5G SYSTEM ONLINE: Rise of Stephen king

Chapter 5- Consequences

The morning light filtered through the curtains, gently pulling Stephen from the depths of sleep. For a moment, he lay in the plush bed, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the previous day. Was it all a dream? The betrayal, the wealth, the system?

He sat up, the luxurious room greeting him, confirming the truth of his new reality. His heart raced as he reached for his phone to check his bank balance. The screen lit up, showing $300 million remaining. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived as the system's hologram flickered to life before him.

"Mission reminder," the hologram intoned, the countdown ticking ominously. "Location: Rio 5-star hotel inauguration today."

The doorbell rang, snapping Stephen out of his trance. "Enter," he called.

The hotel manager stepped in, a respectful nod in Stephen's direction. Behind him, caterers wheeled in a cart brimming with exotic foods, their scents wafting through the air.

"And this," the manager said, presenting a package emblazoned with the 5G logo, "was delivered for you, Mr. King."

Stephen eyed the package, his curiosity piqued. "Thank you," he said, dismissing the staff with a wave.

Once alone, he carefully opened the package to reveal a red suit with a staggering price tag of $5 million, a pure gold wristwatch, and a car key—the emblem unmistakable. It was the key to a Rolls-Royce Boat Tail, the most expensive car in the world.

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FEW MINUTES LATER

Stephen emerged from his bath, the steam swirling around him as he dried off and dressed in the red suit. The fabric hugged his frame, transforming his appearance into that of a man who commanded respect and exuded power. The wristwatch was a statement piece, its gold gleam catching the light with every movement. He studied his reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the man who looked back at him.

With a spritz of the rich, earthy perfume from the box, he felt ready to face whatever the day held. The elevator descended smoothly, and as the doors opened, he stepped out into the crisp morning air.

His eyes scanned the lineup of luxury vehicles before pressing the key in his hand. The Rolls-Royce Boat Tail responded, its lights flashing discreetly. As he approached the car, its beauty was undeniable—a perfect blend of elegance and engineering.

That's when he saw him—the old man from before, his gaze intense and knowing. "It chose you," the man had said. They locked eyes, a silent conversation passing between them, until a bus rolled by and the old man was gone, as if he were never there.

"Who was that old man?" Stephen whispered to himself, a chill running down his spine. But there was no time to dwell on the mystery; his mission awaited, and with a turn of the key, the Rolls-Royce purred to life.

Stephen's grip tightened on the steering wheel, the Rolls-Royce Boat Tail responding to his every command with grace and power. The city blurred past him, a tapestry of light and shadow as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The old man's words echoed in his mind, a cryptic message that seemed to hold the key to this entire enigma. "It chose you," but what did it mean?

As he navigated through the bustling streets, Stephen's thoughts were a whirlwind of strategy and anticipation. The inauguration event would be teeming with the city's elite, all eyes on the grand opening of the Rio's newest jewel. He had to be careful, play his cards right.

Pulling up to the hotel, the valet rushed to open his door, his eyes wide with awe at the sight of the Boat Tail. Stephen stepped out, the red suit making him look like royalty among the crowd. Murmurs rippled through the onlookers as he made his way to the entrance, his presence commanding attention.

As Stephen made his grand entrance, whispers fluttered around him like leaves in a breeze. "Who is this man?" someone murmured, their eyes fixed on his attire. "That watch... it's worth a fortune," another voice added, admiration lacing their tone. Stephen paid them no mind, his focus razor-sharp on the mission at hand.

He approached a tray of champagne, the bubbles dancing in the glass. Taking a sip, he savored the taste, a luxury he had been denied in his previous life with Marianne. They had kept him from such indulgences, relegating him to scraps while they feasted.

His reverie was broken by a voice, rich and aged like fine wine. "That's quite the timepiece, young man," said the voice. Stephen turned to find himself face-to-face with Marianne's father, whom he decided to call Mr. Harrington. "And that suit... must have set you back quite a bit. What business are you into?"

Stephen met Mr. Harrington's gaze, his expression unreadable. "I didn't," he replied coolly. "But let's just say I've had a recent... windfall. Investments, you might say."

Mr. Harrington raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Is that so? Well, it seems you've invested wisely," he said, his tone a mix of curiosity and a hint of respect.

Stephen nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Indeed, Mr. Harrington. Sometimes life offers us a second chance to make a first impression. Today, I'm simply enjoying the returns."

Inside, Stephen's mind raced with silent contempt for Mr. Harrington. **Greedy old vulture,** he thought, **always sniffing around for money and gold.**

"How did you come to know my name?" Mr. Harrington inquired, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Stephen, aware that he needed to keep his true identity hidden, replied with a practiced ease, "Mr. Harrington, your name is well-known in these circles, especially as the in-law to the Woods family." His smile was polite but didn't reach his eyes.

Mr. Harrington seemed satisfied with the answer, his smile widening. "Well, thank you. And between us," he leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "I must say, I'm quite pleased with how I handled that useless son-in-law of mine, that jobless fool called Stephen. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."

The insult stung, fueling a fire within Stephen. He wanted to lash out, to reveal himself, but he held back, knowing the importance of staying in character.

"And what did you say your name was?" Mr. Harrington asked, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Stephen.

With a calm that belied his inner fury, Stephen looked Mr. Harrington straight in the eye and said, "My name is Stephen. Stephen King."