BETRAYED ONCE: FROM NOTHING TO BILLIONIARE POWER

Chapter 9: Hotel

The woman behind it was young with blonde hair. Her perfect makeup matches the perfect smile resting on her lips. She was the kind of woman who'd never been told no in her life.

The smile flickered when she saw him, then died completely.

"Can I help you?" she asked, in a polite tone, one that came with a ‘please leave’ hidden underneath.

"I'd like a room," Ryan said.

The blonde receptionist blinked, and behind her, the other receptionists exchanged surprised glances. One of them, a brunette with sharper eyes, leaned forward.

"I'm sorry," the blonde said, "but are you lost? The shelter is three blocks east. I can call you a cab if you—"

"I'm not looking for a shelter." Ryan's voice was calm. "I'm looking for a room."

The blonde's smile froze behind Ryan; the whispers started.

“Did you see this guy?” a client muttered. “What is he doing here?

“Someone should call security. He looks dangerous.” Another voice followed.

“Dangerous?” another voice chuckled. “He looks homeless.”

Ryan heard every word, and he allowed them to wash over him but said nothing.

The blonde straightened her posture. "Sir, the Selene is a five-star establishment. Our lowest room rate is twelve hundred dollars per night. I don't think—"

Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out the black card. He laid it on the counter and the sound it made was tiny, insignificant. But in the sudden silence of the lobby, it might as well have been a gunshot.

The blonde stared at the card, and her mouth dropped open.

Behind Ryan, the whispers changed.

“Is that… No way. That's not real," a voice whispered. 

“Look at him, and look at that card. There's no way.”

“A black card? That guy?" Please," another voice followed.

The blonde's eyes flicked from the card to Ryan's face and back. Her perfect composure was cracking. "I... this is... we need to verify if—"

"Then verify it," Ryan said quietly.

A man stepped forward from the crowd. He wore an expensive suit, which was assisted by a gold watch. His face wrinkled like he'd been eating lemons his whole life.

"This is ridiculous," he spat. "That card is clearly fake. Anyone can see—"

The blonde reached for the card. Her fingers touched it. Picked it up. Felt its weight. The weight was wrong for the fake. The weight was heavy.

Her expression changed.

Behind her, a door opened. A woman emerged from within. She was in her late forties, with dark hair that was pulled back. The tailored suit didn't catch Ryan's attention; rather, the nametag did.

‘Elena Voss, General Manager.’

"What's going on here?" Her voice was calm but carried authority that made the whispering crowd quiet.

The blonde straightened. "Ms. Voss, this gentleman..." She struggled to be more careful with her words. “Presented this card and I was about to—"

Ms. Voss took the card for her and examined it. She held it up to the light, then ran her thumb across the edge. Her eyes flicked to Ryan, taking in the clothes, shoes, and face that didn't match the card.

She adjusted her gaze to the back of the card. "Run it," she said quietly.

The blonde's face went pale. "But—"

"Run it."

The blonde took the card with a nod and then swiped it through a terminal. She typed in something and waited. After a few seconds the machine beeped.

The blonde stared at the screen with her face pale as white. "I…it's valid," she whispered.

The crowd behind Ryan went dead silent.

The man in the gold watch stepped back, with his face reddened. Someone coughed, and someone else muttered something Ryan didn't hear.

Ms. Voss's expression shifted. A fraction of a degree, but Ryan saw it. 'Respect,' maybe. Or at least acknowledgement.

"Sir," she said, her voice now warmer. "I apologize for the confusion. The Selene welcomes you. How may we assist you?"

Ryan looked at the pale blonde face, then at her trembling hands.

"I'd like a room," he repeated.

"Of course,” Ms. Voss nodded smoothly. "We have several suites available. The executive suite is eight thousand per night. The presidential suite is fifteen thousand dollars. Both come with full amenities and—"

"The penthouse," Ryan said.

The silence that followed was absolute. Ryan could feel it pressing against his ears. The weight of forty people holding their breath.

Ms. Voss's eyes widened. "Sir," she said carefully, "the penthouse is one hundred thousand dollars per night. With a seven-night minimum."

Ryan didn't blink. "Then book it."

Someone in the crowd gasped. "One hundred thousand per night?"

“I can't believe it!” another voice followed.

The man in the gold watch looked like he'd swallowed something poisonous.

Ms. Voss recovered quickly. "Of course, sir. For seven nights, that's seven hundred thousand dollars. We'll need to authorize the card for the full amount and—"

"Then authorize it."

Ms. Voss nodded to the blonde, who fumbled with the terminal. Her hands shook as she swiped the card again, then typed the amount and waited for the result. She didn't dare look at Ryan now.

Beep.

"Authorized," she let out a shaky breath.

The word rippled through the crowd like electricity. People who'd been whispering about Ryan moments ago now stared at him with something else entirely. Awe? Fear? Respect? It didn't matter. What mattered was the shift.

Ryan looked at the pale blonde face and the sweat on her forehead. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"One more thing," he said quietly.

Ms. Voss leaned forward. "Anything, sir."

Ryan's gaze didn't move from the blonde. "Her."

The blonde's face went white. Not pale but white. The color of paper.

"What about her?" Ms. Voss asked.

Ryan's voice was calm, cold, and the same tone Zoula had used when she'd said you were useful.

"She asked if I was lost,” Ryan began, and he watched as the girl's leg went jelly. “She suggested I go to a shelter and called security before verifying my card. I saw her reach for the button under the desk, and if I'd been anyone else, anyone without this card, she would have had me thrown out."

Ms. Voss's expression hardened. She looked at the blonde, who looked like she might collapse.

"Sir, I apologize for—"

"I don't want an apology." Ryan's voice didn't change. "I want to know if someone with her attitude is really the best person to represent a five-star hotel."

The blonde's eyes instantly filled with tears. "Please, I didn't mean to. I was just…my manager always said to be careful, to watch for—"

"That's enough." Ms. Voss's voice cut like a knife.