Tangled Fate, just that Night

Chapter seven:Melted Tuna

The next morning, Nate Lopez stood outside Solis Tower, practically beaming like a cartoon character who’d just stumbled into a billionaire’s hideout.

“Damn,” he whispered, eyes scanning the sleek glass structure. “This building smells like success… and very expensive cologne.”

He adjusted his tie, patted his perfectly ironed blazer, and strutted into the lobby like he owned shares in the company. He pressed the elevator to the 17th floor, heart pounding. “You’ve got this, Lopez,” he whispered to himself.

As the elevator doors opened with a soft chime, Nate froze mid-step.

The door to the penthouse was already open.

Then a calm voice floated out from the speakers, Rylo's voice, smooth and direct:

"Come to the inner room, Nate."

“How the hell does he always know when I’m coming?” Nate muttered, stepping inside.

As soon as Nate walked into the room, Rylo looked up from his chair and burst into laughter.

“Man, what on earth are you wearing?” Rylo chuckled, standing with folded arms and genuine amusement. “Are you heading to a job interview or a wedding?”

Nate looked down at his full suit — crisp white shirt, deep blue tie, and polished brown shoes. He blinked. “What? Ain’t I working here now? I thought I should look professional.”

Rylo raised a brow, walked over with an amused smirk. “Wait... is this how you dressed to your last job?”

“Well... yeah. Technically.”

Rylo nodded, rubbing his chin like a wise professor. “Interesting. But you see me, right? Simple. Comfortable. No distractions.”

Nate scanned his outfit — casual black T-shirt, gray joggers, slippers. “Really? Your ‘no distractions’ wardrobe consists of three shades of depression—black, gray, and... more black?”

Rylo narrowed his eyes playfully. “I wear deep blue too. Occasionally. When I’m feeling adventurous.”

Nate rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” Rylo said, gesturing. “Follow me.”

They entered Rylo’s bedroom. It was luxury without noise — gray walls, white trim, a king-sized bed with jet-black silk sheets, a minimalist shelf of books and gadgets, and a glass wall that gave a view of the city skyline.

Nate's jaw dropped. “Bro. This isn’t a room. This is a Netflix backdrop.”

Rylo pulled open a drawer and tossed a folded hoodie and joggers toward him. “Change. You’ll thank me later.”

Nate caught the clothes midair, eyes squinting. “You trying to oppress me now?”

Rylo chuckled. “No. Just trying to save you from sweating through your blazer when the real work begins.”

Back in the inner room, the mood shifted. The room transformed from casual banter to tech command central.

Nate was assigned a section of Rylo’s system — a code integrity check across financial software, plus building out a custom tracker for unusual blockchain activity.

Rylo handled the core monitoring of his crypto trades, coding algorithms for threat detection, and managing a side panel showing live currency shifts.

Nate was stunned. The new gadgets ran like jet engines — liquid-cooled CPUs, triple 4K curved monitors, wireless touch panels, and a personalized AI assistant named “Zee.”

Four hours in, Nate was dragging. He slumped in the chair and looked at Rylo, who hadn’t blinked in thirty minutes, still hammering away at code and glancing at green and red trading lines.

“Boss,” Nate croaked.

No response.

“Boss!”

Rylo finally pulled off his headset and blinked.

“Call me Rylo. Or just Lo~,” he said casually.

Nate’s eyes widened. “Wait. You’re... my big brother?!”

Rylo smirked. “In this setup, I’m your boss. So let’s keep it Lo~ for now.”

Nate shook his head dramatically. “Alright, Lo~, please, I beg you. I’m not a cyborg. Can we pause before I start hallucinating coding syntax in my dreams?”

Rylo laughed. “Come. Let me feed you before your brain crashes.”

Nate chuckled nervously, “That sounds a little mafia-like, but okay.”

They moved to the open kitchen — marble countertops, black matte cabinetry, and a smart fridge that greeted Rylo by name.

He quickly made Tuna Melt Wraps, moving like he was trained by Gordon Ramsay.

“Hm. I’ve got strawberry lemonade, iced tea, or just water,” Rylo offered.

“Lemonade,” Nate replied, sniffing the air. “This place smells like a five-star restaurant.”

They sat at the island, plates before them.

“But seriously,” Nate said between bites, “how much do you actually make?”

Rylo paused, then leaned back with a half-smile. “From trading alone? Around... ₦32 million per day.”

Nate froze, jaw halfway open. “Per day?”

“Mm-hmm. That’s on a normal day. My other side hustles — tech contracts, private software, quiet shares — maybe ₦400 million monthly.”

Nate almost dropped his wrap. “You mean... I’ve been waking up at 6 a.m. every day for years just to collect crumbs?!”

Rylo laughed and patted his back. “It's not easy becoming a billionaire, my guy. You gotta build muscle in your brain.”

Nate sighed dramatically. “Well, now that I’m in your kingdom... I’m ready to be adopted financially.”

Rylo raised a brow. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

Nate took a bite and his eyes popped wide. “Bro. Who are you?! You can code, trade billions, and make gourmet wraps?”

Rylo shrugged. “Man’s gotta eat.”

Nate grinned. “You got a girlfriend? ’Cause I might need to introduce you to my sister.”

Rylo nearly choked. “Slow down, matchmaker.”

Nate leaned back in the sleek black ergonomic chair, chewing slowly as Rylo took another bite of his perfectly grilled tuna melt wrap.

"You said... ₦32 million a day, right?" Nate asked, calculating quickly in his head.

Rylo looked up from his plate, sipping his strawberry lemonade. "Yeah. Give or take."

Nate blinked, eyes widening. "And ₦400 million monthly from other projects?"

Rylo smirked, "Mmhmm."

Nate dropped his fork, sat up, and gave Rylo a long look. "Bro… that's well over ₦1.3 billion a month. That’s like… ₦16 billion per year. Not even counting your global moves."

Rylo tilted his head, amused. "You're good with numbers, huh?"

"I'm a computer engineer, not a toddler," Nate shot back, his mind racing. He scanned the minimalist kitchen again — no gold-plated nonsense or extravagant displays — just smooth black marble countertops, high-grade stainless appliances, and imported cookware arranged neatly. The open-plan living space was equally tasteful: smart lighting, soft monochrome tones, understated elegance. Not a trace of loud billionaire behavior.

That’s when it hit him.

"Wait a minute…" Nate said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You reinvest, don’t you?"

Rylo raised a brow. "What do you think all those monitors are for?"

"You’re putting your money back into the markets… and probably stocks, crypto, maybe even global real estate?" Nate asked, almost to himself.

Rylo didn’t answer, but his smirk deepened.

"And I bet you're not just earning in estors... You're sitting on USD, EUR, maybe even Swiss francs." Nate added, practically muttering now.

"You’d make a great analyst, Nate," Rylo finally replied with a chuckle.

Nate let out a low whistle, gripping his head dramatically. "No freaking way. You're not just an Estoria billionaire… You're an international billionaire walking around in joggers and black hoodies like some anime tech monk."

Rylo laughed, then tapped Nate’s shoulder. “But I’m low-key. Don’t blow my cover, eh?”

Elsewhere in Estoria’s capital, Lila sat with Brian in an upscale café, swirling her drink slowly.

"Desire has children," she said with a whisper of malice. "Twins."

Brian blinked. "Okay?"

"They look... exactly like Rylo Braylor. It makes sense now. That night in university... she didn’t end up in Jice’s room. I think she ended up with Rylo."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "And that’s your concern because...?"

Lila leaned in, her voice low. "Because if they reconnect, I lose my leverage. But if I hold Miles in one hand... and Rylo in the other... I own Braylor."

Brian scoffed. "You’re dating Miles, and now you want to control both brothers? That’s unhinged."

She grinned wickedly. "Nobody outside the family even knows Rylo is Sawyer’s first son. That secret gives me time—and power."

At the Braylor Empire cafeteria, the clatter of forks and laughter came to a sudden halt.

Desire sat quietly with Camilla and Johnnie. Camilla frowned. "Why did everyone go silent?"

Johnnie turned. "Oh no. Here comes trouble."

Miles Braylor entered, perfectly pressed in designer business wear, tray in hand. Employees stared as he walked past — the company’s most feared VP.

He didn’t go to his usual table. He sat directly in front of Desire.

Johnnie froze. Camilla panicked and stood up. "I… I need to… uh… check something."

Johnnie whispered, "Godspeed," and followed her out.

Desire exhaled and continued eating.

"You’re not leaving," Miles said coldly, “unless you want Camilla to start job hunting.”

Desire paused her chewing but kept her cool.

"Go on a date with me," he said, casually stabbing his chicken.

"I have children and parents who depend on me. I don’t have time for games," she replied.

"But you’re having dinner with my brother tonight." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Desire looked him in the eye. "He helped me out of a tough spot. This is just a thank-you dinner."

Miles's eyes narrowed. "You don’t even know who he is."

"I don’t care who he is," she said. "I’m not interested in office drama."

She stood, grabbed her tray, and walked away without another word.

At the Solis Tower penthouse, Rylo checked his watch. 5:00 PM.

He walked to his wardrobe and dressed in his usual — all-black fitted shirt, tailored slacks, limited-edition black sneakers. A spritz of cologne — sharp, clean, expensive. He ran a hand through his tousled hair.

“Dinner with a damsel in distress,” he said with a smirk.

Nate watched him from the couch, tapping his phone.

To: Dee

“Don’t forget to get that dinner guy’s number 👀”

Desire texted back:

“Mind your business 🙄”

“Aren’t you home yet?”

Nate:

“Working overtime. Already told mum and dad. Don’t be late with Mr. Mystery.”

Nate smiled.