The apartment was small.
Too small.
Rustler King stared at the cracked ceiling above him.
The paint was peeling in several places, and the faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the building echoed through the quiet room.
He clenched his jaw.
Once upon a time, the King family mansion had ceilings so high that chandeliers hung like stars in the sky.
Now he was lying on a cheap sofa that creaked every time he moved.
Rustler slowly sat up.
The room was messy.
Several documents were scattered on the table. Financial plans, rough business ideas, investment calculations.
All useless.
Because none of them had money.
He ran a hand through his messy hair.
“Damn it.”
The words slipped out quietly.
A few months ago, he had everything.
Power.
Status.
Money.
Respect.
Now he had none of it.
Antonio King had thrown him out without hesitation.
His father had looked at him as if he were a stranger.
Even worse.
As if he were a disgrace.
