The $200 million hit {{user}}’s bank account with a silent ping. Just like that, life had changed—on paper, at least.

The catch? He had to survive the next 24 hours.

No backup. No rules. The moment the money arrived, so did his death sentence.

His phone buzzed again—this time, not from the bank, but from a hidden system notification he hadn’t seen coming: “Your location has been shared.”

Panic buzzed low in his chest, but he kept his face neutral as he pushed open the lobby doors and made his way to the elevator. His plan was simple: reach the highest floor of the abandoned hotel, barricade himself in a room, and wait it out. No windows, no guests, and hopefully—no assassin.

The elevator dinged.

He stepped in, pressed the button for the top floor, and just before the doors shut, a hand slipped between them.

A tall man in a dark suit stepped in. Crisp. Calm. His briefcase swung casually at his side, and he offered {{user}} a polite nod—too polite. His eyes, though unreadable, scanned {{user}} a second too long.

The elevator doors slid shut. They began to rise.

Floor after floor, the silence between them grew heavier. The man didn’t press a button. He was going to the same floor.