The Tyrant Billionaire

"Let's split into 30 teams. Each team takes a sketch and searches everywhere. Also, check with our associates to see if anyone has seen this person or if he has any accomplices or hideouts here." Henry instructed.

The term "gang associates" generally refers to peripheral forces, including thief gangs, fraud groups, pimping rings, car thieves, and loan shark collectors. Though these individuals might not be powerful, they are unmatched in gathering information.

"No problem." Alan agreed.

The teams began their search, and soon bars, nightclubs, hotels, and even street corners in Miami were swarming with people. The entire Miami underworld knew the Lucchese family was searching for someone named Leo.

People knew that whoever this person was, he was in big trouble.

Victor called an old friend named Charles, a savvy Brit skilled in money laundering. In the past, Victor had Charles handle several checks for him.

"Charles, it's me, your old buddy Victor," Victor greeted casually.

After a brief silence, Charles replied gravely, "Victor, this time you might be in big trouble."

Victor was stunned.

"What do you mean, Charles? What trouble am I in?"

"It seems you don't know. The entire city of Miami is looking for someone named Leo. The Lucchese family is using sketches to ask all their associates about him. The entire Miami underworld is abuzz."

"I have also seen that sketch. It is 90% similar to you. Victor, you are that Leo, right? Who did you scam this time to cause such a big commotion?"

Victor was taken aback.

The Lucchese family? That's a major Mafia family in the US. Miami is their territory. Why did they look for him? He did something in Los Angeles not Miami.

He was just a liar. He really didn't dare to offend the mafia, he knew too well that if he fell into their hands, it would be a fate worse than death.

Noticing Victor's silence, Charles said, "It seems it was you."

"Charles, what's happening now?" Victor asked urgently.

"About an hour ago, the Lucchese family sent out a large number of people, holding sketches, searching for someone named Leo in bars, nightclubs, and hotels. Then they informed all their associates."

"I took one look at the sketch and was sure it was you. I didn't say anything, though. What did you do, Victor?"

Victor stammered, "I... took someone's money in Los Angeles, $100,000."

"Didn't you investigate the background of the other party before you acted?" Charles asked.

"I did. It was an auction company run by two European young women. I didn't find any background." Victor replied.

Charles sighed, "An auction company run by two young women with no visible background. That's the biggest problem. It likely means their background is something you couldn't uncover. From what's happening now, it seems they have significant connections. Given our years of collaboration, i won't say anything, Victor, take care of yourself."

Victor had been in high spirits earlier, having successfully secured $100,000 and with his wife Tracy waiting at home. As long as he exchanged the money in Miami, he could return to a comfortable life.

But things had changed.

Now, he was filled with anxiety and worry.

Who were these people with such influence? Would they find him? The more Victor thought about it, the more concerned he became. Hearing that the Lucchese family was searching the hotels, he quickly dressed up and left the room.

He couldn't stay at the hotel.

It wasn't safe to roam the streets at night, either.

Where could he go?

Charles said the entire Miami underworld was looking for him. Everywhere felt unsafe.

Out of options, Victor had an idea. He found a parked family car, used a small metal piece to open the door, and lay in the backseat to rest.

He had to sleep in a car instead of a hotel.

He needed to leave Miami the next day. It was too dangerous here.

As for cashing the check, it could wait. His life was more important.

Thus, Victor spent the night curled up in the car.

The next morning, he carefully found a cosmetics shop, bought some supplies, and fashioned a makeshift beard in a public restroom after cutting some of his hair. Wearing a hat and glasses, he felt less recognizable and relaxed a bit.

Wandering the streets, he felt paranoid, as if everyone was looking for him. He took a cab to the airport, planning to buy a ticket out of Miami.

At the airport entrance, he noticed several men in black suits scrutinizing everyone entering.

One guy in a hat had his hat forcibly removed, which startled Victor.

He realized these men were likely looking for him. It felt like he had angered the US president.

"$2.5," the cab driver said, turning to Victor.

Victor, too scared to get out, quickly said, "Oh no, I forgot my luggage at the hotel. Driver, take me back to get it."

The driver, happy for another fare, drove off.

Back in Miami, Victor got out, contemplating his next move. Flying was out of the question, and the ports might also have gang members. He didn't want to risk it; he knew gangsters could sometimes be worse than cops.

Victor spotted a relatively new Ford car on the street, a cheap and inconspicuous model. Using his key ring, he quickly unlocked it, got in, and hot wired the car. He drove onto the highway.

Relying on his memory, Victor drove onto the interstate toward Georgia. Once out of Miami, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

A smile reappeared on his face.

"Think you can catch me? Not so easy. I've been on the streets since I was fifteen. This is nothing."

Despite his bravado, he was still scared of their power. He planned to lay low in Boston, wait a year or two for things to cool down, and then cash the check.

He didn't believe the big shots would pursue him for $100,000 for that long.

A few hours later, Victor reached Atlanta. Tired from the previous night's restlessness, he bought new clothes and a suitcase, found a hotel, and took a good shower and rest. The next day, he flew back to Boston.

Meanwhile, Miami was still on high alert, searching for Victor, unaware that he had already escaped.

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM