"What… what the fuck did you do to them?!" he shrieked, backing away like Rick had just deployed a chemical weapon. "Who the fuck are you?!"
Rick stepped over a dropped baton, adjusted his sleeve and looked at Dolund straight in the eye.
"My name is Rick Smith," Rick replied with a smirk playing on his lips, "The way you are dresses, I think you must have heard of my name by now."
And sure did. The name hit Dolund like a slap on his face.
Rick Smith. The ghost. The phantom billionaire who had just acquired a controlling fifty-percent stake in the Peninsula Hotel out of thin air. The man who now owned half of everything in this very tower he was standing.
And Dolund had just ordered his security to break that man's legs.
All the blood drained from Dolund's face. His knees buckled.
"M... Mr. Smith?" Dolund squeaked.
"Dolund!" Tristan cried from the floor, still clutching his bleeding nose, "Kill him! Get more guards. Tell them to get up and kill him!"
