Richard flagged down a taxi, slipping into the back seat with a sharp, determined look on his face.
"Take me to the most expensive hotel in town," he demanded, his voice still simmering with anger.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. "That would be KING'S PALACE HOTEL, over by the airport," he responded casually.
Richard leaned forward, curiosity flashing through his mind for a second. "Is it bigger than Black Pearl Hotel?"
The driver chuckled, shaking his head. "Bigger? It's a hundred times bigger than Black Pearl, man. King's Palace is where the real power players stay."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Richard's lips as he sank back into his seat. "Perfect," he muttered, a plan already taking shape in his mind.
The driver eyed Richard through the rearview mirror, squinting as if piecing together something familiar. "Wait… Aren't you Richard Bentley?"
Richard stiffened but didn't flinch. "Yes, I am," he replied flatly.
The driver whistled low. "Man, your name is everywhere right now. Did you really do that... you know, with that woman?"
Richard's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "I was framed," he said firmly. "I'm innocent."
The driver sighed, shaking his head. "That's tough, man. But the way things look, they're gonna send you to jail."
Richard's eyes flashed with cold determination. "We'll see about that."
The driver glanced back at him, sympathy written on his face. "Listen, you can't walk into King's Palace looking like you just rolled out of a hospital bed. People will tear you apart before you get through the door. I've got some spare clothes in the trunk."
Richard paused, surprised by the driver's offer.
"Thanks, but I want to make an entrance just like this."
The driver raised an eyebrow, confusion etched on his face. "That hotel is crawling with powerful people—politicians, lawyers, celebrities. Are you sure this is how you want to roll in?"
"I'm sure. Just drop me off, and I'll handle the rest." Richard said, his voice unwavering as they approached the sprawling facade of King's Palace Hotel, it's golden lights shimmering like a beacon of opulence against the night sky.
"Alright, man. Here we go," The driver nodded.
As soon as the driver pulled up at the grand entrance of King's Palace Hotel, Richard stepped out, the cold night air brushing against his skin.
He quickly handed over the fare, his eyes fixed on the towering structure ahead. But as he turned to leave, a sense of gratitude tugged at him, urging him to repay the driver's unexpected kindness.
He sighed, then leaned back toward the driver's window. "Come back here in 24 hours and ask for Richard Bentley. There'll be a little package waiting for you."
The driver stared at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. He chuckled nervously, shaking his head. "I'm not even sure they'll let you through the doors looking like that, and you're telling me to come back for some package?" He laughed again, a mix of amusement and pity in his voice. "But alright, if you say so."
Richard smiled faintly, his gaze shifting toward the glittering hotel entrance where the elite of the city mingled. "I say so."
Without another word, he turned and walked confidently toward the hotel, his tattered hospital clothes stark against the backdrop of luxury and power.
Richard could hear the low murmurs as he approached the entrance, his hospital uniform already drawing unwanted attention.
His face remained expressionless, though inside, he was brimming with purpose. He knew exactly how the guards would react to him.
One of the security guards elbowed his colleague, nodding in Richard's direction. "Looks like someone's escaped from an asylum," he muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a mocking grin.
Richard stopped in front of them, his gaze cold and unwavering. "Gentlemen," he began calmly, his voice steady, "I'm here for business."
The second guard, not bothering to hide his laughter, leaned forward, inspecting Richard's shabby attire. "Business? You mean begging, right? The hospital's that way," he said, jerking his thumb behind him.
Richard smiled faintly, unfazed. "I'll say this once. Let me through, or you'll regret crossing me."
The guards chuckled, exchanging looks of amusement. But Richard remained steady, his eyes burning with a quiet, dangerous resolve.
He was prepared to deal with anyone who dared to stand in his way, and those who showed respect? They would be handsomely rewarded.
The guards didn't recognize him, how could they? The Richard Bentley plastered all over the news was being hunted by police, accused of harassing a woman in a luxury hotel.
No one would expect that same man to casually show up at the city's most prestigious hotel dressed in nothing but a tattered hospital uniform.
"What business do you have in this hotel?" one of the guards taunted, sizing him up.
Richard's lips curved into a smirk. "I'll start by buying the hotel," he replied calmly, his voice steady, but with a confidence that made the guards pause for a moment.
They burst into laughter again, slapping each other on the back as if he had just told the world's best joke. "He's mad, isn't he?" one asked, leaning into his colleague.
"Oh, for real, he's a funny lad. Let him go in and continue to make a fool of himself," the other added, waving Richard off like he was nothing more than an amusing sideshow.
Richard said nothing. He didn't have to. Soon, the laughter would stop. Brushing past them, he made his way toward the entrance.
As Richard stepped inside King's Palace Hotel, he was immediately struck by the grandeur of the place.
The lobby was a masterpiece of opulence, stretching high into the air with a vaulted ceiling adorned with chandeliers crafted from the purest crystal.
Every inch of the walls shimmered, embedded with precious stones—emeralds, rubies, and sapphires—set in intricate patterns that caught the light and sparkled like stars.
Gold lined everything, from the sweeping marble staircase to the lavish pillars that supported the grand structure.
The floors were polished to a mirror-like sheen, made from the finest Italian marble veined with streaks of gold. Massive artworks, framed in pure gold, hung on the walls, depicting scenes of royalty and luxury. The air was perfumed with a subtle scent of jasmine, blending with the rich atmosphere of power and wealth.
The concierge desk was no ordinary counter, it was sculpted from a single slab of white marble and edged with delicate gold leaf, shimmering under the soft lighting. Behind it, the staff, dressed in tailored uniforms, moved with the grace of butlers in a palace, their every gesture refined, their smiles knowing.
The sheer splendor of the place was overwhelming, a testament to the wealth and influence of those who frequented it.
It wasn't just a hotel, it was a statement. A monument to power and luxury, meant to remind every visitor that only the elite could enter its golden doors. Richard's eyes traced the elaborate designs, and for a moment, he let the allure of wealth sink in.
As Richard approached the front desk, a group of elegantly dressed receptionists attended to guests with swift precision.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Richard said softly, tapping the polished counter.
One of the receptionists glanced up from the computer, her eyes meeting Richard's disheveled hospital attire. She let out an audible sigh and returned her focus to the screen, clearly unimpressed.
"I can get you fired, you know," Richard said, his voice calm but with a hint of authority.
The receptionist paused, her fingers freezing mid-typing. Slowly, she lifted her gaze back to him, smirking with amusement. "You? Get me fired?"