System

Richard's eyes opened to the sterile white walls of a hospital room. The familiar scent of disinfectant hit his nose, and for a moment, he thought he must be dreaming. His mind felt hazy, memories of the gunshot flooding back in a sudden rush.

"I should be dead," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky.

Dressed in a patient uniform, he slowly sat up, still trying to make sense of his surroundings.

His hands instinctively moved to his chest, where the bullet had torn through him. He touched his skin, cautiously pinching it.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

"I'm alive…"

There was no pain, no trace of the bullet wound that should have left him in agony. He frantically checked his body, but it was as if the injury had never existed.

Suddenly, a familiar ping echoed in his mind.

Ping! Host must spend $100,000 as soon as possible.

"What?!"

He jerked, startled by the sudden command, his confusion growing by the second.

"How am I even alive?"

The mechanical voice responded,

Host has been healed of his bullet wounds.

Richard blinked, struggling to comprehend what was happening. The impossible had happened—he'd been shot, and now, not only was he alive, but he was completely healed. And this system, whatever it was, was real.

The door to his ward opened, and a nurse in her mid-50s walked in.

"Richard Bentley, good to see you're awake," she smiled warmly.

Richard simply nodded, still processing everything. "Can I go now?"

"You're free to go," she said smoothly, dismissing him with a smile. But there was something in her tone—something unsettling.

Just as Richard stood to leave, she added, almost as an afterthought, "I knew your father. We worked together. He was a good man."

Richard paused, turning toward her, surprised. "You knew him?"

She nodded slowly, her gaze locking onto his. "Be careful, Richard. The people who killed your father may be after you too."

The weight of her words hit him like a punch to the gut, but before he could ask more, she gestured toward the door.

"Go now. And watch your back."

His mind raced as he left the hospital, her warning swirling in his head. His stomach growled loudly, snapping him back to the present.

Hunger gnawed at him. He hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take him to the nearest restaurant.

When he arrived, the stares and whispers started almost immediately. People eyed him, snickering and whispering behind their hands as he walked in, still dressed in his patient uniform.

"Look at that guy, straight out of the hospital and already hungry?" someone jeered.

Richard ignored them and ordered his food, trying to push down the embarrassment. He found a corner table and sat, eating in silence.

Then, just as he was taking a bite, the television above the bar blared, the news anchor's voice breaking through the background chatter.

"Breaking news..."

Richard looked up, his heart racing as he saw something on the screen that made his blood run cold.

He froze mid-bite, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

His picture flashed across the news, clear as day, alongside the bold headline: "Man Caught Harassing Woman in Hotel."

The reporter's voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the restaurant.

"Richard Bentley, seen here in this footage, was allegedly caught harassing a woman at the prestigious Black Pearl Hotel earlier today. Bentley is the husband of famous actress Linda Lucas, who, as of this hour, has officially filed for divorce."

Richard's heart sank. The blood drained from his face.

The reporter continued, her tone turning ominous. "Police are now on the lookout for Bentley, who remains at large. Sources say he could be dangerous."

Murmurs erupted around the restaurant. People glanced at him, some already reaching for their phones.

Richard's hands trembled as rage surged through him, each word of the news broadcast like fuel to the fire already burning within.

His mother-in-law, his wife,her siblings, they hadn't just humiliated him, they'd destroyed his life, setting him up to be a public disgrace.

The thought gnawed at him, "Perhaps they're behind everything my death."

He clenched his fists, knuckles white, pushing his untouched meal aside. A low growl escaped his throat as he stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing more eyes his way. But he didn't care.

"They're all going to pay for this," he muttered under his breath, venom dripping from every word. "Every. Single. One."

Richard's mind raced. He would get even. And none of them, neither Linda, Katherine, nor anyone who crossed him, would escape his wrath.

With his heart pounding and resolve solidified, he stormed out of the restaurant.