Billionaire's Retribution

Chapter 4: The Silent Game

The prison library smelled of dust and mildew. Rows of tattered books leaned like drunks against each other, pages yellowed and brittle.

Few inmates ever came here, it wasn’t a place of strength or power. But for Richard Williams, it was a battlefield.

He sat at a wooden table with a chessboard before him, the pieces chipped and mismatched. Across from him, an older inmate with a crooked back studied the board, lips pursed.

“You play bold,” the old man muttered, sliding a bishop.

Richard smirked faintly. “Bold wins. Careless loses.”

The man grunted. “Maybe. But in here, bold makes you visible.”

“I want to be visible,” Richard said softly. “But not predictable.”

The man gave him a sidelong look. “You’re stirring things, billionaire. That’s dangerous.”

Richard moved his queen, trapping the man’s rook. “Dangerous men don’t win because of fists. They win because of patience. Strategy.”

The old man studied him for a long moment, then chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re a strange one. They say Serpent’s got your name on a list.”

“Good,” Richard said flatly. “That means I’m worth noticing.”

The clang of boots announced Stone’s arrival. He leaned against the library doorway, watching Richard without speaking. “You like games?” Stone asked finally.

Richard didn’t look up from the board. “Only the ones I can win.”

Stone’s grin widened. “Then you’ll like what I’ve got for you.”

He gestured, and Richard followed him out into the hall. They walked past peeling paint and flickering lights until they reached the yard again, quieter now under the fading sun.

“You’re smart,” Stone said, stopping near the fence. “Smarter than most here. That’s why Serpent wants you gone.”

Richard folded his arms. “And you?”

Stone’s eyes glinted. “I want to see if you’re worth keeping alive.”

Richard studied him, weighing his words. “You saved me in the laundry room. Why?”

“Because men like you don’t just die quietly. And because I don’t like Serpent deciding who breathes in my yard.”

Richard’s lips curved faintly. “So this is about control.”

Stone chuckled. “Everything is about control.”

Later, in the mess hall, Richard sat at a corner table. Cross and Viper glared at him from across the room, but for once they didn’t move. Serpent’s crew gathered near the center, their whispers sharp as knives.

A younger inmate approached Richard cautiously, tray in hand. His face was thin, eyes nervous. “Mind if I sit?” he asked.

Richard gestured to the seat. “Go ahead.”

The boy sat, glancing around nervously. “Name’s Malik. I heard what you did in the yard. And in laundry. Not many stand up to them.”

Richard studied him. “And why do you care?”

Malik swallowed. “Because Serpent’s crew… they take everything. Favors, food, safety. If you don’t pay, you bleed. I’ve been paying since I got here.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to pay anymore.”

Richard leaned forward, voice low. “Then stop.”

Malik blinked. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” Richard said. “One man alone breaks. But together? That’s harder to kill.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “You’re talking alliances.”

Richard’s tone sharpened. “I’m talking survival.”

From the other side of the hall, Serpent watched. His gaze never left Richard, his expression unreadable. When Malik left the table, Serpent leaned to his right-hand man, the scarred enforcer from the laundry.

“Williams thinks he’s clever,” Serpent murmured. “Let him gather mice. When he builds his little nest, we’ll burn it.”

The scarred man grinned. “When?”

Serpent’s eyes glinted like steel. “Soon.”

The next morning, the yard hummed with its usual chaos. Men pumped iron, argued over cards, or loitered in corners, eyes always sharp. Richard walked with Malik at his side, ignoring the stares that followed.

“You sure about this?” Malik whispered.

Richard kept his eyes ahead. “Fear makes you theirs. Calm makes you dangerous.”

They stopped near the basketball court where three inmates played halfheartedly, their shoes scraping the cracked pavement. Richard gestured toward the bench. “Sit. Watch.”

Malik frowned but obeyed. Minutes later, another inmate, thin, scarred, teeth yellow, approached. “Heard you’re making moves, billionaire,” the man sneered. “Heard you’re building something.”

Richard turned slowly, voice even. “And what have you heard exactly?”

“That you’re gathering rats. That you think you’re safe because Stone likes you.”

Richard’s lip curled faintly. “Safe? No. Smarter than you? Definitely.”

The man’s nostrils flared. He shoved Richard’s chest. “Careful.”

Richard didn’t flinch. “If you want me dead, don’t waste your words. Do it.”

The man froze. The yard hushed, eyes snapping to the confrontation. Malik stiffened beside him.

Richard’s voice cut the silence. “But understand this, if you kill me, Serpent has one less pawn to use. And pawns are replaceable.”

The man faltered, his sneer slipping. From across the yard, Stone barked out a laugh. “He’s got you, rat. Back off.”

The man cursed under his breath, retreating. The yard’s whispers rose, carried by the wind. Malik leaned close, eyes wide. “You just”

“I just showed them I’m not prey,” Richard said quietly.

But later, the cost of that display arrived. In the showers, steam thickened the air, hot water pounding the cracked tiles. Richard scrubbed soap across his bruised ribs, wincing at every touch.

Footsteps echoed. Too many. He turned. Four men stood at the entrance, blocking the way out. Serpent’s scarred enforcer led them, chain coiled around his fist.

Richard’s pulse quickened. “Shame you keep bringing friends,” he said dryly.

The scarred man grinned. “Boss wants you to bleed. Not die. Yet.”

They advanced. Richard grabbed the only thing near, a broken mop handle left against the wall. His grip tightened, breath steady.

The first man lunged. Richard swung, cracking the handle against his arm. The man howled, stumbling back. Another charged, fist raised, Richard ducked, ramming the stick into his gut.

But then the chain came. It whipped across his back, tearing skin. Pain seared through him. He staggered, hitting the tiles.

The enforcer loomed, wrapping the chain around his knuckles. “You’re clever, billionaire. But clever doesn’t matter when you’re crawling.”

Richard forced himself up, blood running down his spine. “You’ll need more than chains.”

The enforcer sneered, raising his arm, The guards stormed in, batons cracking against the walls. “Break it up!”

The inmates scattered like rats, slipping into the steam. The enforcer paused at the door, meeting Richard’s eyes. “Next time, Williams. Next time, you die.”

Then he was gone. Richard slumped against the wall, chest heaving. The broken mop handle clattered to the floor, blood dripping down his back.

But despite the pain, despite the danger, a grim smile touched his lips. Serpent had made his move. And now Richard knew one thing for certain: Serpent feared him enough not to kill him yet.

Which meant Richard had time. Time to build. Time to strike back. That night, lying in his bunk, Richard whispered to himself, so quietly even Cross and Viper couldn’t hear: “I’ll play your game, Serpent. But I’ll rewrite the rules.”