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

The Price of Three Years

Chapter 1

The pen felt unusually heavy. Arthur Vance stared at the tip of the Montblanc fountain pen, watching a tiny bead of black ink swell before dropping onto the thick, cream-colored paper.

Dissolution of Marriage.

That was the legal term printed at the top of the page. It sounded so clinical. So clean. It completely failed to capture the three years he had spent scrubbing vomit off nightclub floors, driving for Uber until his spine ached, and eating expired ramen just so the woman sitting across from him could finish her law degree.

"Are you going to sign it, or are you hoping your illiteracy will magically cure itself if you stare long enough?"

The voice belonged to Julian Sterling. Julian was everything Arthur wasn't right now. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit that probably cost more than Arthur’s kidneys. His hair was perfectly styled, his nails manicured, and his arm rested possessively on the back of Eleanor’s leather chair.

Arthur shifted his gaze to Eleanor. His soon-to-be ex-wife.

She was breathtaking, as always. Cold, sharp, and flawless. She wore a tailored crimson dress, the diamond necklace Julian had bought her resting casually against her collarbone. She wouldn’t even look Arthur in the eye. She was too busy scrolling through her phone.

"Arthur, please," Eleanor sighed, her tone dripping with the kind of exhaustion you’d use on a misbehaving dog. "I have a celebratory dinner at eight. Don't drag this out. We both know this is overdue."

"Overdue?" Arthur’s voice was raspy. He hadn’t slept in two days, having pulled a double shift at the warehouse to pay off the last of her student loan debt. He didn't even know why he'd bothered. Habit, maybe. "I paid your tuition, El. I bought the laptop you used to pass the bar. I skipped my mother’s funeral because I couldn't afford a flight and your textbooks in the same month."

Eleanor finally looked up. Her perfectly arched eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. "And I appreciate your... charity, Arthur. I really do. But you have to be realistic. I’m a junior partner at Sterling & Vance now. Julian is a senior partner. You’re a delivery driver whose car smells like old french fries. We operate in different worlds."

"She’s outgrown you, buddy," Julian smirked, leaning forward to tap the desk. "It happens. She’s a swan, and you’re the mud she had to wade through to fly. Take the hundred grand severance I’m offering you and walk away. That’s more money than a rat like you will see in a lifetime."

Arthur looked at the check sitting next to the divorce papers. One hundred thousand dollars. The price of his dignity. The price of his twenties.

A heavy, suffocating anger pressed against Arthur’s ribs, but he forced it down. Yelling wouldn't do anything. Begging would only give them pleasure. He had learned the hard way that in this world, without money, you had no voice. You had no soul.

With a steady hand, Arthur signed his name on the dotted line.

He didn't touch the check. He stood up, grabbed his faded denim jacket off the back of the chair, and walked toward the heavy mahogany door of the law office.

"Arthur," Eleanor called out. He paused, a pathetic, dying ember of hope fluttering in his chest. Maybe she felt a shred of guilt. Maybe.

"Leave your keys to the apartment on the receptionist's desk," she said flatly. "Julian is moving his things in tonight. I don't want any confusion."

The ember died. It turned to ash, and the ash turned to ice.

"Sure," Arthur said, his voice completely hollow.

He walked out of the office, down the plush carpeted hallway, and into the elevator. When the doors finally closed, the silence of the steel box pressed in on him. His legs gave out. He slid down the wall, putting his head between his knees, gripping his hair until his scalp burned.

He had nothing. No wife, no home, no money. He was twenty-six years old, and his life was entirely, irrevocably over.

Ding.

Arthur blinked. The elevator was only on the tenth floor. The doors hadn't opened.

Ding.

The sound wasn't coming from the elevator speakers. It was coming from inside his head. A sharp, synthetic chime that made his teeth vibrate.

Suddenly, a massive, translucent blue screen snapped into existence right in front of his face. Arthur flinched, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes, but his hands passed right through the glowing blue light.

[HOST STATUS CONFIRMED.]

[TRAUMA THRESHOLD REACHED. EMOTIONAL DETACHMENT DETECTED.]

[BINDING: THE INFINITE WEALTH SYSTEM... 10%... 50%... 100%.]

[BINDING COMPLETE.]

Arthur scrambled backward, hitting the elevator mirror. "What the hell? Am I having a stroke? Is this a hallucination?"

The text on the floating screen shifted, resolving into a crisp, modern interface that looked like a high-end banking app.

[Welcome, Arthur Vance.]

[You have been selected by the Infinite Wealth System. From this moment on, earthly currency is no longer a limitation. Your objective is simple: Consume, Conquer, and Command.]

[Current Balance: $999,999,999,999,999.00]

Arthur stared at the string of nines. His brain stopped working. He counted the commas. Trillions. Quadrillions? It was a number so large it didn't even make sense.

[Rule 1: System funds must be used for asset acquisition, strategic investments, or social domination. They cannot be given away as mindless charity.]

[Rule 2: Spending money generates System Points (SP). SP can be used to purchase physical upgrades, martial skills, and classified information.]

[Rule 3: Have no mercy. Those who look down on you must look up from the dirt.]

[NEW MISSION GENERATED: Make your first purchase.]

[Reward: Beginner's Physical Enhancement Serum.]

The elevator chimed—a real chime this time—and the doors slid open to the ground floor lobby. The cold, rainy air of Valmont City blew in through the revolving doors.

Arthur stood up slowly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his battered smartphone. He opened his banking app. His personal checking account still read $14.32.

But right below it, a new account had appeared. An account with no bank name attached, displaying a string of numbers so long it almost clipped off the edge of the screen.

He wasn't hallucinating. It was real.

Arthur looked out through the glass doors at the rainy city. Thirty seconds ago, he was a broken man ready to fade into obscurity. Now?

He was going to buy the world. And he was going to start by making Julian Sterling choke on his own arrogance.

His phone buzzed. It was an automated text message from Julian’s assistant, a mass invite sent to his old contacts.

Join Julian and Eleanor tonight at 8 PM at The Obsidian Club to celebrate their new beginnings!

Arthur’s lips curled into a slow, dark smile. The Obsidian Club. Valmont City's most exclusive, ultra-luxury private venue.

"System," Arthur whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying new energy. "How much to buy The Obsidian Club?"

[Calculating market value... Assessing premium buyout rate...]

The screen flashed.

Arthur's smile turned into a predatory grin. He stepped out of the elevator and walked into the rain.