Chapter 11: Penthouse
The couple froze at the door.
They turned around slowly.
The woman's face was red. The man's jaw was tight.
"What did you say, kid?" the woman demanded.
Nolan looked at them. Calm. Steady.
"I said, you won't even be able to rent a single flat." He paused. "You deaf woman?"
The words landed like a slap.
The woman's face twisted. Her designer bag swung as she stepped forward, but her husband held her back.
He pointed a thick finger at Nolan. "Who do you think you are? Some broke college kid playing dress-up?"
Nolan said nothing.
The husband turned to the receptionist. His voice boomed across the marble lobby.
"Throw him out! Right now! Or we're leaving!"
The receptionist's face went pale. She looked at the husband—expensive suit, angry face, money. Then she looked at Nolan—old jeans, wrinkled shirt, cheap shoes.
Her decision was instant.
She straightened her back and pointed toward the door.
"Sir," she said to Nolan, her voice shaking slightly. "You have to leave."
The couple smiled. Proud. Arrogant. Victorious.
Nolan didn't move.
He looked at the receptionist. Then at the couple. Then back at the receptionist.
"Why should I leave from my own property?"
Silence.
The smile on the couple's faces cracked. Confusion replaced arrogance.
The husband laughed. But it was nervous now. Uncertain.
"You?" He pointed at Nolan. "You own this property? This building?"
The woman joined in, her voice shrill. "Look at you. Look at your clothes. You can't even afford a decent shirt, and you expect us to believe you own Vellmar Tower?"
Nolan said nothing.
The husband turned to the receptionist. His confidence returning.
"Call your manager. Right now. And throw this clown out."
The receptionist grabbed the phone. Her hands were trembling.
She pressed a button. Spoke quickly.
"Sir? There's a situation in the lobby. A young man is causing trouble. He won't leave. And the buyers for the penthouse are very upset. Can you come down?"
A pause.
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
She hung up and looked at the couple. "He's coming right away."
The woman crossed her arms. "Good."
The husband nodded. "We'll see how long this kid's attitude lasts when the manager gets here."
Nolan stood perfectly still. His face showed nothing.
They have no idea.
A minute passed. Two.
Then the elevator at the far end of the lobby opened.
A man stepped out. Mid-fifties. Gray hair at the temples. A perfectly tailored black suit. Gold watch on his wrist. Confident stride. The kind of man who had been in charge for a long time.
The manager.
The couple's faces lit up.
"Finally," the woman muttered.
The manager walked toward them. His eyes scanned the lobby quickly. Professional. Efficient.
Then his eyes landed on Nolan.
Something changed in his face.
His steps quickened. Not toward the couple. Toward Nolan.
He stopped right in front of him. Extended his hand.
"Good morning, sir!" His voice was warm. Respectful. "Are you Mr. Drake?"
Nolan blinked.
'How does he know my name?'
Then he realized.
The system. It must have planted the information.
He simply nodded.
The manager's smile widened. He shook Nolan's hand firmly.
"I'm Richard Hayes, building manager for Vellmar Tower. It's an honor to meet you, sir. We received the ownership transfer documents this morning. Everything is in order. Congratulations on your new property."
The lobby went silent.
The couple's faces drained of color. The woman's mouth fell open. The husband's eyes went wide.
The receptionist looked like she might faint.
The manager turned to the couple. His professional smile was still there, but cooler now.
"Was there something I can help you with?"
The woman opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Her voice came out weak. Broken.
"Umm... Mr. Drake." She forced a smile. It looked painful. "We're so sorry. We didn't realize. Please accept our apologies. We were rude. Very rude."
The husband stepped forward. His arrogance was gone. Replaced by desperation.
"We're very interested in the penthouse, Mr. Drake. Very interested. We're prepared to pay top dollar. Whatever the asking price is, we'll match it. We can discuss terms right now."
Nolan looked at them.
The same people who had mocked him five minutes ago. Who had tried to have him thrown out. Who had laughed at his clothes.
Now they were behaving in front of me.
The woman pushed harder.
"We can go up to three million, Mr. Drake. Three million dollars. Cash. For the penthouse. That's above market value."
Three million dollars.
Nolan's brain calculated automatically.
Three million. That's more than I've ever dreamed of. That's a lifetime of work.
He thought about it. Three million dollars in his bank account. No more worries. No more struggles.
But...
He looked at the couple. At their fake smiles. At their desperate eyes.
'They mocked me. They tried to humiliate me. They wanted me thrown out like garbage.'
'And now they want to live in MY building? In the best apartment? With the pool and the view?'
He shook his head slowly.
"No."
The woman blinked. "No? Three million, Mr. Drake. That's a lot of money."
"I know."
The husband stepped forward. "Three point two million. Final offer."
Nolan looked at him.
His lips curve upward, he said, "No means no. The penthouse is not for sale."
The woman's face twisted. All pretense of politeness vanished.
"This is ridiculous! You're just a kid playing dress-up!"
The husband grabbed her arm. "Let's go."
He pulled her toward the door. At the entrance, she turned back one last time. Her eyes were furious.
The door closed behind them.
Silence.
The manager cleared his throat. "Excellent decision, sir. The penthouse will generate far more income as a rental. Would you like to see the property now?"
Nolan nodded. "Yes."
The elevator ride took thirty seconds.
The doors opened directly into the penthouse.
Nolan stepped out.
And stopped breathing.
The living room was massive. Open concept. Floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. The morning sun poured in, painting everything in gold.
White sofas. Glass tables. Abstract art on the walls. A fireplace that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Everything was modern. Clean. Perfect.
But the view.
The view.
Nolan walked to the windows. Slowly. Like in a dream.
Grayport City spread out beneath him. Buildings stretched in every direction. Cars moved like tiny toys on the streets below. The river wound through the city, catching the sunlight. Hills rose in the distance. The sky was clear blue, endless, reaching as far as he could see.
He had never been this high before. Never seen the world from above.
'This is mine.' The thought gave him a small, warm feeling in his stomach.
The manager's voice came from behind. "7500 square feet, sir. Four bedrooms. Six bathrooms. A home theater. A private gym. And of course..."
He walked toward a glass door. Opened it.
"The terrace. And the pool."
Nolan stepped outside.
The terrace was enormous. Wooden decking beneath his feet. Comfortable lounge chairs arranged around. A covered dining area with a wooden table. Plants and flowers in elegant pots.
And the pool.
Infinity edge. Stretching toward the sky. The water was so clear it seemed to merge with the horizon. If you swam to the edge, it would look like you could swim right into the clouds.
Nolan stood there. The wind touched his face. The sun warmed his skin.
For the first time in his life, he felt like he was living.
Not surviving. Not struggling. Not hoping for something better.
Living.
He turned to the manager.
"Don't sell any flat. Rentals only. No matter what anyone offers."
The manager nodded. "Understood, sir."
Twenty minutes later, Nolan walked out of the building.
This time, everyone noticed.
The security guard at the door straightened. Nodded. "Good morning, sir."
The maintenance worker sweeping the entrance stepped aside. Smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Drake."
A young woman walking her dog glanced at him. Then did a double take.
Nolan heard the whispers.
''' That's him? The owner? He looks so young.'''
He walked toward his bike.
Behind him, the small group of staff watched.
One of them—a young maintenance guy—leaned toward the manager.
"Sir? The owner... rides a bike?"
The manager smiled. A knowing smile.
"When you're rich enough, my boy, you can ride a bicycle if you want. Money doesn't change what you ride. It changes who you are."
The staff nodded. Understanding.
They watched as Nolan put on his helmet. Swung his leg over the bike.
'Two days ago, I was nobody. An orphan with nothing. Now I own a building worth millions.'
He looked back at Vellmar Tower. The glass and steel gleamed in the morning light.
If this is what I get in two days, then this is just the start.
He turned the key. The engine hummed beneath him.
'I need to get used to this. I can't be the weak Nolan anymore. The scared Nolan. The broke Nolan.'
He took a deep breath.
That Nolan is gone.
He was about to ride off when—
[DING!]
The system flashed in front of his eyes.
Nolan froze.
[You refused to sell a high-value asset despite a tempting offer of $3,000,000.]
[Special reward being calculated...]
Nolan stared at the screen.
'Another reward? For saying no?'
He smiled.
"This system... it really rewards everything."