Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

The girl leaned forward, fully interested now.

"Alright," the old man started, "let me ask you something. You ever notice how every rich asshole wants a Rolls-Royce?"

She frowned. "I mean, yeah. It's like, billionaire starter pack."

He grinned. "But is it the best car?"

She blinked. "I thought it was?"

"Nah, sweetheart." He shook his head. "The best cars? We make 'em."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Wait… like—"

"The private, custom ones." He smirked. "Ones that cost more than most people make in a lifetime. One of a kind. Only for the people who matter."

She whistled low. "That's kinda baller."

"Damn right, it is." He flicked his reins. "And it ain't just cars. Jets, yachts, even the suits those billionaires wear? We either own it, design it, or fund the people who do."

She grinned. "So, basically, we make sure the world's elite stay pretty."

"Exactly." He chuckled. "And charge them a fortune for it."

She tilted her head. "Is that it?" She'd been hearing her old siblings talk about more, she knew most of this too but the crafty young lady enjoyed her grandfather seeing her surprises when he told her stories and that was her way of getting more info.

His smirk deepened. "Nope. We got oil too."

She immediately stiffened. "Wait—actual oil? Like, the real money?" She didn't know the scope of thier venture oil but her sister said it was huge.

The old man nodded. "Mhm. Quietly, though. Most of our shares? Hidden. No one outside the Five even knows we own a piece of the game."

Her mind spun. "…So we're richer than we look?"

He grinned. "That's the point." To sum it up; the Wilders ae usually whispered as the giants of luxury automobiles, private aviation, high-end fashion, oil, and secret holdings.

The girl sighed dramatically. "Alright. Next."

The old man's face soured instantly. "The fucking Ashfords."

She snorted. "Wow, Grandpa. Great language for a kid my age." She hated them too but the old man's grudge was deeper.

"Oh, please," he waved her off. "Like you haven't heard worse."

She grinned. "True."

He exhaled through his nose, gaze darkening slightly. "Anyway you see... the Ashfords don't just own the media, kid. They own perception."

Her grin faded. "…Like, brainwashing?"

"Like controlling the goddamn truth. They run the news, the social media, the movies, the books. If you hear it, see it, or read it? They had a hand in it."

She shuddered. "That's… creepy."

"Oh, kiddo," he smirked darkly. "That ain't the worst part."

She stiffened. "What's worse than that?"

He looked her straight in the eye. "They tried to kill me. Twice."

She groaned. "Grandpa, I know the story. You've told me ten times."

He grinned. "And I'll tell you ten more. 1980, New York. I was barely outta my twenties, barely on top of the world. Stepped out of the club, felt the cold air on my face—then? Bang, bang, bang."

She sighed, repeating along with him. "A hit squad opened fire. You hit the ground, thought it was over, and then—"

He pointed at her, proud. "Val yanked me into an alley."

She smirked. "And took out all the shooters."

"Damn right." The old man nodded. "Val saved my ass that night."

She rolled her eyes fondly. "You never shut up about that."

He laughed. "And I never will."

Then he leaned in slightly. "But that wasn't the only time."

She blinked. "Wait… What?"

He smirked. "Couple years back. Car bomb. Would've got me too—if it weren't for Bishop."

Her eyes nearly bugged out. "BISHOP?! As in your bodyguard, Bishop?!"

"The very same." He nodded. "Saved my ass again. Bomb was planted under my car, but he caught it before I even got inside."

She stared at him. "And you never told me?!"

He shrugged. "You were busy with ballet lessons."

"GRANDPA."

His laughter boomed through the open fields.

The old man smirked. "You know, kiddo, for someone who supposedly didn't know about the bomb attempt, you sure do hate the Ashfords."

She stiffened slightly but kept her gaze on the horizon.

He raised a brow. "Why is that?"

Her expression darkened. "…No reason."

His gaze sharpened. "Really?"

She flicked the reins. "Next family."

His smirk deepened. "Oh, it's about that kid, ain't it?"

Her jaw clenched.

He let out a chuckle. "The little king of the next generation. Ashford's young heir."

Her silence was deafening.

His grin stretched wide. "Ohhh, this is good."

She shot him a glare. "Next. Family."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, kiddo. But this conversation ain't over."

She rolled her eyes. "It's so over. Trust me or we will never talk again, let's see who will listen to your stories." She snorted.

His grin widened. This little menace.

Anyway literally the Ashfords were the; Media, Entertainment, Publishing, Communications.

**

From a distance, he watched.

The sun hung low over the rolling fields, casting long shadows as the two figures moved at an easy pace on horseback. The wind stirred the golden grass, rippling like waves in the ocean.

He recognized the way she sat—back straight, arms crossed, tension in her shoulders. Still stewing. A chuckle rumbled from his chest. She's got that fire in her, alright.

Satisfied, he turned away, letting them be.

Her arms were still crossed, a glare fixed on him from the Ashford reveal.

"Alright," she muttered, mood still sour, "who's next?"

The old man smirked. "The Harringtons."

She huffed. "The owners of Texas."

He chuckled. "Try half the damn country."

She froze.

"Real estate, banking, security. If it's got land, money, or secrets, they own it." He nodded toward the vast stretch of land beyond the Wilder estate. "Hell, I'd bet good money they once owned half the ground you're riding on."

Her stomach twisted. "That's terrifying."

"Oh, kiddo." He smirked. "You don't even know the half of it."

Most of Harringtons power were settled in real estate, banking & investments, private security & intelligence and some hand in tech.

The air suddenly grew heavy.

The girl shifted in her saddle. "…Grandpa?"

The old man's voice dropped. "Now, the Morellos?"

She sat up straighter. Something about his tone sent chills down her spine.

"They don't just do crime, kid. They are crime."

Her breath hitched. "Like… Mafia?"

He let out a slow, humorless chuckle. "Oh, sweetheart… The Mafia? The Mafia works for them."

She blinked. "I—what?" That family was that shady?

"The Morellos aren't just some mob family. They run the black markets, the assassins, the cyber networks that control the world's deepest secrets. They don't fear governments—governments fear them."

He continued, eyes on the horizon. "See, the Morellos don't just run the underworld. They built the underworld. Everything dirty—every black market, every assassin, every whispered threat—they have their hands in it."

She exhaled. "Okay, well—how much are we talking here?"

He gave her a sharp look."Ever heard of someone just… disappearing?"

Her stomach tightened. "Yeah?"

"Journalists. Business moguls. Presidents."

She froze. "…Wait. You mean—"

"The JFK from a decades ago?" His smirk was grim. "That wasn't just bad luck, kid. That was them."

Her blood ran cold. "They murdered the President of the United States?"

"They made an example of him when the Beaumonts asked." His fingers tapped against the reins. "Sent a message that even the leader of the free world wasn't untouchable."

She stared. "And nobody did anything?"

He raised a brow. "What could they do?"

She couldn't argue with that.

He leaned in slightly. "You know what's funny?"

She swallowed. "…What?"

"That wasn't even the messiest job they've done."

She let out a strangled laugh. "Oh, fantastic. Good to know."

He smirked. "And guess who hired them a while back?"

Her heart dropped. "No."

"Oh, yes." His eyes gleamed darkly. "The Ashfords."

She gripped the reins. "Those fucking idiots."

He chuckled. "Thought they could buy the devil and not get burned."

She shook her head. "Let me guess. The job failed."

His grin widened. "Spectacularly and if I must add... Purposely. And you know what happens when you waste the Morellos' time?"

"…You die?"

"Oh, worse, kid." He leaned back. "You become a loose end."

Her stomach twisted. "…So what happened?"

"The Morellos cut all ties with the Ashfords, buried their operatives, and made sure the Ashfords would never, ever forget who really runs the underworld. The arrogant family thought they could order the Morellos around with enough money, maybe they thought they were Beaumonts and the Morellos made sure they never forget it."

She let out a breath. "Damn."

He nodded. "Damn, indeed."

Silence stretched between them for a beat. Then—

"…So we're just letting them exist?"He gave her a long, knowing look.

She paled. "Oh."