Page 98 of Billionaire’s Ruin

Followed by pounding—brutal fists or battering tools pounding hard enough to rattle the hinges.

Someone was trying to break in.

And for the first time in days, something fierce ignited inside me—alive.

Hope.

Shouts erupted—sharp, frantic, overlapping. Then the unmistakable crash of bodies hitting walls, fists hitting flesh, boots scraping across the ground. A metal object clattered to the ground, followed by a dull, sickening thud.

And then… A crack.

A gunshot?

Or just the pounding in my skull, loud enough to drown out the world?

Each inhale grew heavier, slower, trying to wrench me back into full consciousness, to fight through the fog flooding my veins. Instinct roared awake—live, move, survive—but the haze was thickening, dragging me deeper, smothering me from the inside out.

Every inhale dragged slower, thicker, like I was inhaling mud. My limbs tingled with numbness, my eyelids trembling under the weight of the sedative. I fought to keep them open, even a sliver—anything to see what was happening.

Footsteps.

At first, just one pair—quick, purposeful.

Then another.

Then three.

Then too many to count.

Their echoes ricocheted through the padded walls, distorting into a confusing rhythm that made it impossible to tell who was coming—or from where they were coming.

Murmurs drifted in, urgent and low. The scuff of shoes. The sound of someone breathing too fast. Somewhere close, metal clicked—something being cocked, or unlocked, or armed.

I tried to speak, but my tongue lay useless in my mouth, thick as stone. No sound came out.

A shadow leaned over me, blocking the fractured light from the flickering ceiling fixture. The face blurred, swimming in and out of focus. The outline of a jaw, a sweep of hair, a silhouette that could’ve been anyone.

For a second, I swore it was her.

The way she hovered, hesitant.

The softness in posture.

Or maybe I was hallucinating again—another dream stitched from desperation and fear.

A palm pressed lightly to my shoulder—gentle, steady, grounding. Not hostile. Not rough. But firm enough to tell me: stay down.

Before I could decipher who that touch belonged to… chaos detonated.

A brutal impact—wood splintering inward.

A guttural shout ripped through the room.

Then a scream—raw, piercing, jagged enough to slice straight through the drugged fog in my skull.

Everything blurred.

My vision fractured into shards of brightness and gloom.