Divorced on Monday, Bought the City on Tuesday: The Infinite

The New Boss

Chapter 2

The rain in Valmont City always smelled like exhaust fumes and wet asphalt. Usually, it depressed Arthur. Tonight, it felt like a baptism.

He stood on the sidewalk across the street from The Obsidian Club. It was a massive, brutalist building made of black glass and steel, towering over the financial district like a monolith. The entrance was flanked by velvet ropes, massive security guards in tailored suits, and a line of imported supercars waiting for the valets.

This was where the elite of Valmont came to play. A single cocktail here cost more than Arthur’s monthly grocery budget.

He looked down at his phone. The blue screen of the System hovered faintly over his phone's interface.

[Target Asset: The Obsidian Club]

[Current Owner: Marcus Thorne (Thorne Syndicate)]

[Market Value: $120,000,000]

[Hostile Buyout Price (Instant Transfer): $300,000,000]

[Do you wish to proceed? Y/N]

Arthur didn’t even blink. Three hundred million dollars. Just a few hours ago, he had almost cried because he dropped a five-dollar bill in a puddle. Now, he was about to spend three hundred million on a whim just to ruin his ex-wife's dinner.

He tapped Y.

For a second, nothing happened. The rain kept falling. Arthur held his breath, wondering if this was all an elaborate psychotic break brought on by sleep deprivation.

Then, his phone pinged with a notification.

[Transaction Complete. Funds deducted.]

[Congratulations. You are now the sole proprietor of The Obsidian Club. Transfer of deeds, liquor licenses, and management authority has been digitally expedited and finalized via System proxies.]

[MISSION COMPLETE. Make your first purchase.]

[Reward: Beginner's Physical Enhancement Serum distributed to Host's inventory.]

A sudden wave of heat washed over Arthur. It didn't come from the cold night air; it came from inside his own veins. The exhaustion that had plagued him for three years evaporated. The dull ache in his lower back vanished. He felt his muscles tighten, his posture straighten, and his vision sharpen to a terrifying degree. He could see the individual raindrops hitting the black pavement across the street. He could hear the low hum of the neon signs.

He felt... powerful.

Arthur pocketed his phone and crossed the street. He didn't bother dodging the puddles.

As he approached the velvet ropes, a hulking security guard stepped in his path. The man looked Arthur up and down, taking in the cheap, rain-soaked denim jacket, the scuffed work boots, and the messy hair. The guard’s expression twisted into a sneer of pure disgust.

"Lost, buddy?" the guard grunted, crossing his massive arms. "The soup kitchen is three blocks down on 5th Avenue. Back away from the door."

Arthur didn't flinch. Before the System, he would have lowered his head, apologized, and scurried away. Now, he just looked the guard dead in the eye.

"I'm here for the Sterling-Vance party," Arthur said, his voice completely calm.

The guard let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, right. And I'm the King of England. This is a private event. Ultra-VIP. You don't have the dress code, you don't have the money, and you sure as hell don't have an invite. Beat it before I break your legs for loitering."

Just as the guard reached out to shove Arthur backward, the heavy glass doors of the club pushed open.

Julian Sterling walked out, a lit cigar clamped between his teeth, holding an umbrella over Eleanor. They were flanked by three other lawyers from their firm, all laughing loudly.

Julian spotted Arthur, and he froze. Then, a massive, cruel smile spread across his face.

"Well, well, well," Julian mocked, stepping forward. "Look who crawled out of the gutter. I sent you that text as a joke, Arthur. I didn't think you'd actually be pathetic enough to show up."

Eleanor rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill. "Arthur, this is pathetic. Are you here to beg for that severance check? I told you to leave the keys at the office."

"I'm not here for you, Eleanor," Arthur said, his tone devoid of the warmth he used to give her. It caught her off guard. She blinked, looking at him closely. He looked... different. Taller, somehow. Less burdened.

"Then why are you here, trash?" Julian spat, blowing a cloud of cigar smoke in Arthur's direction. He turned to the security guard. "Frank, why is this vagrant standing on the VIP carpet? I'm renting the penthouse suite tonight. I don't pay you people to let the local wildlife breathe my air."

Frank, the guard, immediately paled and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling. I was just about to toss him into the alley."

Frank lunged forward, grabbing Arthur by the collar of his jacket. "Alright, punk, you asked for it"

"Frank. Take your hands off him right now."

The voice sliced through the rain like a whip. It was sharp, authoritative, and laced with absolute panic.

Everyone turned. Standing in the doorway of the club was an older man in a pristine three-piece suit. He was completely bald, wore wire-rimmed glasses, and currently looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

It was Elias Vance no relation to Arthur, just a coincidence of a name. Elias was the legendary general manager of The Obsidian Club. A man who regularly rubbed shoulders with senators, cartel bosses, and tech billionaires.

Julian immediately smiled, stepping forward to greet the manager. "Elias! Good to see you. Don't worry about this mess, your guard was just taking out the trash"

Elias ignored Julian entirely. He didn't even look at the billionaire lawyer. He shoved past Julian, nearly knocking Eleanor over, and practically sprinted through the rain until he stopped right in front of Arthur.

To the absolute shock of everyone present, Elias a man who refused to bow to mayors bent perfectly at the waist in a deep, reverent bow.

"Mr. Vance," Elias practically shouted over the rain, his voice trembling. "I am so deeply sorry. We just received the notification from the syndicate. I had no idea you had arrived. Please, forgive this idiot's insolence."

The street went dead silent. The only sound was the patter of the rain.

Frank, the guard, dropped his hands from Arthur's collar as if he had touched a live electrical wire. The color drained completely from his face.

Julian’s cigar fell out of his mouth, splashing into a puddle on the red carpet. "Elias... what the hell are you doing? Why are you bowing to my ex-wife's deadbeat husband?"

Elias straightened up, shooting Julian a look of pure, unadulterated venom.

"Watch your tone, Mr. Sterling," Elias hissed. "You are speaking to the new absolute majority owner of The Obsidian Club."