Billionaire's Retribution

Chapter 2: The Lion in Chains

The clang of the prison gates was louder than any courtroom gavel, louder than the jeers of the crowd that had watched Richard Williams fall.

The sound carried finality. A billionaire was no longer a man of suits and power, he was just another number. “Move it,” the guard barked, shoving Richard forward.

The corridor smelled of rust and sweat, walls scarred with years of violence. Prisoners leaned against their bars, watching, hungry-eyed. Some sneered, others whistled mockingly.

“Well, well,” one inmate called, his voice rough with laughter. “Look what we got here. Mr. Billionaire himself.”

“Hey, Richie,” another jeered, “you still got those millions? Maybe you can buy us all better beds.”

Laughter ricocheted down the hall, sharp as knives. Richard kept his head high. He would not give them the satisfaction of breaking him, not yet.

The guard led him to a cell. The metal door screeched as it opened. Inside, two men already occupied the narrow space, tattooed, scarred, and staring at him like wolves sizing up fresh prey.

“Home sweet home,” the guard sneered, shoving Richard inside. The door slammed shut with a final echo.

For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then one of the men, a towering brute with a shaved head, grinned. “So this is the big shot. The fraudster.”

Richard met his gaze evenly. “Believe what you want.”

The second man, wiry but dangerous, chuckled. “Doesn’t matter. You’re ours now.”

Night came hard. The cell reeked of sweat and damp stone. Richard tried to rest on the thin mattress, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Daniella’s cold eyes haunted him, May’s cries twisted like knives in his chest. “Daddy, don’t go!”

He turned, burying his face in his hands. His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. I will come back for her.

A shadow loomed. The brute stood over him. “Got something for you, rich boy,” he muttered.

Before Richard could move, a fist smashed into his ribs. Pain exploded, stealing his breath. He staggered, clutching his side.

The wiry one laughed, kicking him down. “Welcome to the real world, billionaire. Money don’t mean nothing here.”

Blow after blow rained down, fists, boots, knuckles hardened by years of survival. Richard curled to protect his head, but pain seared through every bone.

“You think you’re better than us?” the brute snarled, dragging him up only to slam him against the bars. “You think your money makes you untouchable?”

Richard coughed, blood spattering his lips. “No…” he rasped. “My mind does.”

The wiry one sneered. “What’d he say?”

Richard’s vision blurred, but a fire burned beneath the agony. They want me broken. They want me finished. But I won’t give them the satisfaction.

Another punch split his brow, blood trickling down his face. The guards didn’t interfere. One even smirked from the corner. To them, this was entertainment.

By the time they were done, Richard lay crumpled on the floor, chest heaving, body screaming with pain. Every breath was a battle.

The brute spat on him. “Welcome to your new kingdom, king of frauds.”

They retreated to their bunks, laughing. Richard lay still, tasting blood, vision swimming. Darkness pressed against him, cold and merciless.

Maybe this is it, a cruel voice whispered in his mind. Maybe Daniella won. But then, her voice came again. Not Daniella’s. May’s. Daddy, don’t go.

His heart clenched. He forced his swollen eyes open, dragging air into his lungs. “Not yet,” he whispered to the stone floor. “I can’t leave her yet.”

And in the silence, bleeding and broken, Richard Williams smiled a broken smile. They thought they’d beaten him. But the lion was only chained.

The morning bell shattered the silence like an executioner’s hammer. Richard groaned as he forced himself upright, every muscle screaming.

Blood had dried stiff against his shirt, his left eye swollen nearly shut. The bruises on his ribs burned with each breath.

The brute and the wiry inmate stretched lazily on their bunks, grinning down at him. “Still alive, huh?” the brute muttered. “Guess money makes you tougher than you look.”

The wiry one sneered. “Don’t get too comfortable. Around here, you’re just meat.”

Richard dragged himself onto his cot, wincing but keeping his voice steady. “Meat rots. Lions don’t.”

The wiry one frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Richard’s eye glinted. “It means I’ll survive this place. Longer than either of you.”

The brute barked a laugh. “You’ve got spirit. Shame it won’t last.”

The cell door clanged open. A guard stepped inside, baton tapping against his palm. “On your feet, Williams. You’ve got orientation.”

Richard staggered up, leaning heavily on the wall. The guard’s lip curled in amusement. “You don’t look so rich now.”

Richard met his gaze evenly. “You don’t look so powerful either. Without that baton.”

The guard’s face darkened, but he only shoved Richard forward. “Walk.”

The prison yard was a pit of humanity, men pacing like caged animals, gangs clustered in corners, tattoos and scars telling silent stories of survival.

Richard felt every eye turn toward him. The billionaire. The fraudster. Fresh meat. Whispers spread fast:

“That’s him. The rich guy.”

“Thought he’d buy his way out.”

“He won’t last a week.”

Richard kept walking, shoulders squared despite the pain. Fear was blood in the water here. He wouldn’t bleed it.

A tall, wiry man approached, flanked by two others. His presence commanded respect, an inmate leader, clearly. His voice was calm but sharp.

“So you’re the famous Williams,” he said, studying him like a puzzle. “The one they say stole billions.”

Richard’s lips curled faintly. “They say a lot of things.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look scared.”

“Should I be?” Richard asked.

The man chuckled. “Smart mouth. Careful, it’ll get you killed. But…” He leaned in, voice dropping. “I can smell it on you. You’re not just another soft-handed fraud. You’re dangerous.”

Richard held his stare. “And you’re observant.”

The man’s grin widened. “I like you. Name’s Stone. You ever need to breathe another day in here, you come to me.”

Richard inclined his head slightly. He didn’t trust him, but he filed the name away. Allies, even in hell, were currency.

That night, back in the cell, Richard lay awake while the others snored. His body throbbed with pain, but his mind was sharper than ever.

He replayed Daniella’s smile, Leonard’s laughter, May’s cries. Over and over, the betrayal cut deeper than any blade.

He whispered into the darkness, voice low and steady. “You think you’ve buried me. But you’ve only given me time. Time to plan. Time to sharpen my claws.”

A shadow shifted in the corner. The brute stirred, half-asleep. “Who the hell you talking to, rich boy?”

Richard’s swollen lips curved into a smile. “My future.”

The brute snorted and rolled over. Richard closed his eyes, clutching May’s memory like a lifeline. He could endure the fists.

He could endure the humiliation. What he could not endure, what he would never accept, was losing her forever.

I’ll crawl through fire if I must. I’ll bleed until there’s nothing left. But I will rise. And when I do, Daniella, you will learn what it means to betray a man who has nothing left to lose.

He let the darkness swallow him, but this time it did not consume him. It forged him. The next morning, the guards escorted Richard to the work line.

Chains clinked at his ankles as they shoved picks and shovels into the inmates’ hands. Sweat and dust choked the air. “Dig,” the guard barked.

Richard bent to the earth, every muscle screaming. The sun burned his bruises, the shovel bit into blistered hands.

But each stroke of the shovel was a vow. Each bead of sweat was a reminder. Each heartbeat whispered a name. May.

Stone passed him, muttering just loud enough to hear. “You’ll break if you don’t learn the rules. Watch and learn, Williams. Watch and learn.”

Richard didn’t answer. He only dug, his mind calculating, cataloging faces, voices, weaknesses. Because prison wasn’t his end. It was his classroom.

That night, in the dark silence of his cell, Richard whispered a single sentence. Not a prayer, Not a plea. A promise. “I will rise.”

And when he did, the world would remember.