chapter Twenty Eight *Boom doom krrrsk* Henry's fist connected with Zack's gut, hard. The impact made Zack buckle over instantly, gasping for air as he crumpled to the floor like a weakling. He groaned in pain, clutching his stomach, but before he could recover, Henry's face was already twisted with fury. "You ruined my life as a doctor," Henry seethed, standing over Zack with clenched fists. "And don't you ever dare insult my wife again." Zack, fueled by a mix of rage and humiliation, scrambled to his feet. "You think you can hit me?!" he spat, swinging wildly at Henry, but he was too slow. Henry easily sidestepped his weak attempt and retaliated with a brutal right hook that sent Zack stumbling back, his lip splitting open. Blood sprayed across Zack's face, staining his designer suit. “You're pathetic," Henry muttered under his breath as he delivered another punch to Zack's jaw, knocking out one of his teeth. The blood poured from Zack's mouth as he cried out in pain, d
The Slumdog Billionaire 29. The Powerful Boss
Chapter Twenty Nine Zack stumbled down the hallway, blood still trickling from his mouth, his body aching from the punches Henry had delivered. His mind was spinning, but one thought kept repeating in his head—Who the hell is Henry Knights? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. How could this “nobody” have the power to call in someone like Isabella? Someone with enough authority to fire a whole team of security without even breaking a sweat? Zack wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, his teeth clenched in rage. As he turned a corner, he spotted the security guards who had just been fired because of him. Their faces were red with anger, their fists balled as they gathered in a tight group, muttering amongst themselves. “What do you want?” Zack sneered, still trying to keep a shred of his dignity intact. One of the guards, a large man with tattoos snaking up his arms, stepped forward. His face was filled with fury. “You got us all fired, you piece of trash,” he
The Slumdog Billionaire 30. The Fake Birkin
Chapter Thirty Henry leaned back against the couch, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was time to set the final part of his plan into motion. He texted Mr. Anderson, his trusted confidant, to send in a dispatch rider with the clothes and bags he had picked out for Jasmine. “Make sure everything arrives on time, and add a little note that says ‘To my queen, from your loving husband. I can’t wait to see you shine.’” Henry smiled to himself as he hit send. He could already picture her face when she opened the gifts. After texting Anderson, he rose from the couch and made his way upstairs to their bedroom, where Jasmine was still sleeping soundly. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. Jasmine stirred, her eyelashes fluttering as she slowly opened her eyes. “Good morning, birthday girl,” Henry whispered, a playful smile tugging at his lips. Jasmine blinked, still groggy but now fully awake. Before she could say a word, Henry started singing the familiar tune
The Slumdog Billionaire 31. The Sweet Virgin
Chapter Thirty One Henry held Jasmine's hand as they stepped out of the limousine and walked toward *The Garden of Eden.* It was unlike any place Jasmine had ever seen. The marble pathway shimmered under the soft sunlight, and exotic flowers adorned every corner. The air smelled sweet, a delicate mixture of jasmine and lavender that filled her senses. As they approached the entrance, the staff immediately greeted them with warm smiles, bowing slightly as they opened the tall golden doors for the couple. Jasmine’s eyes widened as she took in the beauty around her. The garden was like a scene out of a fairy tale. Fountains cascaded into clear pools, birds chirped in the trees, and the soft sound of a violin played in the distance. “This place is unreal,” she whispered in awe, her fingers tightening around Henry’s hand. Henry smiled, pleased with her reaction. “I wanted today to be special for you. You deserve nothing less.” They were guided to a private section of the garden, whe
The Slumdog Billionaire 32. Gold Digger
Chapter Thirty Two Henry shot out of bed, panic surging through him. Jasmine’s side of the bed was cold, and his heart pounded as he searched the house, calling her name. But she was nowhere to be found. No one seemed to know where she’d gone. His frustration grew as he moved from room to room. After what felt like hours, Henry gave up. He hurried into the bathroom, taking the fastest shower of his life. The cold water hitting his skin did little to calm his nerves. He threw on his clothes—simple, sharp, and ready for the day—and grabbed his phone. He dialed Anderson’s number, his fingers trembling as he waited for him to pick up. “Find her,” Henry barked the moment Anderson answered. “I don’t care how, but find her. I can’t lose her.” “I’m on it, sir,” Anderson replied coolly, already knowing the seriousness of the situation. Henry was about to rush out of the house when his phone buzzed again. It was Anderson. “Sir, we tracked her down. We used Elon Musk’s satellite, and
The Slumdog Billionaire 33.Break His Legs & Hands
Chapter Thirty Three The crowd gasped, whispers spreading like wildfire. Some were amused, others shocked, but all were intrigued. Damon basked in the attention, enjoying every moment of it. Even Jasmine’s brother, Jasper, was secretly pleased, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watched the rumors take on a life of their own. Meanwhile, Henry had been helping with final preparations, oblivious to the rumors. That was until he overheard two women gossiping nearby. “Did you hear what Damon said? That Jasmine is just a gold digger, trading her virginity for contracts,” one of them snickered. “Yeah, poor Henry. What a joke,” the other one giggled. Henry froze. Rage bubbled up inside him, his fists clenching at his sides. He could feel his blood boiling as the words sank in. Damon was humiliating his wife—*his wife!*—in front of everyone. And for what? To boost his own ego? Henry had had enough. Without thinking, he dashed toward Damon, his footsteps heavy with purpose. His
The Slumdog Billionaire 34. Kneel Down & Apologize !
Chapter Thirty Four Henry snickered, his lips curling into a smile as he eyed the group of thugs advancing toward him. He could tell they thought they were intimidating. Tattoos, piercings, bulging muscles—they had the look, but looks weren't everything. He rolled his shoulders, subtly cracking his knuckles under his sleeve. No one knew this about him—not Jasmine, not even his closest friends. He could fight. Not just a couple of sloppy punches thrown in desperation. No, he used to be a boxer—a good one, too. That was how he made his money back in the day. Surviving with every jab and hook while getting through medical school on scholarship. He eyed the nine thugs, calculating. They were big, and that was their weakness. Big meant slow, obvious movements, glaring blind spots, and overconfidence. He could take them. He could beat them all senseless, leave them groaning on the pavement. But then his eyes flicked over to Jasmine, standing not far away. Her eyes were wide with worr
The Slumdog Billionaire 35. Spare Our Lives
Chapter Thirty-Five Damon gritted his teeth, the words scraping out of his throat like shards of broken glass. “Over my dead body!” he spat, his eyes filled with defiance. His father’s face darkened, his patience snapping like a brittle twig. He swung his leg forward, the polished leather of his shoe connecting with Damon’s ribs in a swift, merciless kick. “You fool! You just destroyed our empire because of your stupidity!” the older man roared, his face twisted in fury. “Apologize, right now, before he ruins us completely!” Damon gasped for breath, barely holding himself upright. The fire in his eyes dimmed, but the arrogance remained. He shook his head slightly, defiance lingering in the curl of his lip. “He’s a nobody, Father. Just a pathetic—” Before Damon could finish, his father’s phone beeped again. The sound sliced through the tension like a knife, echoing off the cold concrete walls of the surrounding buildings. The old man’s eyes widened as he read the message, his hand
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174. Passion
Jasmine stood in front of the large window of their penthouse, gazing out at the glittering city lights. The night was quiet, but her heart wasn’t. It raced with an unexplainable tension that had built over the evening. Her fingers traced the edge of the silk robe she wore, the fabric light against her skin, yet somehow carrying the weight of her anticipation.Behind her, she felt the faintest shift in the air—a presence. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Henry. She could feel him, his energy wrapping around her like an invisible tether. “I couldn’t find you in bed,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending a ripple down her spine. “Were you thinking about me?”Jasmine smiled, her reflection meeting his in the glass. “Always.”The sound of his bare feet on the hardwood floors was soft, yet every step he took made her pulse quicken. In moments, his arms wrapped around her waist, his chest pressing against her back. She let out a small gasp as his lips brushed against her shoulde
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173. The Passionate Son-in-law
Jasmine sat by the window, her legs curled beneath her as the late afternoon sun bathed her in its golden light. She gazed out at the city below, her heart still racing from the memories of the morning. Her fingers absently traced the edge of the glass, the coolness grounding her as her mind swirled with thoughts of Henry.She hadn’t known it could feel like this—so overwhelming, so consuming. Every touch, every kiss, had unraveled her, leaving her bare and vulnerable, but never more alive. Her chest rose and fell with a deep, steadying breath, but the longing that lingered in her heart was undeniable.The soft creak of the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts. She turned, her eyes meeting Henry’s as he leaned against the frame, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. His dark eyes held a familiar intensity, one that sent a shiver racing through her body.“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, the kind of voice th
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172. Love Under the moonlight
Henry leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass of water in his hand as the cool liquid soothed his parched throat. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden rays across the marble surfaces. The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the city below, but his mind was far from calm. Thoughts of Jasmine—her soft laughter, the way her skin had glowed in the morning light—lingered like a heady fog.Jasmine appeared in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the soft light. She wore nothing but one of his oversized shirts, the fabric brushing just above her knees. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks still flushed from their earlier intimacy. The sight of her sent a wave of desire rushing through Henry’s veins, his breath catching as their eyes met.“You left me alone,” she said softly, her voice teasing but with an edge of vulnerability.Henry set the glass down, his gaze darkening as he took a step toward her. “I thought you were resting.”Her lips curved into a s
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171. Morning Heir Making
Henry stirred awake as the faint golden light of dawn streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The air was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the city waking below. His body was warm, wrapped in the comfort of the plush sheets and the softness of Jasmine nestled beside him.He turned his head slightly, his eyes landing on her serene face. Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she slept peacefully. Her hair cascaded over the pillow like silk, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest made his heart clench with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.Henry couldn’t resist reaching out. His fingers brushed against her cheek, featherlight, and she stirred at the touch, her eyelids fluttering open. Her sleepy gaze met his, and a soft smile spread across her lips.“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.“Good morning,” Henry replied, his voice low, filled with affection. His hand moved to tuck a stray strand of hair
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171. My Darling Virgin Wife
The soft glow of the candles followed them as Henry scooped Jasmine into his arms. Her skin was still damp from the bath, warm and soft against his chest. She let out a quiet gasp, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips brushing lightly against his jaw."Henry," she whispered, her voice a mix of nervousness and anticipation.He paused, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Are you sure, Jasmine?" His voice was low, filled with both tenderness and restraint. "I don’t want to rush this if you’re not ready."Her cheeks flushed, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I’ve never been more ready for anything."The sincerity in her eyes made his chest tighten. With a soft nod, he carried her into the bedroom, the faint scent of lavender still lingering in the air. The golden light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, the shadows of the night dancing along the walls.Henry set her down gently on the edge of the bed, his movements careful, reverent. He knelt before her, his
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170. Sexy Shower Time
Henry staggered through the door of his penthouse, his body weighed down by exhaustion. The soft glow of the evening lights spilled through the windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. He loosened his tie, his every muscle aching from the relentless grind of the last few weeks. His mind was fogged with exhaustion, but he couldn’t help the flicker of pride at what he’d accomplished.“Henry?” Jasmine’s soft voice floated from the bedroom. The sound was like a balm to his frayed nerves.“I’m here,” he called back, his voice rough. He dropped his briefcase by the door and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.Jasmine appeared in the doorway, her figure bathed in the warm light of the room. She wore a silk robe that clung to her curves, her eyes filled with concern as she crossed the room toward him.“You look like you’ve been through a war,” she said, brushing her fingers over his jaw. Her touch was featherlight, but it sent a spark of warmth through him.“It feels like
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169. The prodigal son
Henry stormed out of the estate, his steps heavy and purposeful as the night air hit him like a slap to the face. The faint hum of the helicopters above was drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His grandfather’s words echoed in his head, their sharp edges cutting deep.“You’re not family,” Henry muttered to himself, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “I’m just another asset to him. Another chess piece.”The guards standing outside the gates straightened as Henry approached, their gazes wary. He shot them a glare so fierce that one of them visibly flinched.“Open the damn gate,” Henry snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.The guard hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying. The gates creaked open, and Henry strode out without sparing them another glance. The crunch of gravel beneath his feet was a harsh reminder of the cold reality he was leaving behind.Anderson caught up to him, his pa
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168. The Grand Commander Of War
The room seemed to shrink as Henry’s grandfather stood. His every movement was deliberate, exuding a power so commanding it felt like the very air was holding its breath. The sharp lines of his tailored black suit amplified his imposing frame, and the insignia of the Grand Commander gleamed on his chest like a badge of omnipotence. His presence filled the room, an aura so intense it was almost tangible, crackling like an electrical storm.The two guards by the door immediately bowed, their heads lowered so deeply that they nearly touched the floor. Outside the study, Henry could hear the shuffle of footsteps and murmurs as more people fell to their knees, as if in reverence to a god descending from the heavens.Henry stood frozen, his jaw clenched, refusing to bow. His fists tightened at his sides as he watched the scene unfold. The man before him wasn’t just his grandfather—he was a living legend, a shadow that loomed over every story whispered in corridors of power.“Grand Commander
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167.The Grand Commander General
The sun was just beginning to set when Henry stood outside the estate, leaning against the sleek black car. The orange glow of twilight brushed his sharp features as he thought about Evelyn’s words, the lies she had spun, and the deeper trap he might have walked into. The air was heavy, filled with the faint scent of jasmine from the estate’s sprawling gardens, but Henry wasn’t in the mood to appreciate the beauty. His mind was a storm. Suddenly, a rickety old cart clattered down the gravel driveway. A man, hunched over with a woven hat shadowing his face, pushed the cart. It was piled high with potatoes, their earthy smell wafting in the air as the wheels squeaked with every turn. Henry frowned. “Who let him in here?” he muttered to himself. The man approached, his movements deliberate but unassuming. As he neared, Henry noticed his ragged clothes and dirt-stained hands. But there was something oddly off. His stride, though hidden under a limping shuffle, was too calculated. T
