The screen of Max’s cracked phone glowed dimly in the rain-soaked darkness, its light flickering like a dying star. It buzzed again in his trembling hand, the name Mr. Brandon blinking on the caller ID. With everything inside him screaming, aching, breaking, Max answered.“MAX!” The voice on the other end exploded with fury.“I…I delivered the…”“Don’t talk, just listen.” Mr. Brandon’s voice was sharp and cold. “What the hell did you do? The client’s furious. He said the package was smeared, bent, and you were late! He left a one-star review, called you ‘the definition of street trash’ and ‘a bumbling lowlife. Worst of all you punched our client?’ Max… that was a premium client. Our biggest. You just ruined our reputation for a damn package.”Max remained silent, water dripping down his brow and into his bruised eye.“You’re fired. Do not come back. Ever.”The call ended.Just like that, the little stability Max had left was gone. He stood still for a moment under the relentless rain.

Dr. McCormick arrived at the restaurant less than ten minutes after receiving Jerry’s call. He burst in with urgency, his face tight with concern—but not for the right reasons. His suit jacket flapped as he made his way to the table where his son stood waiting, surrounded by Sarah, Trisha, Max, Roland, and, at the head of the table, Arnold Brick.“What’s going on here?” Dr. McCormick asked, eyes scanning the tense group.Jerry stepped forward with a satisfied grin. “Dad, you’re not going to believe this—Arnold Brick here just made an offer that could change the fate of the school.”Arnold didn’t rise, but he gave a nod of acknowledgement and crossed one leg over the other, calm and composed.Jerry continued, “He’s offering twenty-five million dollars to the school’s account. But there’s a condition. Sarah has to agree to date him.”Dr. McCormick raised his brows, taking a moment to process. “Twenty-five million?”Arnold clarified, “A wire transfer. Straight to the school's development

The moment Max’s voice cut through the music and murmurs, it was as though the entire club paused. Arnold slowly turned to face him, his eyes squinting in disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite process what had just been said.“What did you just say?” Arnold asked, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but his face betrayed his rising fury. Red crept up his neck and into his cheeks like boiling water.Max didn’t flinch. “I said it’s never going to happen.”The audacity of the statement sent a wave of gasps through the room. Even the DJ momentarily lowered the volume. All eyes were now on the two men—one, a self-declared king of the club, the other, a boy who had just spat in the face of that kingdom.Arnold’s jaw twitched. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he barked, his voice rising, teeth clenched.He turned to the rest of the room, arms outstretched. “Look at this fool,” he said with a twisted grin, trying to save face. “This nobody dares challenge me? ME?”He turned sharply bac

Andrew emerged from the deputy manager’s office, grinning with pride. The deputy had promised him that the contract was as good as signed. With the change in Apex Imperium’s management, Andrew had seen an opening to squeeze his way in. He believed his charm and the deputy manager’s loyalty had secured his deal.“The new CEO signs it this morning,” the deputy had said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s your contract—no one else’s.”Andrew strutted out of the office like he owned the building. He didn’t notice that, a few floors above, someone else was finalizing more significant documents than a mere contract. Max, still slightly rattled from his earlier encounter with the guards, was seated inside the manager’s office, pen in hand. His signature flowed across the pages: contract after contract, deal after deal. He was now officially the CEO of Apex Imperium, inheriting the Luckey family’s empire in full swing.Dorothy, the general manager, sat across from him with a professional smile

Jacob scoffed so loudly it echoed through the entire room. The sound was mocking, theatrical. He leaned back on his chair, arms spread across its back like he owned the place. “Come on,” he said, his eyes darting around the room for validation, “you don’t expect us to believe that is a real Class 3X bag, do you?”Everyone’s attention shifted back to Max, who stood quietly beside Trisha, holding the now-unwrapped bag. The lights gleamed against its metallic accents, but the room was caught in a strange silence, waiting for someone else to say something.“Let’s be real,” Jacob continued, standing up this time, feeding off the silent tension. “You can get a fake copy for what—ninety bucks? Maybe less if you know the right streets.”Low laughter trickled around the hall.Max didn’t move. His eyes stayed low. The rain had stopped, but the wetness on his shoulders had soaked into the air around him.Trisha stepped forward. “Jacob, shut up.”It was sharp. Everyone turned toward her now.“I d