BETRAYED ONCE: FROM NOTHING TO BILLIONIARE POWER

Chapter 10: Consequences

She turned to Ryan. "Sir, please accept our sincerest apologies. Your entire stay will be complimentary—"

"I don't need free rooms." Ryan's voice was ice. "I need to know that when I come down tomorrow, I won't be greeted by someone who judges people by their clothes instead of their card."

Ms. Voss nodded slowly. I turned to the blonde.

"Clean out your locker."

The blonde burst into tears, real tears, streaming down her perfect face. "Please! I have bills, I have rent, I have a daughter. I can't lose this job—"

"Should have thought of that before you treated a guest like garbage." Ms. Voss's voice was final. "Security will escort you out."

Two men in suits appeared from nowhere. Took the blonde by the arms. Led her away, sobbing, past the crowd of guests who watched in stunned silence.

No one spoke or moved. The only sound was the blonde's sobbing, fading as she was pushed through the lobby doors.

Ms. Voss turned back to Ryan. Her face was professionally blank, but something flickered in her eyes. Approval, maybe, or wariness.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

Ryan looked around the lobby and the marble floors and at the crystal chandeliers before resting on the people who'd whispered about him minutes ago. They all were silent, avoiding his eyes.

The man in the gold watch was trying to disappear into the crowd, but Ryan caught his eye and held it.

The man looked away first.

"No," Ryan said. "That's enough."

The elevator was paneled in wood so dark it was almost black. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, an actual chandelier, in an elevator. The doors closed with a soft hiss, and Ryan was alone.

The numbers climbed.

1... 5... 10... 20...

Each floor took him higher. Farther from the streets where he'd been beaten. Farther from the bridge where he'd shivered. Farther from the grave where he'd died.

30... 35... 38... 39...

Forty floors, and the elevator slowed to a stop. The doors opened, and Ryan stepped out into silence.

The penthouse occupied the entire top floor. The foyer alone was bigger than his old apartment. Shining marble floors and a table with fresh flowers. A view through floor-to-ceiling windows that made him stop breathing.

He walked forward, slowly, like a man in a dream.

The living room opened before him, and the furniture probably cost more than his mother's entire house. A kitchen that had never been used was filled with all stainless steel and granite. A dining table that could seat twelve.

And the windows from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, the city spread out below like a glittering map, lights twinkling in the darkness. Ryan pressed his hand against the glass. Felt its cold solidity. Looked down at the streets where, hours ago, he'd been nothing.

‘How did I get here?’

The question had no answer. Or too many answers. None of them made sense.

He turned away from the window, and his leg began to explore.

A bedroom with a bed the size of his old room came into view. He shifts his gaze to the walk-in closet bigger than the storage unit where he'd slept. He moved deeper, and a bathroom that made him stop caught his attention.

It had gold fixtures and a shower with multiple heads. A tub you could swim in, and towels so thick and white they looked like clouds.

Ryan walked to the mirror and stared at himself.

A stranger stared back, thinner than he remembered. Cheeks hollow. Dark circles under eyes that had seen too much. A scar on his side where they'd cut him open, still pink, still healing, and still painful when he moved wrong.

A few hours ago, he'd been dead, and he'd been nothing. Now he stood in a penthouse worth more than most people earned in a lifetime, holding a card that could buy anything, owning a company he'd never heard of until tonight.

Zoula would lose her mind if she could see me now. The thought brought a smile to his face. Not a nice smile but something colder.

He turned away from the mirror and approached the shower.

The water was hot and perfect. Ryan stood under it for a long time. , allowing it to beat against his back, shoulders, and face. He watched the water run brown at his feet, grave dirt, street grime, and the remnants of a life that wasn't his anymore.

He washed his hair three times, and his body twice. He scrubbed until his skin was pink and raw, until he couldn't smell the grave anymore, until he felt almost clean.

When he finally stepped out, the bathroom was steam and mirrors and the smell of expensive soap.

Ryan wrapped himself in a robe softer than anything he'd ever owned. He walked back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

The city glittered below him. Forty floors down, people were living their lives. Sleeping, working, and worrying about bills and relationships and tomorrow. None of them knew he existed. None of them knew a dead man had just checked into the penthouse.

Ryan lay back on the bed. The ceiling was high. He thought about tomorrow, the will, and his sister. Katerina, a name he'd never heard until tonight. The Volkovs, who'd destroyed his father and would destroy him too if they could. About Zoula and Christopher, living their lives, thinking he was dead, thinking they'd won.

“They don't know I'm coming,” Ryan muttered.

The thought warmed something in his chest. They don't know he was alive and owns a company that can destroy them.

"They don't know anything." With that thought, Ryan closed his eyes. For the first time since crawling out of the grave, he slept without dreaming.