The Rise Of The Quintillionaire

Chapter 1

The heat hit Alex Carter like a solid wall of iron.

He was lying on his back on the cold concrete floor, but the air around him felt like a hot oven. High above his head, the old wooden ceiling of the warehouse was on fire. Red and orange flames licked the thick wooden beams. Bright yellow sparks fell down from the dark roof like a rain made of burning fire. The sound was deafening. The fire roared like a hungry wild animal, snapping and popping as it ate through the dry walls.

Alex tried to move his legs, but he could not. A massive wooden support beam had snapped and fallen from the ceiling. It had crashed directly onto his lower body. The wood was black, rough, and covered in bright red embers. The crushing weight pressed down hard on his left leg. He felt the bone snap inside his skin. Pain shot up his spine like a white-hot knife.

"Move... please, move..." Alex gasped to himself.

He placed both of his gloved hands on the heavy beam. He pushed with all the power left in his body. His muscles strained. He gritted his teeth so hard they felt like they would break. But the beam did not move at all. It was far too heavy. The intense heat of the wood burned right through his thick firefighter gloves. The skin on his palms began to blister and peel, but he barely felt it over the sharp agony in his leg.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

A high-pitched, screaming sound broke through the roaring noise of the fire. It was the low-oxygen alarm on his yellow air tank. Alex looked down at the small meter on his chest with weak, blurry eyes. The red needle was sitting completely at zero. There was no clean air left in the tank.

He was breathing nothing but empty air.

With shaking fingers, Alex ripped the cracked glass mask off his face. The moment the mask came off, thick black smoke rushed into his nose and mouth. The air was poisonous. It tasted like ash, burned rubber, and melted plastic.

Alex closed his eyes and choked violently. He coughed until his chest burned. His throat felt like it was full of hot needles. Every time he tried to take a breath, more black smoke filled his lungs. His vision began to darken around the edges. Tiny black spots danced in front of his eyes. His head felt very heavy, and his heart pounded wildly inside his ribs like a trapped bird.

The warehouse was falling apart around him. Large metal shelves crashed to the ground, scattering heavy boxes everywhere. The air grew hotter and hotter. Alex knew what was happening. His body was shutting down. He was losing the fight. He was going to burn alive, alone in the dark.

Tears of pain and fear ran down his dirty face, cutting clear lines through the thick black soot on his skin. He thought of his home. He thought of his life. Most of all, he thought of his wife, Lisa. Was she outside? Was she safe? Did she make it out before the roof began to fall? He prayed to God that she was far away from this nightmare.

Then, through the thick, swirling wall of gray smoke, Alex saw something.

A figure was standing near the large front doors of the warehouse. The bright light of the growing flames danced behind the silhouette, making it stand out against the darkness. It was a slender shape. It was a woman.

Alex blinked hard, trying to clear his blurry eyes. He pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring the terrible pain in his crushed leg.

The figure stepped through the haze of smoke. The orange firelight caught her face for just a second.

It was Lisa.

Her long brown hair was tied back, and she wore her dark green coat. She was right there, standing only twenty feet away from him.

A massive wave of relief washed over Alex. The cold grip of terror around his heart suddenly vanished. A surge of hope filled his entire chest. He was not going to die. His wife had come back for him. She had found him in the dark.

Alex coughed, his voice raspy and desperate. "Lisa! Over here! Thank God... Lisa, I'm trapped! Please, help me!"

He reached his arm out into the smoky air, lifting a hand covered in black soot and wet red blood. His fingers trembled as he stretched them toward her.

"The beam... it's on my leg!" Alex cried out, his voice shaking with desperate hope. "I can't move it! Please, find something to pry it off!"

Lisa took a step forward. But then, she stopped.

She did not run to him. She did not scream his name. She did not look around the burning room for a tool or a metal bar to lift the heavy wood. She just stood there in the middle of the smoke, watching him struggle on the floor.

Alex blinked, confused. Why was she not moving? Why was she looking at him like that?

"Lisa?" he whispered, his raspy voice full of fear.

Before Lisa could answer, a second, taller silhouette emerged from the thick smoke behind her. The man moved slowly and quietly out of the shadows. As the flames jumped high into the air, the yellow light lit up his face.

It was Marcus Vance.

Marcus was Alex's business partner and long-time friend. He was a man Alex had known for over ten years. They had built their company together from nothing. Alex had invited Marcus into his home for family dinners. He trusted Marcus with his money, his business, and his life.

Marcus wore a dark black coat. He did not look scared of the fire. He was not coughing. He looked completely calm and cold, as if he were standing in an empty room instead of a burning building.

Marcus reached out his hand. He grabbed Lisa firmly by the arm, pulling her back from the wreckage.

Alex stared at them, his mind spinning in total confusion. What was Marcus doing here? Why was he holding Lisa's arm like that? Why were they standing so close together?

Marcus’s cold voice, echoed over the flames. "Leave him. The fire will take care of the rest. We need to go."

The words echoed off the burning brick walls of the warehouse. They hit Alex harder than the falling beam had.

His breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to stop moving. The loud roar of the roaring fire faded away, replaced by a terrible, loud ringing sound in his ears.

“No,” Alex thought, his mind screaming in denial. “No, this is a mistake. This is not happening.”

Alex pleading, reached out a bloodied hand. "Lisa... don't..."

He stared at his wife. He waited for her to push Marcus away. He waited for her to scream at Marcus to help her husband. He waited for her to run to him, to grab his hand, to give him any sign that she loved him. He waited for a single tear to fall from her eyes.

In the final, agonizing moment, Lisa stopped moving.

She did not pull her arm away from Marcus. She did not shout. Instead, she slowly turned her head over her shoulder. She looked down at Alex, making direct, chilling eye contact with him through the heat and smoke.

Alex looked deep into her eyes, searching for his wife.

There was nothing there.

Her eyes were completely cold. There was no fear on her face. There was no sadness. There was no panic, no love, and no mercy. Her expression was like a wall of solid ice. It was the face of a cold, distant stranger.

In that single, terrible second, the horrible truth hit Alex like a thunderbolt.

The fire was not an accident. The locked exit doors were not a mistake. Marcus was not here to rescue him.

They had done this to him together. They wanted him to die in this building.

The woman he had loved for seven years, the woman he had sworn to protect, was watching him burn. And she was happy to let it happen.

Silence fell between them, stretching out for one agonizing second as Lisa held his gaze. She did not say a word. She did not need to. Her cold, empty eyes said everything.

Slowly, with no emotion on her face, Lisa turned her head away. She turned her back on Alex. She placed her hand gently over Marcus's hand on her arm. Together, they turned around and walked away, stepping out into the safety of the cool night air.

They left Alex alone in the burning hell, closing the heavy steel doors behind them with a loud, final crash.

"LISA!" Alex screamed.

It was a raw, broken sound that tore through his bleeding throat. It was the scream of a man whose whole world had just been destroyed. But no one answered. Only the roaring flames laughed back at him.

The betrayal was far worse than the burning heat. The fire was destroying his body, but the look in Lisa's eyes had destroyed his soul. His chest felt hollow and cold, even as the flames licked at his arms and clothes.

Above him, the main timber of the roof cracked open.

CRACK!

A massive section of the burning ceiling broke loose. Tons of heavy wood, flaming metal sheets, and red-hot debris began to fall straight down toward his face.

Alex closed his eyes. He had no strength left to push. He had no air left to breathe. He let his bloodied hand fall heavily onto the hot concrete floor. He was ready for the dark to take him. He was ready to let the fire end his life.

The falling roof rushed down, bringing a wave of blinding white fire right toward his head.

Then, just as the fiery wreckage was about to crush him into ash, something strange happened.

The solid concrete floor beneath Alex's back suddenly gave way.

With a loud, heavy CLANG, a hidden iron trapdoor beneath his body popped open.

Before the burning roof smashed onto the floor, Alex fell backward into total darkness, dropping straight down into a cold, hidden space beneath the warehouse.

As the burning roof crashed shut above the hole, sealing out the fire, a rough, unknown voice whispered out from the pitch-black shadow beside him:

"Hold your breath, Carter. You're not allowed to die yet."