Ding! My System Turns Your Arrogance Into Cash

Chapter 10: Seats Don’t Determine Anything

Nicholas stood behind the heavy mahogany podium, looking out at the sea of doubtful faces.

He cleared his throat, his voice projecting clearly through the room without even using the microphone.

"The solution is actually quite simple if you know how to read the hidden assets," Nicholas began smoothly.

He tapped the digital screen on the podium, his fingers moving with absolute certainty and high speed.

"First, we slice the secondary shipping logistics division and sell it to the European conglomerate," he explained.

"That immediately injects twenty-five million dollars in liquid cash to stall the primary creditors."

Professor Lawson scoffed, leaning back with a smug grin. "That's basic textbook knowledge, Peterson. It's not enough."

"I am not finished," Nicholas replied, his icy gaze locking onto the arrogant professor.

"We then use the Tier 2 market manipulation data to short the competitor’s fuel supply stocks," Nicholas revealed.

He brought up a series of real-time financial charts that weren't even available to the public yet.

"By doing this, we wipe out forty percent of the remaining interest debt within exactly twelve hours."

The entire lecture hall fell into a shocking, breathless silence as the complex numbers aligned perfectly.

Professor Lawson’s smug grin froze instantly, his jaw dropping as he stared at the flawless data.

A heavy bead of cold sweat rolled down Lawson's forehead, his hands trembling against his desk.

At the back of the room, the University Dean stood up from his observation seat, his eyes wide with absolute awe.

"Brilliant... completely brilliant!" the Dean whispered loudly, clapping his hands in pure admiration.

The elite students instantly erupted into a loud wave of whispers, staring at Nicholas like he was a financial god.

Nicholas didn't smile; he simply stepped away from the podium and walked out of the hall before the class was even dismissed.

As he stepped into the marble-lined hallway, a shadow quickly rushed out from a side corner, blocking his path.

Miranda stood there, her eyes watery and her lower lip trembling in a perfectly practiced, pitiful expression.

"Nicholas, please! Just give me two minutes!" Miranda cried out, reaching her hands toward his sharp suit jacket.

"I was so wrong about everything, Nico. You have to believe me!" she sobbed, looking up at him desperately.

Nicholas stopped, his handsome face remaining an unreadable, ice-cold mask as he looked down at her.

"What do you want, Miranda?" Nicholas asked, his tone completely flat and empty of any emotion.

"I only dated Chad to motivate you!" Miranda claimed frantically, her voice full of fake, desperate tears.

"I saw you working so hard at that diner, and it broke my heart. I wanted to push you to achieve your true potential!"

"Everything I did... I did it for us, Nicholas! I wanted to make you work harder for our beautiful future!"

Nicholas let out a short, quiet chuckle that sounded entirely devoid of any warmth or humor.

He stepped closer, his imposing stature towering over her as his eyes narrowed into two freezing slits.

"A recycled product doesn't deserve a second look, Miranda," Nicholas said, his voice cutting through her lies like a blade.

Miranda froze completely, her fake tears stopping instantly as her face flushed with an intense, burning humiliation.

"N-Nicholas... how can you say that to me?" she whispered, her hands dropping to her sides in utter defeat.

"Because it is the truth. Now get out of my way," Nicholas commanded, turning on his heel toward the exit doors.

He pushed through the heavy glass doors, stepping out into the bright, sunny afternoon courtyard.

Suddenly, a loud screech of expensive tires echoed across the stone pavement, drawing the attention of the entire crowd.

A sleek, heavily armored black luxury Mercedes van pulled right up to the edge of the courtyard grass.

Four burly bodyguards dressed in identical black suits instantly stepped out, forming a secure human wall.

The back door opened, and an elegant, elderly man in a bespoke ten-thousand-dollar pinstripe suit stepped into the light.

It was Chairman Thomas, the university’s absolute biggest corporate donor and the direct superior to Professor Vance.

The surrounding students gasped, quickly backing away to give the incredibly powerful billionaire plenty of room.

Miranda watched from the hallway doors, her heart pounding as she wondered what a tycoon of that level was doing here.

Chairman Thomas adjusted his silk tie, his sharp eyes brassily scanning the large crowd of whispering students.

The powerful billionaire looks around the crowd, locks eyes with Nicholas, and walks directly toward him.