Chapter 9: The Forty-Billion Dollar Revenge
Elena Roger sat across from Ethan, the plush velvet of the chair feeling different than it had only an hour ago. Her mind was a chaotic race of half-formed thoughts, spinning with the sheer speed of the day's events. She couldn't shake the image of Theodore Sterling's gaze in the hallway—the way a man who held the keys to the city's commerce had looked at her with a sudden, terrifying level of respect. It was a look reserved for equals, or perhaps, for those protected by giants. And now, Ethan was speaking of a "job description" change.
"Mr. McCain," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to maintain her professional poise despite the electricity in the air. "Why did you mention a job change? I am... I am happy as the Lobby Manager. Is my service not to your satisfaction?"
Ethan looked at her, his golden eyes—sharpened by the System—softening as they locked onto hers. He reached out, his hand hovering near hers on the table before he pulled back slightly, a subtle gesture of newfound closeness that made her breath catch.
"Elena, I told you to call me Ethan. And your service is perfect. It's the environment that is the problem."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, intimate resonance that seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of her bones. "I heard how Harrison Vance spoke about you. He tried to use your professional dedication as a weapon against your character. He spoke as if you were a 'temporary distraction' who lacked refinement."
Elena bit her lip, a flicker of pain crossing her face. She had spent years building her reputation in a world of sharks, sacrifice by sacrifice, only to have it dismissed by a man like Vance in a few cruel sentences.
"I don't like it when people touch what is mine, Elena," Ethan said. The words sent a shiver down her spine that wasn't born of fear, but of a strange, rising heat. "The thought of buying this hotel... it started as a business move. But when I heard him, it became a matter of revenge for you. If I own the Golden Dragon, you won't have to answer to men like Vance ever again. You won't be a manager; you'll be the one deciding who stays and who goes."
Elena's heart hammered against her ribs. She had never had anyone defend her with such overwhelming, casual power. "You... you would spend billions just because of a few insults?"
"Billions are just numbers, Elena," Ethan replied with a mysterious smile that suggested he held the secrets of the universe. "But loyalty and pride? Those are priceless. Consider this your first promotion."
Upstairs, the executive office felt like a war room. Sterling's phone was a glowing beacon of high-stakes negotiation as the encrypted group chat of the three primary shareholders lit up.
[Sterling]: He wants to buy the whole thing. Every brick. Every share.
[Elder Lu]: Preposterous. The Golden Dragon is a pillar of our influence. We cannot simply discard it for a student's whim.
[Madam Vane]: Be careful, Lu. Remember what I said about 'Worldly Tempering.' If we reject a scion of a Hidden Family, we aren't just losing a hotel; we are inviting a storm. These people don't take 'no' for an answer from 'merchants' like us.
[Elder Lu]: Then we test him. If he is truly a Sovereign Scion, money is nothing to him. We value the hotel at 35 billion, but for him? We start at 50 billion. We set the absolute floor at 40 billion. If he bathes in 40 billion without batting an eyelid, then we know he is who we suspect. If he haggles, he's a fraud.
[Madam Vane]: Agreed. 40 billion is the price of entry into our world. Sterling, give him the figure. If he pays, we sign the papers immediately. It is better to have a friend in a Hidden Family than a building in the city. And also, invite him to 'The Club' if all works out.
Sterling closed his phone, a heavy, complicated sigh escaping his lips. He turned to Harrison Vance, who was standing by the window, looking out at the city as if he were waiting for a death sentence.
"The shareholders have reached a conclusion, Harrison," Sterling said, his voice void of any warmth. "There is a high probability we are selling. And you need to start preparing your exit."
Vance whirled around, his face deathly pale. "Mr. Theodore, you can't! This hotel is my life! We don't even know if he has the money! It's a trick, it has to be!"
Sterling stepped toward him, his gaze like ice. "I am going to pay you your annual salary of 50 million as a severance, along with a 20-million-dollar bonus for your years of service. Take it and disappear quietly."
Vance opened his mouth to protest, but Sterling raised a hand, his expression darkening. "And don't think for one second, Harrison, that I don't know about your 'side businesses' here. The kickbacks, the supplier markups, the extra 50 million you've been siphoning off the top. I've known for a long time. I just didn't care because the hotel was profitable. But if Mr. McCain takes over, he won't be as forgiving as I am."
Vance's knees buckled. He felt a cold sweat break out across his brow. He was exposed. Every dirty deal, every hidden dollar—Sterling had kept a ledger of his sins. He could only accept his fate. But as he followed Sterling out of the office and back toward the Jade Pavilion, a dark, desperate hope flickered in his chest.
He won't have it, Vance prayed, his eyes darting wildly. Forty billion is an impossible sum. Even for a 'hidden' family, 40 billion in liquid cash is madness. He'll fail. The deal will collapse, and I'll keep my throne. He couldn't help but wonder what would become of his future if he lost his position. The title of General Manager of the Golden Dragon carried immense weight; without it, he was just a man with enemies. He thought of those he had offended and stepped on during his climb, and he knew he was finished if the deal actually went through.
The doors to the Jade Pavilion opened for the second time. Ethan and Elena were talking softly, their chairs moved closer together than before, an unmistakable air of intimacy between them. The sight made Vance's stomach churn with envy and a mounting, suffocating fear.
Sterling walked to the table, his face a mask of professional neutrality, though his heart was racing against his ribs. Vance followed behind like a shadow, his eyes fixed on Ethan, waiting for the moment of failure—the stutter, the excuse, the hesitation.
"Mr. McCain," Sterling began, standing tall. "I have consulted with the other shareholders. We have a figure. Given the prestige, the location, and the future earnings of the Golden Dragon, the price for a total buyout is 40 billion dollars. Liquid. You pay half now, and the other half when the paperwork has been completed."
Vance held his breath, the world around him seemingly slowing down. He watched Ethan's face for the slightest flicker of shock.
Ethan didn't even stop swirling his glass. He didn't look at the bill Sterling presented. He didn't ask for a discount, nor did he ask for more time. He simply looked up at Sterling, his expression as calm and unmovable as a deep, mountain lake.
"Only 40 billion?" Ethan asked, his voice echoing in the silent room with a casualness that was more terrifying than a shout. "I thought it would be more expensive. Very well. Let's get the paperwork ready."
Vance's heart skipped a beat. He felt the world go gray as his vision blurred. Only 40 billion? He knew then, with a sinking horror, that his throne had already turned to dust.