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
The whiskey burned going down, but I barely noticed. The rain hammering against my office window had become a familiar sound to me—one I was beginning to resent. The war with the Vultures had been dragging on for months, and the body count just kept climbing. The cops were breathing down my neck, demanding answers I didn't have. My crew—my family—was all I had left, and I'd fight to the bitter end to keep us on top. But something was wrong. Jobs had gone south, shipments intercepted, safe houses raided like clockwork. Someone was feeding the Vultures intel, and deep down, I already knew who. Eli Roth. My right-hand man. My brother. We'd run this gang together since high school. I wanted to believe he was still the guy who had my back through shootouts, deals gone wrong, and nights when we had nothing but each other and a couple of stolen beers. But everything pointed to him. And soon, I'd have my proof. Not that I wanted it. Tonight, I should've gone to the warehouse to regroup a
I woke up in a large, fluffy bed, feeling oddly invigorated. The last thing I remembered was being stabbed—multiple times—left bleeding out in the mud. But now, there was no pain, no aching wounds, nothing. I ran my hands over my body, half expecting to find blood-soaked bandages, but my skin was smooth, unblemished. I was sure I'd died in the woods. "I just don't feel 32 anymore," I murmured, flexing my fingers. My hands... had they ever been this soft? This small? My skin was paler than I remembered, almost delicate. It felt unnatural. Panic gnawed at my gut as I took in my surroundings. This wasn't a hospital. It was a fucking kid's bedroom. The walls were covered in posters of classic rock bands, the shelves cluttered with trophies and Power Ranger action figures. The bedspread was dark blue, patterned with white stars, and a scratched-up desk stood by the window, covered in doodles and stickers. Nothing about this place felt familiar. Did someone find me? Patch me up? Coul
I left for school on my own, skipping breakfast with the so-called family. If they didn't care about me, I wasn't going to waste my time trying to know them either. Besides, I had much more important things to focus on—like the insane amount of money sitting in my bank account. Apparently, my "dad," Leigh Spencer, ran a massive luxury retail franchise, and my "mom" owned a financial consulting firm. Together, they were almost billionaires. Even this loser kid's personal bank account held a staggering $15 million—all because he got a ridiculously high allowance and never spent a dime. I'd never seen that much legal money in one place before. It was just sitting there, untouched, waiting for me to burn through it. I couldn't fucking wait. "We've arrived, young master," Erwin announced as the car rolled to a stop. I looked out the window and holy shit. The school in front of me wasn't just a school—it was a goddamn castle. It looked like one of those elite European academies
I paid for both of our lunches, not because I was particularly nice, but because I couldn't be bothered with waiting for Damien to fumble around for his wallet. From the moment I saved his ass this morning, he hadn't left my side, even following me to the damn bathroom. It was like I had a lost puppy trailing after me. "Thank you again," Damien said, smiling. "Shut up and get your food already," I grumbled. He nodded happily and piled food onto his tray. I eyed the school pizza. Unlike the cardboard garbage I'd eaten in public school in my last life, this actually looked good. This entire cafeteria was a different world from what I knew. The polished floors, the crystal chandeliers, the gourmet food stations—it was like a five-star restaurant disguised as a school. I swiped my card for both of us, and Damien beamed at me. "Thank-" "Stop saying thank you so much!" I snapped. "But I'm grateful," Damien smiled. "Find another way to show it or something. This is getting really ann
"... and then you solve for X. Does anyone want to take a guess at the answer?" The math teacher beamed at the front of the room, seemingly oblivious to the collective groan that went through the students. Who the hell wanted a math lesson on the first day? Certainly not me. "How about Jack Spencer?" I glared at her. There were clearly other people with their hands raised—eager little nerds desperate to make a good first impression—but she picked me instead. She wasn't slick. She wanted to humiliate me, probably assuming I wasn't paying attention. "It's 45.7%," I said, barely sparing a glance at the problem. For some reason, I just knew the answer, even though, in my last life, I hadn't made it past Algebra I. I guess this Spencer kid was actually smart. "That's correct," the teacher said, a little too surprised. "I thought you weren't paying attention, but I guess I was mistaken." So she was trying to embarrass me? This was exactly why I hated school. Teachers were all the
The drive to Damien's house was quiet, aside from Damien occasionally giving Erwin directions. I wasn't used to silence in a car, especially after the kind of fight I just walked away from, but Damien didn't seem like the type to start a conversation. Annoying. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His black hair fell over his face like a damn curtain. "Why's all your hair in your damn face?" I asked. "Can you even see?" "I can see just fine," Damien mumbled. "I just don't want people to see me." I scoffed. "Do you want me to see your face?" Damien hesitated. "...Kind of." "Then show me. I at least want to know who the fuck I'm speaking to." I could've said it nicer, sure. But his timid demeanor was pissing me off. I wasn't about to let my only friend turn into some mousy, quiet pushover. He needed to change, and he needed to change fast. "Promise you won't make fun of me?" He said in a small voice. I rolled my eyes. "I will if you're ugly." He looked hurt. "Fine," I
The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the drawing room was my parents' love and hate meters. Both their love bars were full, yet my dad's hate bar sat at 2%. I frowned. If they fully loved this kid, why the hell had they neglected him for so long? Something wasn't adding up here. Dad folded his newspaper and looked straight at me. "So, tell me all about your first day of school," he said. "You did attend, correct?" I raised a brow. Obviously. "That's why the uniform is on," I said, gesturing to myself. "And, actually, it went a lot better than I thought it was going to go!" Cue Deborah's bullshit. She scoffed. "Yeah, right." I turned my head toward her, already annoyed. "Problem, Debbie?" I asked, voice smooth and sharp. "Stop calling me that! My name is Deborah!" she snapped, her face twisting in irritation. Then she squinted at me, eyes narrowing. "Did you cut your brain off with that ponytail?!" Mom finally spoke up, her voice softer but still carrying an edge of
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
"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
"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.
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
"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,
"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
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
"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
Mom's scream tore through the morning silence, jolting the entire house awake. "CALL THE DOCTOR, QUICK!!" My mother's frantic voice rang out, raw with panic and hope. "HONEY!" "Ma'am, please calm down!" "He blinked just now!" "Mr. Spencer! Can you see me?!" the doctor's voice barked, sharp and urgent. I shot up from my bed and ran to the door, peeking inside with my heart hammering against my ribs. "This is a miracle! He's completely woken up from his coma!" Right on time. "He just moved his finger a bit!" Mom sobbed, her hands clutching his arm like she was afraid to let go. I exhaled, stepping away from the scene before anyone could notice me. Slipping back into my room, I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. This was it. This was the moment of truth. Where did Dad's loyalty truly lie? Would he side with me? Or would he choose his beloved little girl? I didn't leave my room that entire day. Doctors rushed in and out of the house, their hushed voices carrying do