Home / Urban / Dumped on my anniversary, I activated the billionaire system / chapter 45

chapter 45

Author: Bolu Boski

2026-08-01 20:29:03

Julian hit the Nevada desert at dawn, the sedan's engine screaming, the fuel gauge hovering above empty. He didn't stop at the concrete building.

He drove past it, around it, and parked a quarter-mile to the east, behind a ridge of red rock that hid the vehicle from the road.

He walked the rest of the way on foot, the dry air scraping his lungs, the sun climbing behind him, painting the sand in shades of gold and blood.

The building was empty. The steel door was open. The trapdoor was open. T

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chapter 112
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 111
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 110
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 109
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 108
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 107
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a

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