"Name?" the receptionist asked, barely glancing up from his tablet. "Jack Spencer," I replied, trying to steady my nerves. "Name of the inmate you're visiting?" "Deborah Spencer." The receptionist's fingers danced over the screen, his expression indifferent. I tapped my foot impatiently, glancing around. The waiting area was cold and unwelcoming. The walls were a dull gray, and the fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare, emphasizing the grime and wear of the place. The air was thick with a sense of desperation and hopelessness, as if the building itself had absorbed the sorrow of its occupants. "Alright," the receptionist said finally, pointing towards a gate. "Through the gate, then left. You can go in." "Thanks," I muttered, nodding slightly as I walked past him. I entered the visiting room and took a seat, my eyes scanning the room. Most of the visitors were middle-aged men, probably fathers, brothers, or boyfriends. There were a few heavily tattooed women as well, sitting in
I didn't understand it. I really didn't. Even after laying everything out for him—the truth about Debbie, the Roth gang, all the shit they'd pulled—Dad still refused to take action. "You stubborn bastard! I'm warning you! Don't be foolish and focus on your studies!" Dad barked, his voice laced with frustration. "What? Why?" I demanded. It made no sense. We had evidence. We had opportunity. We could take down at least some of them before they ever saw it coming. Why not take the chance? "You think I don't know what you're planning?" Dad scoffed, giving me a sharp glare. "I can already imagine you going around and starting all kinds of trouble. Just thinking about it is already raising my blood pressure!" "Then what about you?" I shot back. "Can you even work with your head banged up like that?" "That's none of your damn concern! I fell—" "You were pushed!" "But I wasn't shot in the head!" he snapped. "Mind your business and go to school, you brat!" I clenched my jaw. He was be
"When you make your own money, you don't need permission to buy things," Mom said with a vindictive smile, her eyes gleaming as she stared down Sonny. "My son is very good at making money, so I won't tell him how to spend it." Sonny's face twitched. Her breaths came heavier, her jaw clenched so tight I thought her teeth might crack. Then, as if clinging to some last shred of power, Sonny straightened her back and forced a smirk. "The alumni reunion is this Saturday at the Johnson Hotel. Make sure to be there with your husband!" I almost laughed. So this was her plan? She wasn't just going to take the L—she wanted a rematch. She probably thought she could humiliate Mom at the reunion in front of their old classmates. Unfortunately for her, I don't think my mom is a weak person. "Don't worry, my mom will be there," I said, rolling my eyes. "Right, Mom?" "Yeah... right," she said, her tone more amused than anything. "I'll be there." Sonny grinned victoriously, like she'd just trap
"SHUT UP!!! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PRETTY AND SKINNY DOESN'T MAKE YOU BETTER THAN ME!!! YOU'RE JUST THE CHILD OF A MISTRESS!!!!" Sonny screeched. Oh, fuck no. I grabbed Mom's wine glass and threw the wine straight into Sonny's face. She let out a primal wail, stumbling back as the expensive wine dripped down her face and onto her ridiculous dress. "Oh goodness, Jack," Mom chuckled, watching the scene unfold. "HONEY!!!!" Sonny shrieked, wiping furiously at her face. Mom remained calm, completely unfazed. "I don't mind you being jealous, Sonny. I'm used to it. But me and my son can't listen to you insulting our family anymore." "HONEY!!! LOOK WHAT HE DID TO ME!!!! THAT CRAZY BITCH HAD HER SON THROW WINE IN MY FACE!!!" Sonny ignored us completely and ran over to a well-dressed, arrogant-looking man. Oh shit. It was about to go down. I could already tell from his expensive suit and high-and-mighty expression that this guy was trouble. How do I de-escalate a situation? ...Actually,
Mom was so pleased with how the reunion turned out that she took things a step further—by the end of the night, she had already initiated a hostile takeover of Johnson Hotels nationwide. She wasn't about to let anyone steal her bragging rights. As for Andrew Sullivan? He was demoted from his position as a show of loyalty to Dad. Dad, of course, praised me for handling things so efficiently. But he still wasn't ready to show his face in public yet. He looked fine to me, but I had a feeling it had more to do with insecurity. Debbie's attack had rattled him more than he let on. That was his problem. Mine? Ayla Spears. She was responsible for introducing gang shit into my life indirectly, and I had to get her for it. Thankfully, the system agreed. [New Mission: Defend Empire Reward: Company-wide Acknowledgment Penalty: Investor Dropouts] Good shit. *** "HUG Group has hired some really good lawyers, just as expected," Henry, Dad's assistant, informed me. "They'll spare no
"We'll be executing a search and seizure warrant on allegations of illegal trading. I inform you that you are entitled to an attorney," the man in front of me announced, flashing his badge a little too close to my face. I squinted at his ID, even though I already knew his name—Victor Nelson. This slimy bastard had a reputation. A corrupt prosecutor, frequently bought out by conglomerates to abuse his position of power. In my past life, he had completely wrecked my reputation in the business world. He'd pinned fabricated charges on a garbage disposal company I had a stake in, overstepping his authority in ways I hadn't even noticed until I lost everything. That one move made it almost impossible for me to move up and go legit like I wanted. And now, here he was again. In this life. Just as corrupt. Just as bought out. This time, clearly working with HUG. I exhaled through my nose, keeping my expression casual. "Right," I said, turning back to my phone, feigning disinterest.
"Quiet, call him now," Jared demanded, his voice low and sharp, his hand tightly gripping the gun aimed at the receptionist. Her hands trembled, and she froze, caught between fear and her only choice. Jared's glare was unforgiving. The rest of the office was dead silent, everyone avoiding making a sound as they tried not to be noticed by Jared. The tension in the room was thick, heavy. "Make sure none of the others make a sound to tip off Lance that we've arrived," Jared added, his commanding tone making it clear that there was no room for argument. Waving a gun, it turned out, was a remarkably efficient way to get things done. And disabling the security and surveillance systems had been so easy that it almost made me question how Jared wasn't a gangster. He had the potential, for sure. "Don't cry," Jared said, his voice softening just a touch. "I'm not interested in killing anyone, but I'm not above it either. As long as you all cooperate, no one will get hurt. Call him and sound
I admit, I got a bit lost in my quest for revenge that I forgot the goal was to get Victor out of his job, not offer him a different avenue. I guess there were no loopholes in the missions after all. The shareholders' meeting Victor called was tomorrow, and all was quiet—especially for me. Literally, everything had fallen into place exactly the way I wanted it to. My dad thought I was doing great by even getting a shareholders meeting called and going after HUG, unaware of my real intentions to get back at Ayla successfully... but I couldn't enjoy it. What the hell was going to explode?! The house? The car? Me? Is there an explosive in my belly? "My stomach," I mumbled. "It's just nerves, young master. Your first shareholders' meeting is tomorrow, after all, and you've successfully managed to get around HUG," Erwin said, his voice calm, but his eyes still scanning the room for any sign of trouble. "Yeah, that's cool and all, but why has Lance Spears been so quiet? I woul
I looked around the bright space, blinking through the haze of gold and white. The floor didn't feel real beneath my feet—it was too soft, too quiet. The kind of silence that wraps around you like cotton, comforting and terrifying all at once. "What the hell is this?" I muttered, spinning as the door behind me clicked shut. "So you're back," a woman's voice echoed across the space. I turned, and there she stood—a figure that looked more divine than human. Her presence glowed with a radiant gold that shimmered like sunlight caught in glass. Her hair flowed like liquid fire, and her eyes were endless, filled with stars. No wings, no halo—yet she was the most godlike thing I had ever seen. "Looks like you've accomplished your goal of getting revenge on Elijah Roth," she said, her voice calm and echoing like it came from inside my own head. "How was it? Are you satisfied?" I exhaled slowly. "Yeah... thanks to you, System." But even as I said it, the words felt hollow. Like I'd said t
The fire started spreading faster than I expected. The gasoline-soaked couch lit up with a fury, the flames crackling and leaping like they'd been starved too long and finally given their feast. Eli's face twisted when he realized what I'd done—pure disbelief smeared with rage. "Until the end..." he muttered, eyes flaring. "Fuck, alright. Let's end this fucked-up relationship. You prepared so much, I'm fucking cornered." "Shut the fuck up," I said, raising my fists again. The room was already growing hot, but we ignored the fire swallowing everything around us. We clashed like animals, swinging, grappling, gasping—two beasts caged in a burning tomb. His body slammed into mine and we hit the ground hard. Eli climbed on top, hands around my neck, squeezing with everything he had. I choked, vision dimming at the edges—but my hand found the broomstick nearby. I grabbed it and broke it clean across his head. Before he could reel back, I jabbed a jagged end right into his open eye. "Fu
{TW: violence} Eli jumped to his feet, his face twisted with desperation and rage as he lunged forward again. "FUCK!!! YOU'RE DOING ALL THIS BECAUSE OF ONE LITTLE BOUNTY ON YOUR HEAD?! JUST BECAUSE I CALLED YOU A FAG?!!!" He swung wildly, fists flying in every direction. He was panicking. Even still, one of his punches landed hard on my cheek. "FINE THEN!!! I APOLOGIZE!!! JUST LET THIS SHIT GO NOW!" Eli snapped. I kicked his knee, making him stumble. "I'M BEING FUCKING SINCERE!!!" he yelled, breathless, spit flying from his mouth as the fight devolved into something brutal and ugly. Then, with a sharp upper swing, I felt something slice from my cheek to my forehead—blood immediately clouded one of my eyes. I staggered back, vision blurry. Another blow slammed into my face. Then another. My ribs caught a few good hits before I dropped to a knee, trying to gather myself, focus. "What's wrong, Jack?" Eli sneered, looming over me. "After all that effort you put into living like a
{TW: Violence} The entire passenger side of the car was crushed, and all the airbags on my side had deployed. It felt like I had been tossed violently against something soft yet hard at the same time. I let out the breath I'd been holding and kicked my door open, staggering out of the wreckage. A few gags followed, but fortunately, I hadn't eaten anything all day, so nothing came up. Holy shit, I almost killed myself! I made a mental note—never again. I wasn't cut out for driving in situations like this. I glanced into the backseat. Eli was knocked out cold, blood dripping from his forehead where he'd slammed into the window. Too bad for him, he was still breathing. I wasn't done with him yet. I pried open the passenger door and dragged him out by the back of his shirt, pulling him into the forest. The eerie darkness around me gave me the jitters, but I ignored it. I had bigger things to focus on right now. "Stupid asshole," I muttered, dragging him further. "I fucking got you. F
A week had passed, and no one had found Declan's body. Things were moving fast, and without speaking to my dad first, I took the initiative and bought everything related to McIntyre Corporations. It was a massive undertaking. We had to fire the entire board and replace them with our own people. The financial webs were deep, tracing money from offshore accounts, and the intel I'd gathered? It was a goldmine of blackmail material, exposing nearly every business owner, politician, and high-ranking official in the city. My dad didn't hesitate for a second. He immediately used this treasure trove to his advantage. He worked quickly, killing the news of Declan Sr.'s disappearance so that no one outside our circle would know what happened. My mom, of course, was confused. The official story was that Declan had fled to avoid the scandal, but I later realized something: My dad hadn't lied to her—he just didn't want to ruin her newfound peace. She had taken a liking to Jason, and Dad didn't wa
I couldn't get the system's words out of my head. "You'll soon be too preoccupied to think about it." What the hell did that mean? What could possibly take my mind off the weight of what I'd done in my past life—of Gianna, of Jason, of everything unraveling? [Mission Accomplished! You will receive secret intel!] I froze. That... that would do it. What the actual fuck was going on? I hadn't even made a move toward atonement yet, and the mission was already marked as complete? How? Why? My phone buzzed, Jason's name lighting up the screen. It was nearly 2 a.m. A part of me didn't want to answer—I was exhausted from the party and from... well, everything. But I picked up. "Hello—" "Jack?" Jason's voice was breathless, panicked, and definitely crying. "I—I need you... to come over! I need you to come over now!" He was gasping like he couldn't breathe. "What's up? Is it your dad?" "No! No! No, no—" "Tell me what happened!" I snapped, heart racing. "No! I—I can't actually say—"
{TW: Suicide attempt} The memory came back like a bullet to the skull—sudden, searing, and impossible to ignore. I was seventeen. A parking garage bathed in that awful yellow-white light, nearly abandoned except for the low hum of flickering fluorescent tubes above me. The scent of oil and cold concrete filled the air. My footsteps were quiet, deliberate, echoing through the still space as I closed in on her. Gianna Lionetti. A cloth gripped tightly in my hand, soaked in chloroform. She didn't even have time to scream. I grabbed her from behind, pressing the cloth to her mouth and nose with a vice grip. She fought hard. Nails like razors dug into my wrist, her limbs thrashing with the kind of panic only people on the edge of death can summon. It took a full minute and a half—ninety long seconds of struggle—before her body finally sagged, unconscious in my arms. I eased her down like a sleepwalker, like she was fragile glass. Then, almost robotically, I opened the passenger door,
I sat stiffly on the edge of the velvet couch, hands clenched loosely in my lap as camera flashes exploded from every angle. The drawing room was filled to the brim with reporters—some with cameras, some already holding up mics with eager hands, all of them watching me like a hawk about to strike. This was actually kind of terrifying. The last time I'd been in front of this many cameras was... well, it wasn't exactly a shining moment. I was being perp-walked in my last life, paraded in handcuffs while people shouted for my head. The bright lights, the judgmental stares—it all felt a little too familiar. A woman in the front row leaned forward, mic close. "How did you manage to get such incredible scores?" I blinked at her. "Studying like a normal person. It's not like there was much else to do besides that and work." Click. Click. Flash. "Your first appearance on TV left people with a bad impression of you. What do you think about that?" another reporter asked. I rolled my eyes
Ok, wow. I don't even know when I lost consciousness. All I know is that I've never felt anything like that in my life. It was overwhelming—in the best, most mind-blowing way. The kind of thing that leaves your body aching, your brain blank, and your soul just a little bit altered. Eight-plus rounds. All night. Lust without restraint. I hadn't known a first-timer could go all out like that, but apparently Damien had been holding back a lot for me. I remembered everything. I'm not a virgin anymore either. Every time he said my name in the heat of it, it sounded so damn good—like music tuned specifically to my ears. He loved biting and leaving marks, and now there was an obscene amount of them all over me. My body still felt wrecked. My mind? Still trying to catch up. The first light of dawn slipped through the curtains, soft and golden, casting a gentle hue across the rumpled sheets. I turned over—and there he was. Damien's sculpted torso rose and fell with