Chapter 19: Aurora Heights (3)
The silence stretched.
Victor Cross's eyes bored into Nolan. His voice was sharp, demanding.
"I asked you a question. Who are you?"
Nolan sat frozen. His mind raced. His heart pounded.
'System. Talk to me. Why doesn't he know me? At Vellmar Tower, the manager knew immediately. The papers appeared. Everyone knew. What's happening?'
The system responded instantly.
[Ownership Transfer Protocol: Upon acquisition of property, the system sends official notification to the property manager via email and fax. Notification includes new owner's name, photograph, and market value details.]
Nolan's eyes widened slightly. 'Email and fax? So he has it. He just hasn't checked.'
[Confirming: Victor Cross, General Manager of Aurora Heights, received ownership transfer notification at 4:32 PM today. Unread.]
Nolan let out a slow breath. 'He didn't check his email. That's why he doesn't know me.'
Curiosity hit him, and he asked the system, 'What's the market value of this hotel? How much is it worth?'
[Aurora Heights Five-Star Hotel — Grayport City's Only Five-Star Hotel]
[Floors: 13]
[Rooms: 200]
[Amenities: Rooftop pool, five restaurants, conference halls, spa, private dining floors]
[Market Value: $47,000,000]
Nolan's breath caught. 'Forty-seven million dollars. This hotel is worth forty-seven million dollars.'
His heart was pounding. But not from fear anymore. Not from confusion.
Confidence flooded back into his chest like a wave.
He straightened in his chair. His shoulders squared. His chin lifted. His hands, which had been clenched under the table, relaxed. He placed them flat on the table, palms down, claiming the space in front of him.
Victor Cross was still watching him. His patience was wearing thin.
"I don't have time for this," Cross said. He turned to Chad. His voice was firm, authoritative. "Mr. Harlan, I'm going to call the police. This man will pay for the damages. He'll be arrested for assaulting my staff. He'll—"
"Why should I pay for damages at my own property?"
Nolan's voice was calm. Low. It cut through the room like a knife through silk.
Everyone turned. Every head swiveled toward him. Every pair of eyes landed on his face.
Chad laughed. A loud, mocking laugh that echoed off the shattered screen and the broken glass. "Your property? Your property? Did you hear that? He thinks he owns Aurora Heights. He thinks a broke orphan who couldn't buy his girlfriend a proper ring owns a five-star hotel."
More laughter from the classmates. Nervous, but real. Some of them exchanged glances. Some of them shook their heads. A few whispered to each other behind their hands.
Victor Cross frowned. His expression was somewhere between confusion and irritation. He looked at Nolan like he was looking at a child who had wandered into a place he didn't belong.
"Mr.—whoever you are. I don't have time for games. You're going to—"
Nolan stood up.
The chair scraped against the floor. The sound was deliberate. Controlled. He didn't push it. He didn't rush. He rose slowly, smoothly, like a man who had all the time in the world.
He looked at Victor Cross. His eyes were steady. His voice was low, calm, but carried absolute confidence.
"I think you don't have a habit of checking your mail regularly, Mr. Cross."
Cross blinked. "What?"
"Your email. The fax that came in today. You haven't checked them, have you?"
Cross's face shifted. Confusion. Then something else. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. His posture changed, just slightly. The confidence in his stance wavered.
"I receive dozens of emails every day. Hundreds, sometimes. I don't have time to check every single—"
Nolan's voice dropped lower. It was quiet now. Almost a whisper. But everyone in the room heard it.
"I can fire you, Mr. Cross."
The room went silent.
Not the nervous silence from before. Not the tense silence of a fight. A different silence. The silence of a room full of people who had just heard something they didn't understand but somehow knew was important.
Cross stared at him. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out.
"What?" His voice cracked on the word.
Chad stepped forward. His face was red. His voice was loud, frantic, desperate. "Are you listening to this? He's crazy. He's threatening you. Just call the police. Call them now! What are you waiting for?"
Cross didn't move. He was looking at Nolan's face. At the way he stood. At the absolute certainty in his eyes. At the way his hands rested on the table like it already belonged to him.
His hand moved slowly to his pocket. His fingers fumbled slightly. He pulled out his phone.
He opened his email.
His thumb scrolled. Past promotions. Past newsletters. Past old conversations. Past messages from last week, last month. His thumb moved slower with each swipe.
Then he stopped.
His face went pale. The color drained from his cheeks like water from a cracked cup.
The email was from the hotel's legal department. Forwarded to him at 4:32 PM. The subject line was bold. Unmissable. It had been sitting in his inbox for hours, unopened, unread.
URGENT: OWNERSHIP TRANSFER — AURORA HEIGHTS FIVE-STAR HOTEL
He opened it.
His eyes moved across the screen. The words were there. Clear. Official. Stamped with the hotel's seal.
Property: Aurora Heights Five-Star Hotel, Grayport City
New Owner: Nolan Drake
Ownership Type: Full and Complete
Transaction Value: $47,000,000
Effective Immediately.
And below the text, a photograph. Nolan's face. The same face that was looking at him now. The same calm eyes. The same steady expression.
The phone slipped from his fingers.
It hit the floor with a crack that echoed through the silent room.
Victor Cross stared at Nolan. His face was white. His hands were trembling at his sides. His lips moved, but no sound came out for a moment. Then—
"You—" His voice cracked. He swallowed hard. "Are you Mr. Drake?"
Chad stepped between them. His voice was loud, frantic, almost screaming. "Why are you asking him that? Why are you giving him respect? He's nobody. Yes, he is Nolan Drake. He's just some orphan from my class. He has nothing. He is nothing. Arrest him! Make him pay for the screen! Make him eat jail food!"
Cross didn't move. His eyes were still on Nolan. He didn't even glance at Chad.
Chad grabbed his arm, shaking it. "Did you hear me? He's Nolan Drake! That's his name! Nolan Drake! Now do something! Call the police! Call security! Call—"
Cross slowly pulled his arm free. He didn't look at Chad. His eyes never left Nolan's face.
He walked toward Nolan.
His steps were measured. Careful. Each footfall deliberate. When he reached Nolan, he stopped. He stood there for a moment, looking at the young man in front of him. The young man in simple clothes. The young man who, an hour ago, he would have dismissed as nothing.
Then he bowed. Deep. Low. His back curved. His head dropped.
"Mr. Drake. I apologize. I didn't check my email today. I didn't know. I didn't—" His voice shook. His hands were still trembling. "I'll deal with this. All of this. The damages. The staff. Everything. I'll handle it personally. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. I'll—"
Chad's mouth fell open. His face was white now. White with disbelief. White with something else. Fear.
"What? What are you doing? Why are you apologizing to him? He's nobody. He's—"
Cross straightened. He turned to Chad. His voice was steady now. Professional. But there was something else underneath. Something cold. Something final.
"Mr. Harlan. The ownership of this hotel changed hands this evening. Mr. Drake purchased it for forty-seven million dollars. Full market value. Cash transaction. He is the owner. He owns this building. He owns this room. He owns everything you see here. The destroyed furniture. The broken screen. The guards lying on the floor. Even the plates you ate from. Every single thing in this building belongs to him."
The room went silent.
The whispers stopped. The laughter died. Every face in the room was frozen. Every pair of eyes was fixed on Nolan.
Someone whispered from the back, voice trembling, "Forty-seven million?"
Another voice, barely audible, "He bought the whole hotel? The entire building?"
"Drake? The broke orphan? The guy we made fun of? He owns this place? He owns Aurora Heights?"
Chad's face was pale. His mouth moved, but no words came out. His hands hung limp at his sides. His shoulders had dropped. He looked small. Smaller than Nolan had ever seen him.
Lila sat at the table. Her hands were in her lap, gripping each other so tight her knuckles were white. Her face was white.
'He bought a hotel? Nolan? The same Nolan who couldn't afford a decent meal? The same Nolan who wore the same clothes every day? The same Nolan I left because he had nothing? Because Chad had more?'
Her chest tightened. Her stomach churned.
'Forty-seven million dollars. He owns Aurora Heights. The hotel Chad rented to show off. The hotel Chad bragged about all night. The hotel Chad said his father had connections to. It's Nolan's. It's always been Nolan's. Chad rented Nolan's hotel to humiliate Nolan.'
She looked at Chad. His confidence was gone. His smirk was gone. His voice was gone. He looked small. Weak. Like a balloon that had been popped.
She looked at Nolan. He stood in the center of the room, calm, steady, untouched by the chaos around him. His clothes were simple. His face was calm. But he stood like a man who owned everything his eyes could see.
Her stomach twisted. 'What did I do? What did I throw away?'
Nolan didn't look at her. He didn't look at Chad.
He looked at Victor Cross.
"Make everyone leave. Now."
Cross looked at Nolan. His voice was respectful, careful. "Everyone, Mr. Drake?"
Nolan's eyes moved across the room. Past the overturned tables. Past the broken glass. Past the frozen faces of his classmates. Past Chad's pale, trembling figure. Past Lila's white, hollow face.
He raised his hand. He pointed.
"Everyone except that one girl."
Every head turned. Eyes followed his finger.
Chad's face twisted. A desperate smirk tried to form on his lips, a last attempt to regain control. "Oh, I see. After all that, you still want her. Still begging for Lila to take you back. Still—"
Lila stepped forward. Her face was hopeful. Relieved. A small, trembling smile touched her lips.
'He still wants me. After everything. After Chad. After what I did. He still—'
Nolan's voice cut through the room. Cold. Final. Like a door slamming shut.
"Not you."
Lila froze.
Her feet stopped mid-step. Her smile vanished. Her face went from hope to confusion to something else. Something that looked like the ground falling away beneath her feet.
Nolan's hand didn't move. His finger was still pointing. But now, everyone could see where he was pointing.
Not at Lila.
Past her.
At the back of the room. Near the window. Where a girl sat alone. Her glasses perched on her nose. Her dark hair pulled back in a simple tie. Her face half-hidden in the shadows, away from the chandeliers, away from the attention.
She hadn't moved since the chaos started. She hadn't screamed when the screen shattered. She hadn't run when the guards fell. She had just sat there, watching. Quiet. Still. Present.
Yuna Hale.
The room turned. All eyes on her.
She sat perfectly still. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her. Her face was calm, but her cheeks were pink now, the color rising slowly from her neck to her forehead. She hadn't moved. She hadn't spoken. She had just watched. And now everyone was watching her.
Lila's face crumpled. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. She stepped back, her legs unsteady, her hands shaking at her sides.
'Not me. He didn't choose me. He chose her. The nerd. The quiet one. The one nobody notices. The one I never even looked at. He chose her over me.'
Nolan walked across the room.
The broken glass crunched under his shoes. The overturned chairs scraped against the floor as he stepped around them. The classmates parted as he passed, their eyes following him, their whispers dying in their throats.
He stopped in front of Yuna.
She looked up at him. Her eyes were dark. Intelligent. Behind her glasses, he could see the faint blush on her cheeks. Her hands were still folded on the table. She didn't look away.
He extended his hand.
His voice was low, calm, yet clear enough for everyone in the room to hear. The words carried across the silent space like stones dropped into still water.
"Can I take you out… now? On a date."
The room held its breath.