Billionaire's Betrayal a contracted revenge (Aurelia) novel Chapter 5

Chp 5: The pace of kings.

Rieck’s POV

I was standing on the forty-second floor with nothing between my shoes and the drop but a steel beam and the wind.

Below, the city looked like a circuit board. Above, a hundred more floors waited to be built.

This tower was the largest thing I had ever built, or would ever build, if the fools on my payroll kept crawling at this pace.

“Mr. Valerius.” The foreman hurried up behind me, hard hat in his hands. “We weren’t expecting you on site today.”

“I know.”

I didn’t turn. My eyes stayed on the cranes swaying in the gray morning.

Three.

There should have been five.

“Where are the other two cranes?”

“One is being serviced, sir. The other… we had a staffing issue. Two operators called in sick.”

“Called in sick.”

A pause.

“Yes, sir.”

“On my site?”

The fear hit the air immediately. I didn’t like that. Fear led to mistakes. Mistakes led to bodies.

“Get Vance up here,” I said. “Now.”

The foreman bolted.

I stayed where I was, the wind cutting through my coat. The cold never bothered me. It never had.

My father used to say that was the first sign something was wrong with me. Before the eyes. Before the scent.

A baby who didn’t cry in the cold.

A baby who listened.

I should have been listening now.

I should have been at the penthouse.

Watching the door.

Watching her.

Instead, I had left.

Aurelia’s face pushed into my thoughts anyway.

Bare feet. Wet hair. Chin lifted in that stubborn way she used when she was about to lie and call it pride.

I had asked her a simple question yesterday.

When was the last time you were touched?

She hadn’t been able to answer.

And I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

The elevator clanged.

“Mr. Valerius.”

Vance stepped out, already sweating.

“Walk with me.”

I moved along the beam. He followed, watching every step.

“When I approved your schedule,” I said, “you told me eighteen months to completion.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re at month seven. We should be at fifty floors. But We’re at forty-two.”

“The port strike delayed rebar shipments, and—”

“Twelve.”

He blinked. “Sir?”

“Twelve months. We top out in twelve.”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s not possible,” he said carefully. “Not safely. Not without tripling the crew.”

“Then triple the crew.”

“The budget—”

“Is not your concern.”

He swallowed. “Even the fastest builds in this city takes fifteen months. I can’t guarantee what is physically impossible, I urge you to reconsider.”

I stopped walking, turned around and looked at him.

He stepped back immediately.

They always did. It was the eyes.

“Vance,” I said quietly, “if you can’t do it in twelve months, resign today.”

Silence.

“I’ll replace you tomorrow. If your replacement says the same thing, I’ll replace him too. I will keep replacing people until someone says yes.”

He didn’t speak.

“So,” I said, “which are you? The yes—or the resignation?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

I clapped his shoulder once.

“Get me a new schedule by Friday. Crew rotations. Material flow. Every choke point. If I see the word delay, you’ll be writing it from outside my company.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that I left him.

—

The drive back was quiet.

The window was cracked open. Cold air cutting across my jaw.

It didn’t help.

Suddenly Aurelia’s face interrupted my thoughts again.

Her silence. Her hesitation.

Two years married to Dawson.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify