Billionaire: Money and Power

A New Target

Lagos never slept.

Neither did the ones hunting Joshua.

The failed attack at the Monarch Club wasn't the end—it was just the beginning. The Order wouldn't let it slide. They'd strike back, harder, faster.

But Joshua wasn't waiting.

He was making the first move.

A Meeting in the Shadows

Tunde parked the SUV in a dark alley behind an old warehouse. The smell of oil and rust filled the air, and the flickering streetlights barely held back the night.

Inside, Zainab stood over a beaten man tied to a chair. Blood dripped from his nose, his lip split open. One of the assassins from the club. The one Joshua let live.

Now he was their informant.

Joshua crouched in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. "Talk."

The man hesitated.

Zainab sighed, pulled out a knife, and drove it into the wooden armrest next to his fingers.

The man flinched.

"They—they're planning something big," he stammered. "They know you won't hide. So they're not sending more assassins."

Joshua tilted his head. "Then what?"

The man swallowed hard.

"They're targeting your businesses. Your people."

Silence.

Tunde cursed under his breath. Zainab's grip tightened on the knife.

Joshua?

He just smiled.

"Let them try."

Fire in the Streets

They didn't wait long.

The attack came that night.

Joshua's main club—Zenith—erupted in flames. Explosives planted at the entrance, detonated just as the place filled up.

Screams. Panic. People scrambling to escape as fire swallowed the walls.

Tunde's voice crackled over the earpiece. "They hit Zenith! Heavy damage!"

Joshua tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

He was already on his way.

A City in Chaos

By the time Joshua arrived, the street was packed with onlookers. Flames painted the night sky orange. Firefighters struggled to contain it, but the damage was done.

His club.

His empire.

Under attack.

Zainab jumped out first, scanning the crowd. "They're still here," she muttered. "Watching."

Joshua nodded. Of course, they were.

The Order wanted him to react. To get angry. To make a mistake.

But they didn't understand him.

Joshua didn't get angry.

He got even.

Hunting the Hunters

It didn't take long to find them.

Three men, blending into the crowd. Watching too closely. Wearing the wrong expressions—satisfaction, not fear.

Joshua moved before they noticed.

A quick step. A hand on a shoulder.

The first man turned—too slow.

Joshua's fist slammed into his gut, folding him in half. Before he hit the ground, Joshua caught his collar, dragging him into a nearby alley.

The second man reached for a weapon—Zainab was faster.

A knee to the ribs. An elbow to the jaw.

He crumpled.

The third tried to run.

Tunde tripped him.

The man hit the pavement hard.

Joshua crouched next to him.

"You set the fire?"

The man spat blood. Smiled. "The Order sends its regards."

Joshua didn't smile back.

Instead, he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted.

A sickening crack.

A scream.

Joshua leaned in. "Tell them something for me."

The man gasped, shaking. "W-what?"

Joshua's voice was calm.

"I'm coming for them."

A Declaration of War

The Order thought they could break him.

They thought taking his businesses, his people, would shake him.

They were wrong.

By morning, the city was talking.

The Order's men—three of them—found strung up in an alley. Alive, but broken. A message carved into the wall behind them.

"NOT HUNTED. HUNTER."

It wasn't a warning.

It was a promise.

Joshua was coming.

And Lagos would never be the same.