The Tyrant Billionaire

It wasn't just Cohenheim and Prizzi who were shocked by the fighter jets, even the bodyguards on the rooftop were stunned. They had never expected the jets to actually open fire.

Looking down at the shattered bodies, the burning cars emitting thick smoke, it was no different from the battlefields they had experienced before.

But soon, excitement surged through them, a rush of heat flowing through their veins. This was their security company, working under such a boss—It was worth it!

The performers inside the conference room had been terrified, cowering on the floor, thinking a war had broken out.

Once things calmed down, the group leader cautiously approached the window and peeked out, seeing that all the gangsters had disappeared, leaving behind only a few bodies and wrecked cars.

"What on earth happened?"

At that moment, the bodyguards came down from the roof, startling everyone. Only when they realized it was their own security did they relax.

"What just happened?" the group leader asked.

"It was fighter jets. Our security company sent fighter jets and scared off the gangsters," one of the bodyguards said excitedly.

Everyone in the room was stunned.

Fighter jets? Did the boss really have jets at his disposal? What kind of boss was this?

The bodyguard, feeling proud, added, "Of course we have jets. Hardy's first company was HD Security, and now we don't just have bodyguards. We've got fighter jets, tanks, and even warships."

Everyone was shocked.

This wasn't a security company—this was practically a military!n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Monroe, with tears still clinging to her long lashes, blinked her wide eyes. She had cried in fear earlier, but hearing that Hardy had sent jets to protect her, a sense of security washed over her once again.

At that moment, many realized just how extraordinary their boss was.

Everyone rushed to the windows.

What they saw was utter devastation, the aftermath resembling a battlefield—chaos and destruction everywhere.

Some of the girls were so frightened by the sight that they quickly backed away.

Just then, the jets flew by once more, passing over the street. Seeing that the enemy was gone, the pilot tilted the plane and looked toward the window, giving a thumbs-up before pulling the jet into the sky.

"That was so cool!"

One of the girls, Sunny, exclaimed as she watched the jets disappear.

The other girls shared the same sentiment. The jets had saved them in the nick of time. But Monroe felt differently from the others—she felt like it was Hardy himself who had come to her rescue.

The two P-51 Mustang fighter jets landed at the Houston airport.

HD Airlines had already submitted their flight request in advance, so as soon as the planes landed, workers rushed over to refuel them.

At the same time, several passenger planes landed at Houston Airport.

HD Logistics had received orders earlier, and a fleet of trucks and cars was already waiting.

A squad of men in black HD Security uniforms disembarked from the planes, each carrying large bags. Their expressions were cold as they boarded the waiting vehicles.

With fighter jets involved and so many people dead, the police could no longer sit idly by.

Prizzi had also called the police chief, urging him to clean up the scene quickly.

By now, night had fallen.

The police finally arrived, along with ambulances and body bags. They were experts at cleaning up crime scenes, and in no time, the area was spotless, as if nothing had ever happened.

As for Monroe and the others, no one came to question them.

About half an hour later, a convoy of buses pulled up outside the hotel. Under the protection of more than a dozen security guards, the entire troupe boarded the buses and headed for New Orleans overnight.

They arrived in New Orleans just after 11 p.m., where accommodations had already been arranged. Hardy had contacted the local Mafia family, who helped secure a hotel for them. The terrified women finally had a place to rest.

But they couldn't sleep.

They were too excited.

In groups of threes and fives, they gathered to discuss everything that had happened.

"Why did all this happen today?"

"I heard one of Houston's gang leaders wanted to take Monroe out for dinner, but she refused. Our bodyguards intervened, and things escalated from there."

"That was so terrifying! Those gangsters were really scary."

"Actually, our big boss is the most amazing. Did you see the people he sent? HD Security is way more powerful than those gangs."

"Yeah, they even have fighter jets! The boss must have incredible connections. Do you think he's in the military?"

"I heard the boss sells weapons to the military, so he probably has connections."

"Do you think Monroe is the boss's woman? Otherwise, why would he get so angry and send fighter jets to take down those gangsters?"

"What's there to wonder about? If she is, she is. I wish I could be the boss's woman, but unfortunately, he's out of my league."

"Last time I flew on Hardy's private jet, I realized how young he is. He's only in his late twenties, so handsome, so manly, and so rich. He's still not married yet—he's practically the perfect bachelor."

At that moment, the "perfect bachelor" Hardy was in New Orleans, being hosted by the head of the Marcelo family.

It wasn't their first meeting. The Marcelo family had long been allied with Hardy, and they even held shares in the Venetian Hotel, making them solid business partners.

"So, Hardy, how do you plan to deal with this situation?" Marcelo asked.

"The Cohenheim Gang and Cohen Heim must be eliminated. What I'm thinking about now is how to divide up the territory and business they'll leave behind," Hardy replied calmly.

In just a few words, Hardy had decided the fate of Cohen Heim and his gang.

Marcelo couldn't help but think that perhaps only Hardy had the power to make such statements now. His own family certainly didn't have the strength to simply wipe out the Cohenheim Gang like that.

This made it clear that their mafia families were now far behind Hardy in terms of power—there was no way they could challenge him.

Fortunately, Marcelo had chosen to be Hardy's friend early on.