The Billionaires Deadly Sniper

Chapter 2

Fourteen Years Later. Present Day, Santiago, Chile

“Algunos de nosotros tenemos trabajo que hacer…”

Zoe whispered the words softly, repeating them over and over until the Spanish rolled naturally off her tongue. Each syllable had to be perfect. Each pause is deliberate. She needed to sound flawless to disappear into her disguise.

Today was not just another mission. Zoe had one objective: kill Victor Alaric Kane.

Victor wasn’t just any man. He was a presidential candidate, a billionaire, and one of the top investors in Onyx Holdings… a corporation so powerful it controlled multi-trillion-dollar assets across the globe. Monarchs, governments, and some of the richest families in the world trusted Onyx to move their wealth in silence.

Onyx owned stakes in everything: banks, tech giants, oil pipelines, luxury real estate, and global media empires. But Victor had made one mistake: he'd challenged the Onyx CEO over the upcoming presidential seat of the company.

If Victor won, the balance of power inside Onyx would shift forever. His policies threatened too many billionaires, too many monarchs, too many untouchable figures who preferred the shadows.

Now, they wanted him gone.

Zoe had been preparing for this night since the moment she accepted the contract. Half her payment was already sitting offshore the other half would come only when Victor Kane stopped breathing. She knew the risks, Victor was no ordinary man.

He traveled with layers of protection, bodyguards, secret agents, private security teams, and even armed military escorts. Every step he took was monitored, every entrance controlled.

But Zoe wasn’t ordinary either.

She was smarter, faster, and deadlier than anyone guarding him could imagine.

Her reflection stared back from the cracked mirror, transformed beyond recognition. The disguise was perfect. She wore the wrinkled latex mask of Janet Morales, a sixty-two-year-old cleaner at Onyx Holdings Headquarters. The mask’s details sagging cheeks, faint liver spots, tired wrinkles were flawless.

She adjusted the gray uniform and checked the old woman’s employee ID dangling around her neck.

Janet Morales wouldn’t be coming to work anymore.

Zoe had practiced Janet’s Spanish accent for weeks, memorizing her exact phrases, breathing patterns, and voice breaks. She’d studied everything the way Janet walked, the way she coughed, even the way she sneezed. While Janet lay unconscious, Zoe had perfected her mimicry… and then, without hesitation, shot her dead before she could blink.

There was no room for guilt in Zoe’s world.

She picked up the small mirror again, double-checking the mask’s fit one last time. A satisfied smile curved her lips. Perfect.

Reaching for her Glock, she attached the silencer with steady hands, slid the weapon into her bag, and zipped it closed. Then she lit a cigarette, inhaled twice, and exhaled slowly, letting the smoke curl around her face before crushing it out.

Showtime…

ONYX Holdings Headquarters towered above Santiago like a fortress of glass and steel, its sharp edges cutting into the night sky. The building’s mirrored surface reflected the glow of city lights and the chaos below. Armed security patrolled the marble steps leading to the main entrance, scanning IDs and watching everyone who entered.

Zoe hunched her shoulders, slowed her pace, and shuffled forward like an old woman burdened by age.

“Buenas noches, abuela,” one of the guards teased, smiling faintly. “Running late again, huh?”

Zoe coughed lightly, keeping her head down. She didn’t reply.

Another man in a dark suit walked past, carrying a stack of documents toward dispatch. At the sight of her, he smiled politely.

“Evening, Janet,” he greeted.

She ignored him and kept walking, bending her back slightly to mimic Janet’s frail posture. Every movement was calculated. Every gesture is precise.

Three soft sneezes, followed by a dry cough Janet’s signature rhythm. Zoe had perfected it.

From behind, the first guard called out jokingly, “The cigars and pills aren’t helping, huh?”

“Just leave it,” she rasped without turning.

Inside, the headquarters buzzed with controlled chaos.

Holographic campaign posters of Victor Alaric Kane covered every wall, his sharp blue eyes following her wherever she moved. His election slogan lit up in bold silver letters:

“The Future is Secured.”

The air was thick with urgency. Dozens of employees worked frantically at their desks, typing on keyboards, sorting through towering stacks of files, answering nonstop calls. Others carried folders so large they seemed ready to collapse under the weight.

Zoe’s sharp gaze swept across the room, noting every camera, every guard, every potential blind spot. Armed personnel stood stationed at every checkpoint, scanning IDs and bags as if expecting an invasion.

This wasn’t just a company,It was a fortress.

But Zoe was ready. She had rehearsed every step, memorized every corridor, and secured the perfect access to the cleaner’s full-level security ID. The card dangling on her chest was her passport to restricted floors.

Her first objective wasn’t Victor.

Not yet.

Hannah Velasquez Victor’s personal assistant had to die first. Removing Hannah would destabilize his daily movements, force him out of his predictable patterns, and make him vulnerable.

The second target, Mr. Smith Kane, Victor’s younger brother, wasn’t on her original list. But tonight, fate had placed him exactly where she needed him to be inside Hannah’s office.

Through the glass corridor ahead, Zoe caught a glimpse of them. Smith leaned casually against Hannah’s desk, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his tie slightly loose. Hannah, elegant as always, sat on the edge of the desk, leaning closer than she probably should.

Their quiet laughter floated faintly into the hallway, the kind that belonged to two people who believed they were safe. They had no idea how wrong they were.