The Rise Of The Orphan Billionare

Chapter 3: From Cell To Salvation

The ride to the station felt like a funeral procession, only the body in the coffin was Nelson himself. Each bump of the police van rattled through his bones, reminding him that his world had collapsed in just a few hours. His chest tightened with every thought —Rachael’s betrayal, Kyler’s smug grin, the fire, the screams. But most painfully, Racheal’s betrayal. After everything he had done for her. 

It was over!

A bitter thought sliced through him: ‘At least Kyler will never forget me now. He’ll carry that scar forever. A reminder that I wasn’t as weak as he thought.’ he scoffed.

But that small satisfaction crumbled under the weight of his heartbreak. Tears ran down his cheeks, hot and heavy. Each drop felt like a stolen memory —late-night talks under the stars, promises whispered in secret, laughter that once healed his pain. All of it had been lies. All of it —nothing but a cruel joke played on a poor boy who had dared to dream.

Nelson’s fists clenched against the cuffs. ‘Why am I even alive? What use am I to this world?’

He had no father, no mother, no family but an old, fragile grandmother. The thought of her broke him more than anything else. He wasn’t entirely afraid of prison. He was afraid of her crying alone, wondering what had become of her grandson. When she sees the news of her boy being dragged out of the school premises like a criminal. 

Soon, the car pulled up to the police station. Nelson was dragged out of the car like he was a notorious criminal. 

Inside the station, bright fluorescent lights burned his eyes as he was shoved into the interrogation room. A single table, two chairs, and a camera staring coldly from the corner —it was less a room and more a cage.

The officer across from him smirked as though the verdict had already been signed. “Son, we’ve seen enough. Start talking. Why did you attack Kyler Park?”

Nelson leaned forward, eyes burning. “Sir, I’ve said it —I didn’t start the fight! Every single day that bastard has bullied me, humiliated me, and pushed me around. I defended myself, that’s all!”

The officer tapped a tablet and turned it to face him. A video played. Nelson’s fist colliding with Kyler’s jaw, again and again, Kyler falling back, glass shattering, chaos erupting.

The video cut off there.

The officer’s smirk widened. “That’s not self-defense. That’s attempted murder. And now the whole city’s seen it. Congratulations, kid—you’ve gone viral.”

Nelson’s shoulders slumped. He stared at the table, lips pressed tight. The evidence was twisted, cut, and edited. The truth buried under angles and silence.

The officer leaned back, his tone almost mocking. “Do you even understand whose son you touched? Kyler Park. His father is the wealthiest man in this city. He owns half of what you see around you. Hospitals. Restaurants. Construction firms. He is even the manager of your school. And you? Who are you?”

Nelson’s jaw tightened. His voice was sharp, bitter. “A nobody who kicked his ass.”

The officer blinked, caught off guard. Nelson’s voice rose, fierce now, raw.  “I don’t fear him. I don’t fear any man. I know what I did. And I know you all know the truth too —that Kyler has been a parasite to that school since day one. But if you want to bury me because I’ve got no father to bribe you, no family name to scare you, then fine. Do it. Just…” His voice broke, softer now. “…just look after my grandmother when I’m gone.”

The room fell silent for a heartbeat. For a second, the officer almost looked human. Almost. But the flash of guilt in his eyes was gone as quickly as it came.

Orders were orders.

Mr. Park had already wired enough money to keep Nelson rotting. More than the officer’s two years’ salary could ever dream of.

“Five thousand dollars,” the officer finally said coldly. “That’s your bail. Pay it or rot here. Your choice.”

Nelson laughed bitterly. “Five thousand?” He shook his head. “I scrub toilets for five bucks an hour. I can’t even afford clean shoes, and you’re asking me for five thousand?” He let out a harsh breath, his laugh collapsing into a choke. “Guess I’ll get used to rats for roommates.”

Minutes later, the iron door slammed shut behind him.

The smell hit first —urine, mold, and sweat soaked into the concrete. The floor was damp, the air suffocating. He sat on the cold floor, wondering what would happen the next day and the day after that and the day after that. Eventually, he was going to have to learn how to stay in prison. This was his new life now, his new home, and the rats that ran past him twice would be his new roommates.

He closed his eyes. This was it. His life. His new home. A boy who gave everything, now reduced to nothing.

He wasn’t even allowed to talk to his grandmother, to keep her calm so that he could let her know he was okay  and not  worsening her case 

Nelson sat slumped in the corner of the cell, his body drained, his spirit shattered. His thoughts circled endlessly: Grandma… I’m sorry. This is it. I’m never walking out of here again.

At some point, exhaustion dragged him into a restless sleep.

Hours later, the clang of iron keys jolted him awake. The same officer who had interrogated him earlier now stood at the bars —only this time, his face was pale, his voice trembling with something Nelson had never heard before. Respect.

“Mr. Nelson Cassius,” the officer said carefully, almost bowing his head. “You’ve been released.”

Nelson blinked, confused. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. This man had called him trash just hours ago. Now Mr. Cassius? Hardly anyone ever used that name —not even his grandmother. And the man looked like he had seen a ghost. He looked scared, his eyes widened. 

He pushed himself up slowly. “Me?”

“Y… yes, sir. You’ve been bailed.” he stammered. 

Bailed? Nelson’s mind spun. By who? Robby? Miguel? No —they could never afford it. Grandma? Impossible.

His chest tightened as he stumbled into the officer’s office. The same man who had barked at him earlier now looked nervous, even deferential.

“There’s… someone waiting for you outside,” the officer explained. “He was the one who bailed you.”

Nelson froze. Someone? But who? He had no relatives. No father, no mother, no uncle to come to his rescue. He was alone. Always had been.

So why now?

As he stepped out of the station, the night air hit him, cool and sharp. That was when he saw him.

A man stood by the entrance, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a navy-blue suit tailored so perfectly it looked poured onto him. His trousers broke just right over polished black leather shoes that gleamed like glass. A single black glove covered his left hand, while his right rested lightly on a sleek walking stick.

Beside him idled a black Mercedes-AMG ONE, its engine purring like a restrained beast. The streetlights glinted off its flawless paint. Nelson knew expensive cars. Kyler’s flashy sports rides were toys compared to this. This was what real men drove. Cars so expensive that only five of these models were manufactured.

The man’s presence was not loud —but heavy. Authority radiated from him like cold fire.

Nelson’s throat went dry. This guy… he’s not ordinary. Could he be the one who…

The man’s voice cut the silence, deep and calm, carrying effortlessly in the night air. “Nelson Cassius?”

Nelson swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.”

What happened next nearly knocked the breath out of him. The man bowed low —no, he prostrated before him.

Nelson’s eyes widened. “W-wait, what are you doing? Don’t… please don’t do that!” He panicked, dropping to his knees to stop him. “You’re the one who saved me. I should be thanking you!”

The man’s head snapped up, his voice suddenly sharp. “Stop it, please! Young Master, do you want me punished?!”

Nelson froze. Young Master?

For a terrifying second, he thought this was another setup, another humiliation from Kyler —an elaborate prank designed to crush him further.

But the man’s tone was too real. His eyes, unwavering.

“I know you’re confused, Young Master,” the man said, rising slowly, his voice lowering into something almost reverent. “There are many explanations to make. But first, please —come with me. The Master himself will be glad to see you, after ten years of searching.”

The words sank like stones in Nelson’s chest. Ten years… searching? For me? What the heck was going on? Was this another Meganovel story?

His steps faltered as the man gently guided him toward the waiting Mercedes. But then clarity struck like lightning. Nelson yanked his arm back.

“No.”

The man blinked. “Sir?”

Nelson’s eyes burned with suspicion. “I’m not stepping into that car. I don’t know you. I don’t know this ‘Master.’ For all I know, this is just another trick —another way to destroy me.”

The man —Tony, as Nelson later learned— straightened, his jaw tightening as if restraining impatience. “Young Master, please. Don’t doubt. The Grandmaster has waited far too long for this day. He would be overjoyed to finally lay eyes on you.”

But Nelson shook his head, every muscle in his body taut. “I’m not going. Not until I know who the hell you people are, and why you’re calling me that.”

And the night hung heavy, silence stretching between the poor boy and the man who spoke like destiny itself.