I couldn't believe I was called into the teacher's office. Motherfuckers really didn't know how to appreciate anything good, huh? And my math teacher seemed way too determined to talk to me. "It's good that you didn't just leave," she said, smiling like she hadn't dragged me here herself under the threat of detention. Bitch. "What do you want?" I scowled, not bothering to hide how irritated I felt. "I'm not exactly sure what happened to you, but I think you've changed a lot over the summer." She leaned forward slightly. "So I have something to ask of you. Do you think you can do it?" "No." I answered immediately. "Do I look like a charity worker?" She sighed, like she expected that response but was still disappointed by it. "Jack, you've got a lot of the other students quite scared of you already." "And?" "So I just need one favor from you. I'd like your help in keeping one of my favorite students from being bullied—Jared Jameson." "Who the fuck is Jared Jameson?" I asked.
The church stood solemnly atop the hill, its white stone walls glowing faintly under the evening sky. A long flight of uneven stone steps stretched from the base to the entrance, worn down by decades of footsteps. Even from a distance, I could hear the murmuring of voices inside. If I showed up now, I'd definitely be noticed. What should I even ask first? Why did you betray me? Was I really that bad of a boss? Will my mom or dad be there? Would they even mourn me? What the fuck should I even do? I clenched my fists, lost in my thoughts, until— "My child, why are you here?" I snapped my head up and nearly jumped out of my skin. An old priest stood in front of me. His face was wrinkled, his expression calm but unreadable. I recognized him—Bob or Paul or something. I remembered being scared shitless of him as a kid, his cold eyes seeming to pierce right through me. "Excuse me, Father?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay even. "Why are you here?" His voice was firm. "This place on
Liam lunged at me, his fist cutting through the air with force. I caught it easily, my fingers wrapping around his knuckles like a vice. He struggled, trying to pull away, but my grip held firm. "Your punches are already different than before," I smirked, yanking his arm forward and throwing the punch right back into his face. His head snapped back, and I saw the realization dawn in his eyes—I had baited him, and he fell for it. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and let out a chuckle. "Come on, man! Don't bitch out! I've only just started with you!" He thrashed in my grip, genuinely trying to escape, but it was pathetic. I slapped him around like he was a joke, jerking him back and forth like a ragdoll while he flailed. Every time he tried to get his footing, I shoved him again, making sure he understood just how outmatched he was. "E-enough! I lost! I'm sorry!" Liam gasped, his voice strained. "I take back what I said!" "Stop fucking around, square jaw! Are you even sure you're a
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was so late for class. If it weren't for Damien calling me and asking where I was, I wouldn't have even woken up at all. A tardy after getting a warning from the Dean wouldn't look good on my record at all. I nearly kicked down the classroom door, only to be met with an eerie silence. Everyone had suddenly shut up and turned their attention to me. "Shit, what the fuck are you looking at? Can no one be late anymore? What's up with the atmosphere?" Before I could sit down, a familiar blonde stepped in front of me, looking nervous. His buddy stood behind him like a scared puppy. It had been three days and a weekend since the incident, and they were finally back at school. "Uh, Jack?" The blonde swallowed. "What?" I hissed. Round three? "We were in the wrong last week!" he blurted out. "Jason kept on forcing us, so we had no choice but to keep going." He hesitated. "Anyway, we're sorry." I raised a brow. That whole thing had been such a mess, I'd barely thought
"He took out four guys by himself?" "Yeah, from the Roth gang." The Roth gang? That bastard took over my gang?! I jolted awake. "What'd you do to him? How badly did you beat him?" someone asked. "Not at all." Dammit. Where am I? I tried moving but quickly realized I was tied to a fucking chair. A shadow loomed in front of me. Tracksuit. Vulture tattoo. Cigar breath mixed with whiskey. Cormac "The Blade." A crime lord, a legend, and a royal pain in the ass in my last life. "It's nice to meet you, kid," he said, watching me like I was some kind of exotic animal. "I've been dying to meet you after hearing all the rumors. I forgot to introduce myself—you must be wondering who I am." Like hell I was wondering. I knew exactly who he was. "This is actually pretty surprising," he mused, rubbing his chin. "I heard you were hot shit these days, so I just wanted to see what you looked like. But you're pretty handsome. Do they choose the strongest in school based on looks now?" He'
I woke up feeling strangely energized. My room was clean, everything put back in its original place. Guess Dad really wanted to calm me down. Too bad it didn't work. At least my ribs weren't broken, so I hadn't failed the mission yet. Though I was starting to get frustrated with the vagueness of it all. Was my walk home yesterday not interesting enough? I jumped out of bed and made my way downstairs, avoiding everyone. If I left now, maybe I wouldn't bring any trouble with me. Just as I reached for the door, a voice called out. "Hey there." A man stood outside, smiling at me through the window. My body tensed. "Jack? Hey, I already know everything. Come on out." Fuck. They found me already? Did he really think I'd just open the door and go peacefully? "Fuck off!" I snapped, yanking the blinds down. The man sighed. "Ah, I'll just use the key your old man gave me." I froze. The key Dad gave him? The door unlocked. I grabbed the nearest weapon—a broom from a passing maid—and sw
I ended up telling him everything—well, almost everything. I explained how I had no ties to either gang but that after beating up a few bullies, both factions were suddenly interested in recruiting me. I made it clear that I wanted no part of either. Of course, I left out the part about being reborn and the fact that Jared's father had personally called me. I wasn't even sure if the cops knew who the Vultures' leader was. Hell, I hadn't been entirely sure myself until yesterday. In the end, my story had to be vague. If I said too much, I'd have to explain why I knew so much about gang life and territory, which would lead to questions I couldn't answer without sounding like a lunatic. Explaining that voices only I could hear were telling me to complete tasks? Yeah, that was a one-way ticket to a padded cell. So instead, I played the part of the scared little kid who didn't know what to do. And it worked. "I'm glad you told me the truth," Dean said after a pause. Then, tilting his
Damien handled his wine well—too well, maybe. His only problem was that he talked too much when he drank, saying whatever flirtatious thing came to mind. Liquid courage at its finest. Fresh air seemed to be working on him as we took a detour through a park. The streetlights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows along the paved path. "So you went with Jason that day, and now he's hospitalized?" Damien repeated, still trying to piece everything together. "But to think that the Vulture gang is recruiting high schoolers... that's pretty scary." "It's been like that for a long time." I exhaled. "Can't believe I got caught up with them again." "Again?" He gave me a curious look. "You knew them before?" "Something like that." More than something—I'd almost destroyed them before I died. Damien studied me carefully. "Is that why you've been so different?" "In a way." I glanced at him. "Am I really that different?" "You're definitely different now. You don't take shit from anybody like
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