Chapter 3

The second the door was closed, I grabbed my phone.

I had to see what they'd do next.

I opened the VIP instant messaging system. My gut was right.

Carl had already posted a long message in the guest group, complete with several photos of the skyline view from my pool—shot at a weird angle, clearly taken without my knowledge.

"Great news, everyone! Through Pamela's and my efforts, we have successfully secured the use of the penthouse pool area for the hotel!"

"Tomorrow at 2 PM, Pamela will be hosting her 'Golden Summer' brand livestream by the pool, giving back to all our fans and hotel VIPs!"

"A huge thank you to Manager Morrison for his support, and to all the management team for their cooperation!"

Dozens of comments had already flooded in.

"Wow, Carl, you're amazing!"

"Mrs. Stalin is such a business genius!"

"I've always wanted to see that infinity pool! Finally got a chance!"

"Carl, how did you convince the penthouse guy to agree? I thought he said no?"

My fingers trembled as I scrolled down and saw Carl's reply.

"Some people just don't get community spirit. Think they're above everyone else. But when faced with real influence and capital, they have no choice but to play along. Besides, those types who rent a suite just to take photos and look rich? No point reasoning with them. You just do what needs to be done."

I was still trying to be civil. To use the system.

I replied directly: "On what grounds are you seizing private facilities that I paid an eight-figure room rate for?"

Less than ten seconds later, Carl replied with a voice note.

I pressed play. His sharp, grating voice filled the room.

"Oh, you still dare to show your face? Eight figures? Where does a kid like you get that kind of money? Rent a suite for a day, shoot a few short videos, and suddenly you think you're some CEO? That suit you're wearing looks cheap as hell!"

"You watch your mouth. My wife isn't just an influencer. She knows people. Media people. One word from her, and you won't just disappear from this hotel. You'll disappear from the entire social circle. Period. You think putting on a suit for two days gets you into this world? Dream on."

I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white.

This vicious man wasn't just trying to steal my space, he was trying to destroy my reputation.

Chicago business circles? The Ricci family is the shadow behind Chicago's business circles. And this clown thinks his wife's lipstick empire can threaten me?

The group chat exploded.

"Oh my god, is that true?"

"I knew it. How else could a young guy afford the penthouse?"

"These rent-a-suite posers are getting bolder and bolder."

"No wonder he's so stuck-up. He's got something to hide. Probably maxed out his credit cards."

I calmly screenshotted every single comment, saving the evidence.

But I made myself a promise. When I took over as head of the family, I swore I'd do it the legitimate way—crush them with contracts and legal notices, not violence and fear.

I replied directly to his post. "Carl, this is slander and conspiracy to commit misappropriation. Every post has been screenshotted. My lawyer will be in touch shortly."

Carl shot back, more arrogant than ever:

"A crime? Hahaha, that's hilarious! Go ahead, sue me! See if you can find a lawyer in Chicago who'd dare to take your case! A two-bit wannabe renting a suite to play rich—what kind of lawyer could you even afford?"

Marcus jumped in too.

"Mr. Ricci, please watch your tone. Management is acting on a hotel resolution. Everything is by the book and compliant. If you continue to post statements that disrupt hotel harmony, we will have to restrict your account. Also, I'd advise you to mind your behavior—don't leave other distinguished guests with the impression that 'young people don't know their place.'"

The rage in my chest was a wildfire. My restraint was a single thread, about to snap.

I shut off my phone and leaned back on the couch, closing my eyes.

My eighty-thousand-a-night suite pool—stolen.

My booking confirmation—dismissed as worthless paper.

My reputation—slandered as a wannabe renting above his means.

Management and the hotel, working together to rob me blind.

Fine. Just fine.

I stood up, took photos of the booking contract and payment records, encrypted them, and sent them to my private lawyer in New York.

Just after I hit send, the side door access light flickered on.

Someone was in the pool area?

Who would be going in there this late?

I pushed open the glass door to the pool terrace, and when I saw what was happening, my heart sank.