The Billionaire They Buried

Chapter 8: The First Test

The line to the cafeteria moved slowly. No one spoke to me, but I could feel the stares — every inmate seemed to already know exactly who I was.

"Keep your head up," Daniel said quietly.

"I thought you told me not to look people in the eye."

"I told you not to challenge them. There's a difference." I was learning, every move meant something, every mistake had a price. When we reached the counter, a kitchen worker dropped a scoop of watery oatmeal onto my tray without looking at me, and Daniel leaned in. "Don't eat it yet."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

We were halfway to an empty table near the back when a familiar voice stopped us. "Well... look who's still alive." Briggs, flanked by the same two men from yesterday, all three smiling like they had been waiting for this moment. Daniel sighed. "Ignore him." "I'm trying." Briggs walked over anyway, eyes dropping to my tray. "So this is breakfast for billionaires now?" His friends laughed. "I've eaten worse," I said, and kept my grip steady on the tray.

"I heard your grandfather left you everything," he said, stepping closer. "Too bad you'll never enjoy it." I said nothing. Daniel put a hand on my arm — "Let's go" — but Briggs blocked the way before we could move.

"Nobody's leaving." The room went quieter around us. Even the guards seemed more interested in watching than stepping in. Briggs looked me over. "Tell me something, Hayes. Did your grandfather scream before he died?"

My jaw tightened, and for a second all I could hear was my own heartbeat. He had known exactly where to hit. Without warning he slapped the tray from my hands, and it crashed to the floor — oatmeal splashing across my boots, laughter breaking out around the cafeteria. I stared at the mess, then back at him. He was waiting for me to lose it.

"Nothing to say?" he asked.

"My grandfather taught me something." He folded his arms. "Go on." "He said you should never waste your energy trying to prove yourself to people who've already decided who you are." I stepped in close enough that we were nearly face to face. "I'm not giving you what you want."

For a moment neither of us moved. Then he shoved me hard into the edge of a table, and the room went dead silent. "Come on," he said. "Hit me. You know you want to." My hands curled into fists — one punch, that's all it would take, I could almost feel it landing and then Daniel's warning came back to me. If you fight, you lose.* I made myself uncurl my hands.

Briggs laughed. "I knew it. The billionaire's scared." He turned to the crowd. "This is the man who was supposed to run Hayes Group?" A few people laughed. Most stayed quiet.

I looked him in the eye. "You've mistaken self-control for fear," and for the first time, he didn't have an answer.

"Enough!" A correctional officer — Grant, according to his name tag — pushed through the crowd, and unlike the others he didn't look amused, only irritated. His eyes moved from the spilled food to Briggs, then to me. "What happened here?"

Briggs shrugged. "He dropped his breakfast."

Grant turned to me. "Is that true?" If I said yes, nothing would happen — no one in that room was going to back me up. "It was an accident," I said. Daniel looked at me but stayed quiet. Grant studied my face for a long moment before nodding. "Clean it up. Get another tray." He walked off without another word.

Briggs shook his head. "You had your chance."

"I don't need someone else fighting my battles." Something shifted in his expression — not respect, exactly, but the smile was gone. He stared at me another second, then turned. "Let's go," he told his friends, and they disappeared into the crowd as the noise in the cafeteria slowly came back.

Daniel picked my tray up off the floor and handed it back. "You surprised him."

"I surprised myself."

"You passed."

"Passed what?"

"The first test. Yesterday they saw a rich businessman. Today they saw someone who can control himself." I looked around — the whispers had stopped, a few inmates gave me quiet nods as they passed, others just ignored me entirely. Either way, I wasn't the joke I had walked in as.

We got fresh trays and finally sat down to eat. "You know why Briggs picked today?" Daniel asked. I shook my head. "Because your first week decides everything. Your reputation. If people think you're weak, they'll keep coming after you."

"And if they think I'm dangerous?"

"They'll be careful."

"So where does that leave me?"

"Somewhere in the middle," he said, smiling faintly.

"I've never had to think about things like this. Back home, problems were solved in boardrooms."

"In here, they're solved with fists." He was still chuckling at that when another officer walked in with a clipboard, scanned the room, and stopped on me. "Ethan Hayes." Every conversation in the cafeteria died at once. I stood. "Yes?"

"You've got a visitor."

My heart skipped. "Who is it?"

He checked the clipboard. "Your lawyer."

Benjamin had actually found someone — or maybe this was the name he had given me the day before. Isabella Carter. I knew almost nothing about her beyond what he told me: one of the few lawyers willing to stand up to powerful people. Right now, she might be the only thing standing between me and the rest of my life behind these walls.

Daniel caught the look on my face. "Go. But be careful."

"I will," I said, and followed the officer out, unable to shake the feeling — not quite reasonable, but impossible to ignore — that this meeting was about more than just my case, and that somehow my grandfather had set it in motion long before I ever knew her name.