The car slowed as it turned into Newport Tower's private driveway.
Dex leaned forward slightly, looking out the window. Glass, steel, and clean stone rose in quiet symmetry, the building set back from the street just enough to feel deliberate. Even from inside the car, the tower felt intimidating—solid, immovable.
The Camry came to a stop beneath the covered entrance.
"Newport Tower," the driver said.
Dex nodded and stepped out, cool air brushing against his face. The pain in his flank flared briefly, then settled. He straightened his posture out of habit.
"Thanks." He scanned the code and added a twenty-dollar tip before the door closed.
As he approached the entrance—
"Excuse me, sir," a voice said. "Which residential building are you visiting?"
Dex turned.
The security guard was enormous—well over seven feet tall, built like a professional bouncer. The man was smiling, polite, but unmistakably alert.
"I'm here to see Mrs. Cole," Dex said evenly. "I was contacted regarding a unit purchase. I'm here to access my property."
The guard's expression softened immediately.
"Of course, sir. Right this way."
The lobby was warm.
Not just in temperature—quiet, controlled, insulated from the outside world. Polished floors reflected soft lighting. A faint scent of something expensive and unidentifiable hung in the air. No crowds. No noise.
The guard was courteous. Professional. Far kinder than anyone Dex had asked for help in a long time.
Money really did change things.
The guard led him to the concierge desk, where a man and a woman were already waiting.
"Good morning, Mr. Harlan."
Dex paused for half a step. "Yes?"
"Welcome to Newport Tower," the concierge said smoothly. "Your unit is prepared. May I see your identification?"
Dex handed over his wallet. The concierge glanced at it, then at a tablet on the desk. Dex caught a glimpse of his name, photo, and unit number displayed clearly on the screen.
"Thank you, sir." The ID was returned. "Floor Fifteen, Unit B. The elevator is to your left. Access has already been authorized."
He slid an access card across the counter, along with a key. The card was black, edged with silver—simple, understated, unmistakably exclusive.
Dex nodded once and headed for the elevators.
The ride up was silent.
As the numbers climbed, something unfamiliar settled in his chest—not excitement, not disbelief.
Relief.
Security like this meant fewer risks. Fewer questions. A place where the mob wouldn't dare make a scene in broad daylight.
The doors opened onto a quiet corridor. Thick carpet. Soft lighting. Only two units on the floor.
Unit A on the left.
Unit B on the right.
A large service elevator waited at the end of the hall.
Dex unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The apartment was furnished—not a penthouse, but spacious in a way that felt deliberate rather than excessive. Clean lines and neutral tones dominated the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the water, morning light spilling across hardwood floors and giving the entire place a sense of quiet completeness.
The living area opened naturally into the rest of the apartment. A deep, understated couch faced a wall-mounted television. Behind it, the space transitioned smoothly into a dining area—a dark wooden table centered beneath recessed lighting, four leather-wrapped chairs tucked neatly in place.
Beyond that, a curved stone countertop marked the edge of the kitchen. The design was restrained but sharp: matte-black, handleless cabinetry; a quartz island with two stools tucked beneath; an induction cooktop and a polished sink set seamlessly into the counter. The stainless steel appliances were built in, visible only when needed.
To the left of the main space were two doors.
One led to a compact study—just large enough for a desk, shelving, and a chair by the window. Functional. Quiet.
The other opened into a smaller bedroom. Two neatly arranged beds, matching wardrobes, and a wide window. A guest room, or a child's room. Either way, it felt intentionally flexible.
Past the kitchen was the master bedroom.
It wasn't extravagant, but it was generous. A king-sized bed anchored the room, flanked by minimal bedside tables. One wall was almost entirely wardrobe, its doors flush with the wall, blending into the room's design. A simple work desk sat near the window, catching natural light.
Compared to the room he used to sleep in, it felt enormous.
The bathroom was connected directly to the master bedroom.
Clean. Minimal. A walk-in shower with glass walls, a bathtub set against stone tile, a single wide sink with neatly arranged toiletries already in place.
Holy shit…
There wasn't a word that would describe what he felt. This was beyond his wildest dream.
Dex exhaled slowly.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was somewhere he couldn't be thrown out of. Somewhere no one could barge into, shout at him, or tell him to leave.
For the first time in his twenty years of living, he felt like he'd achieved something that actually mattered.
Once he was done with the master bedroom, Dex returned to the main living area and headed for the dining table. A large brown envelope sat waiting at its center, thick and weighty in a way that suggested more than documents. He picked it up and opened it.
Inside was a passport.
The apartment's ownership documents.
A new bank card, still sealed.
Everything he needed to start over.
At the bottom lay a single folded note.
He opened it.
Good luck.
—J.D.
[Starter Executive Reward Granted]
→ Liquid Assets: $250,000
→ Vehicle: Pending… [Will be delivered in 24:00:00]
Dex stared at the initials for a long moment.
Then he set the note down, looked around the apartment once more, and let the silence settle.
Whatever—or whoever—J.D. was, one thing was clear.
This life had already been set in motion.
First things first—he needed to clean up. He stank.
Dex headed back to the master bedroom and opened the wardrobe. There wasn't much inside. One neatly pressed suit. A bathrobe. A towel folded with hotel-like precision.
He sighed.
"And I thought I'd get some casual clothes," Dex muttered.
Dex set the towel aside and turned on the shower. Hot water spilled down the glass wall, steam slowly filling the room. Dirt washed away first. Then sweat. Then the lingering smell of the alley.
He stood there longer than necessary, eyes closed, breathing steadily as the heat loosened the tightness in his muscles. The ache in his flank dulled to something manageable.
When he stepped out, wrapped in the robe, the mirror reflected someone who looked… human again. Bruised, tired—but clean. Presentable.
That was enough.
Dex moved into the living room and dropped onto the couch, the cushions giving easily beneath his weight. He reached for the remote and turned on the television, flipping through channels until a familiar business network filled the screen.
Now, they mattered again.
Dex glanced at his phone.
The balance sat there – $550,000
Then he pulled the system interface back up.
[Do you wish to overwrite Save #1?]
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
[Save #1 updated]
[12/29/2025 — 09:30]
[Location: Midnight Valley — Newport]
[Status: Level 1]
Dex leaned back, eyes on the screen as the market opened.
Time to make some money.