Chapter 619 Rock Bottom
Owen wiped the sweat from his forehead and slicked back his damp hair, pacing restlessly before looking back at Lily.
After a few moments, he took the initiative to apologize. “Mom, I’m sorry. I lost my temper just now. Don’t take it to heart. As for Peggy and Timothy, I’m only keeping them locked up temporarily. I won’t actually do anything to them. Once we get our passports reissued, I’ll let them go.”
Lily hesitated, clearly unsettled by Owen’s sudden change in tone. But at this point, she had no choice but to play along. Owen still held all the money, and at least he hadn’t abandoned her. He was still the most filial of her children.
In the days that followed, the Saunders residence stayed tightly shut. Every so often, screams and wails could be heard from within. But Owen made sure no one was allowed into the Saunders residence during that time.
Back at school, Yunice was having lunch in the cafeteria, lost in thought. By her count, it was about time Paul’s scheme got exposed. It was time to give the Powell Corporation a little push—to let them uncover the financial discrepancies on their own. For the past six months, Yunice had been stringing Paul along: weekly returns, monthly cycles, irregular payouts. She’d trained him well—he’d gotten used to checking the account at the end of each period. Paul, too impatient to wait, never dared to rush her. Every time he got suspicious, she’d threaten to pull out of the deal entirely. It kept him on edge but obedient.
This time, he waited a full week before checking the account. When he saw the balance was still zero, his breathing turned shallow. Gripping his phone tightly, he tried to calm himself. Maybe it was a delay. Just a little longer.
Midnight came and went. He checked again—still nothing.
Panic hit him like a tidal wave. Paul scrambled, his thoughts in chaos, and immediately dialed the mystery number. The ringing stopped, and he frantically asked, “Hello? Why haven’t I received the transfer? Is there a system issue? Where’s my money?!”
But all he heard was the automated reply of a robotic female voice repeating: “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed…”
Clunk. His phone dropped to the ground, hitting his foot. Paul’s blank eyes suddenly focused. He snatched up the phone, gulped down his dry throat, and frantically started calling again. “I must’ve dialed wrong. It was just a mistake. Try again, just try again and it’ll go through…” He chanted under his breath, redialing.
“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service…”
That same robotic voice echoed in his ears like a recurring nightmare. Paul stood frozen. After several seconds, his trembling hands picked up the phone again. This time, he manually typed in the number, shaking so badly he had to re-enter it multiple times.
“Hello, is this the police?! I want to report a scam! I’ve been defrauded—one hundred billion! You have to get it back for me! Get it back now!” Paul screamed into the phone, nearly blacking out from rage. He gripped the table for support. A hundred billion… His… the Powell family’s hundred billion…
His panicked eyes darted toward the courtyard. No one could know. No one.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, forced himself to stand straight, and swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed with tension. The fear twisting his features made the scar on his face look even more menacing.
“If Wyatt could recover from it, so can I…” Paul muttered, then stormed off to the police station. Back when Wyatt had lost everything, Paul had schemed to trap him in debt. But Wyatt had bounced back. Paul refused to believe he couldn’t do the same.
At the police station…
Paul screamed at the officers, “Aren’t you the police?! What do you mean seven days! You’re supposed to get my money back!” He threw a full tantrum, yelling, pacing, slamming desks—until the officers grew cold and indifferent, simply staring at him. Only then did he finally start to accept the truth.
He stormed out, took a few steps, then spun around to yell at them one last time, “You’d better keep quiet about this! If anyone finds out, I’ll make sure you all pay for it!”
No one responded. They just stared at him in stunned silence. Once he was gone, the officers shook their heads and returned to their work.
“These rich second-gens are all brainless. Even a scam this basic gets them.”
“Yeah, they’ve been spoiled since birth—don’t even understand the value of money. Think the family fortune came out of thin air.”
“Honestly, with the kind of wealth their families built, they could just coast through life. But no, they want to be investors and entrepreneurs—then lose it all. We’ve seen this so many times this year.”
“The scam happened a week ago. That hundred billion’s probably already laundered and out of the country.”
In other words, recovery was a fantasy.
Back in his car, Paul sat alone. He slammed the steering wheel again and again, shouting out his frustration as the horn blared over and over, shrill and grating.