The Billionaire's Mistake

MISTAKE 189

Chapter 189: Old Master Madison Meets Martin

"No, please! You can't do this!" Martin continued to beg, his words tumbling out in a desperate torrent. "Name your price. I'll pay whatever you ask; just let me go!"

The men acted as if they couldn't hear his pleas, With cold efficiency, they grabbed Martin's arms and shackled him to the damp stone wall. The chains clinked ominously as they secured the restraints, biting into Martin's skin.

"I...I have powerful friends," Martin stammered, his eyes wide with terror. "They'll move heaven and earth to find me. You're making a huge mistake!"

One of the burly men smirked cruelly before producing a dirty rag. He shoved it into Martin's mouth, muffling his frantic words. Martin choked and sputtered, panicking, seizing his body.

With a sinister laugh, the men turned and exited the cell, the door slamming shut with a booming finality. The sound of the lock engaging was like a death knell to Martin's ears.

Alone at last, Martin wept openly behind his gag. His shoulders shook with sobs as the reality of his nightmarish situation crashed over him in waves. The cell seemed to close in around him, the shadows taking on distorted, menacing shapes. He strained against the chains, but they refused to give. His wrists already felt raw and abraded from his futile struggles.

What horrors awaited him here? Would he ever see the light of day again? The questions swirled incessantly through his mind.

As the hours ticked by, Martin's throat became parched. He longed for even a sip of stale water to wet his cracked lips. He was tired; he leaned back against the cold stones, letting his eyes

slide shut...

The dank, musty air of the underground cell assaulted Martin's senses as he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes straining to adjust to the dim lighting that flickered ominously overhead.

The throbbing in his head served as a cruel reminder of the ordeal he had endured, and the weight of the restraints that bound his wrists and ankles filled him with a sense of dread unlike anything he had ever experienced before. "Please, let me go!" He cried out, his voice echoing off the cold, unforgiving stone walls that surrounded him. The words seemed to hang in the stale air, mocking his desperation. "I'll do anything you want; just don't hurt me!"

of approaching footsteps sent a chill racing down his spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand

for the worst, his heart pounding against his rib cage with such

emerged from the shadows, and Martin's eyes. widened in recognition. It was Old Master Madison, a name that carried weight and commanded respect in their circle-a name that struck fear into the hearts of even the mos hardened

mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead. "Martin Jones," Old Master Madison spoke at last, his

109 Old Muster Mizon Meets

advised against it. In fact, I had planned to give her to

presence overwhelming. "I want her out of Richard's life, and I expect you to make

out all else. "I'll do my best, sir, but my nieces... they hate me.

word I say.

sardonic smile played across Old Master Madison's lips, sending a shiver coursing down Martin's

to make sure

they going

produced a sleek smartphone and dialed a number. Martin held his breath, his chest tightening

false sweetness that made Martin's stomach churn. "Your

to me," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I've been captured, and they want Emma to leave her husband, Richard. You have to contact her and beg her to do as they say. They'll let me

a knife. "Then they should kill you," she spat, her words laced with venom. "How can a father not protect his nieces?" You should sacrifice

though the ground had opened up

fought back the tears that stung his eyes, threatening

utter another plea, the line went dead, and Old Master Madison pocketed the phone, his

his voice dripping with disdain. "Your own Nieces care nothing for your well-being. They would sooner see you dead than

shoulders slumped

through the cell as he turned to leave,

chance, Martin. Make it count, or suffer