2026-08-11 18:10:40The watch store was called Laurent & Fils, and it smelled like old money and leather polish. Glass cases lined every wall, each one glowing soft gold from the display lights underneath. Behind the main counter, a gray haired man in a vest looked up when Ethan walked in wearing the Monarch suit, and his entire posture changed in an instant.
"Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Laurent & Fils. My name is Charles. How may I assist you today?" The man's voice was smooth and practiced, his hands folded neatly at his waist.
"I want to see your Patek Philippe collection. Top shelf only." Ethan walked along the display case slowly, his eyes scanning every piece without rushing.
Charles moved quickly to unlock the rear cabinet. He pulled out a velvet tray and placed it on the glass counter with the kind of care most people reserved for newborn babies.
"This is the Grandmaster Chime, sir. Reference 6300G. One of only seven produced worldwide. We are the only authorized dealer in New York currently holding one. Retail is $680,000." Charles turned the watch gently so the light caught the rose gold case.
Ethan picked it up. The weight felt serious in his hand. Real. Like holding a piece of someone's future.
"What else do you have in that range?" Ethan set the Grandmaster Chime down carefully.
Charles raised both eyebrows but recovered fast. "We have the Celestial 6102R. Astronomical complications, hand engraved star chart on the dial. $420,000."
"I'll take both." Ethan pulled out his phone.
Charles went completely still for two full seconds. "Both, sir?"
"Both." Ethan was already logging into his banking app.
"That comes to $1,100,000 before tax, sir." Charles said it slowly, almost like a warning.
"I understand numbers, Charles. Run it." Ethan's face was perfectly calm, his eyes locked on the older man without any trace of hesitation.
The transaction cleared in under a minute. Charles placed both watches in individual presentation boxes lined with navy silk, and his hands were shaking just enough to notice. Ethan strapped the Grandmaster Chime to his left wrist and slid the Celestial box into the store bag.
His phone buzzed before he even reached the door. $11,000,000 incoming. His total balance blew past the $10 million mark like a train through a paper wall.
Then something else happened.
The system's voice filled his mind again, calm and mechanical and impossible to ignore. Milestone reached: $10,000,000 total cashback. Fate Reward unlocked. Choose one.
Four options appeared in his thoughts, clear as printed text.
Option One: $100,000,000 cash deposit.
Option Two: Ten additional years of natural lifespan.
Option Three: Physical body restored to peak human condition. Ten times current fitness.
Option Four: Charisma doubled. Natural influence over all social interactions.
Ethan stopped walking in the middle of the mall corridor. People moved around him like water around a stone. He closed his eyes.
In my last life, I was weak. I couldn't even stand up from a hospital bed. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't protect myself. I lay there like a dog waiting to be put down while they divided my life into dollar signs.
Never again.
"Option three." He whispered it under his breath, and the system responded instantly.
Selection confirmed. Physical transformation initiating.
The first crack came from somewhere deep inside his spine. It wasn't pain exactly, but pressure, like his entire skeleton was being pulled apart and reassembled by invisible hands. He grabbed the railing near the escalator and gripped it so hard the metal groaned.
His shoulders widened. His soft stomach clenched inward and hardened, muscle fibers knitting together beneath his skin like rope being braided. His arms thickened. His jawline sharpened. The thinning patch at the top of his head filled in with dark, thick hair that pushed out like grass after spring rain. The tired lines around his eyes smoothed away. The dark circles vanished. The slight hunch in his posture straightened out until he stood a full inch taller.
It lasted maybe fifteen seconds.
When it stopped, Ethan opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the store window across the hall. The man staring back at him looked thirty years old. Strong. Sharp. Dangerous in a suit that now fit even better than before because his body had become the kind of body suits were designed for.
A woman passing by actually stumbled over her own feet staring at him.
Ethan released the railing and flexed his fingers. He felt like he could put his fist through a concrete wall and not feel a thing. Every cell in his body hummed with energy he hadn't felt since his twenties.
His phone rang. Claire.
He almost didn't answer. But something inside him wanted this. Needed this. He had swallowed ten years of silence, and every unspoken word was sitting in his throat like broken glass.
He picked up.
"Ethan, finally! I've been calling you for twenty minutes. There's a delivery coming to the house at three. I need you to bring the boxes downstairs and sort them before we get back. And make sure you sign for everything, the last time you missed a delivery I had to wait two extra weeks." Claire's voice was sharp and mechanical, the tone of someone giving instructions to hired help.
"No." Ethan's voice was quiet and level.
Silence on the other end. Then a short, confused laugh. "What do you mean, no? Ethan, I'm not asking you a question. I'm telling you to handle the delivery."
"And I'm telling you no. I'm done, Claire." Ethan leaned against the mall railing, his expression completely empty.
"Done with what? What are you talking about?" Claire's voice climbed half an octave, confusion cracking through the surface.
"I've spent $340,000 on your mother's credit card debt in the last six years. I paid off Derek's DUI lawyer twice. I covered your spa memberships, your designer bags, your annual girls' trips. I paid for Lily's school, her tutors, her dance classes, her braces. I've poured every dollar I've ever earned into your family, and not once, not one single time, has anyone in that house said thank you." Ethan's voice didn't rise. It didn't shake. It came out smooth and cold like ice sliding across tile.
"Ethan, you're being ridiculous right now. This isn't the time for one of your little tantrums." Claire's tone shifted to something dismissive and tight.
"Give me that phone!" Margaret's voice came through loud and harsh in the background, and then she was on the line. "Ethan Moore, what is wrong with you? How dare you speak to my daughter like that? After everything this family has done for you, you ungrateful little worm. You should be on your knees thanking God that Claire even married someone like you!"
"Margaret, listen to me very carefully because I'm only going to say this once." Ethan straightened up from the railing, his new body feeling like a weapon he hadn't yet used. "When you get back from Miami, I want every single one of you packed and gone. You, Derek, Claire, Lily. All of you. Out of my house."
"YOUR house? You think that's YOUR house?" Margaret screamed so loud the speaker crackled.
"It is my house. My name is on the deed. My money paid the mortgage. My sweat kept the lights on. And I'm done being the floor you all wipe your feet on. Pack your things and get out, or I'll have your belongings on the front lawn by the time your plane lands." Ethan's jaw was set tight, his knuckles white around the phone, but his voice never once cracked.
"You've lost your mind! Claire, your husband has completely lost his mind!" Margaret's voice was pulling away from the phone now, shouting at her daughter somewhere in the background.
Ethan hung up.
Then he opened his contacts, scrolled to Margaret's number, and blocked it. He did the same for Derek. He hovered over Claire's name for a moment, then left it. She would need to hear what was coming next.
On a beach in Miami, Claire stared at her phone with her mouth hanging open. Margaret was already on her feet, pacing across the sand, her face red and twisted with fury.
"Book the next flight home. Right now. I don't care what it costs." Margaret jabbed her finger at Derek, who fumbled for his own phone.
Claire looked out at the ocean, the waves rolling in soft and slow, and for the first time in their marriage, she felt something she had never associated with Ethan Moore.
Fear.
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Chapter 75 Part 3
Meanwhile, Margaret had not changed. The promise she made to Claire had a shelf life shorter than the recycled beer she had tried to serve.Over the next few days, she cleaned. She mopped. She wiped tables and emptied trash cans. But her eyes never stopped scanning.She pocketed half smoked cigarettes left behind in ashtrays and tucked them into a plastic bag she kept hidden in her apron for Derek. She collected leftover alcohol from private rooms, pouring dregs of whiskey, vodka, and rum into a plastic water bottle she kept stashed behind the cleaning supplies in the utility closet. When the bottle was full, she planned to transfer it to the kitchen freezer, where nobody ever checked the back shelf.She was careful now. Quiet. Methodical. The supermarket incident had taught her one lesson, but not the one Claire had hoped for. Margaret hadn't learned to stop stealing. She had learned to stop getting caught.One afternoon, she finished sweeping a recently vacated private room and was
Chapter 75 Part 2
Margaret's knees buckled. She dropped to the floor like someone had pulled a trapdoor under her feet. Her palms slapped against her thighs with a sound that echoed off the walls."My own daughter!" she wailed, her voice shooting to a pitch that could shatter crystal. "My own flesh and blood is throwing me away like garbage! After everything I sacrificed for you! After all the years I spent raising you with my bare hands!"She slapped her thighs again, harder."I carried you for nine months!" she sobbed. "Nine months! And this is how you repay me? By kicking me into the street like a stray dog?"Tears poured down her cheeks. Her body rocked back and forth on the floor. Her sequined sneakers scraped against the tile with every dramatic sway.Claire stood over her, watching, her face a battlefield between fury and exhaustion.She knew this routine. She had been defeated by this routine her entire life. The tears, the guilt, the invisible chains that wrapped around her chest every time Ma
Chapter 75 Part 1
Claire burst through the private room door and found Margaret standing by the table with her arms crossed and the man in gold rimmed glasses holding his phone screen toward the doorway like a weapon."Is this your establishment?" the man asked, his voice tight with barely controlled disgust.Claire didn't answer him. She looked at the phone screen. The video was paused on a frame of Margaret pouring beer from one bottle into another, her face clearly visible, the row of empty bottles lined up on the table behind her like evidence at a trial.The blood left Claire's face so fast she had to grab the door frame."Sir," she said, and her voice came out thin and cracked. She swallowed and tried again. "Sir, I am so sorry. I am deeply, deeply sorry for what you witnessed.""Sorry doesn't undo what I saw," the man said, adjusting his glasses. "That woman just told me to my face that she recycles leftover drinks and serves them to new customers. In a licensed bar. With a straight face.""I un
Chapter 74 Part 3
She picked up the recycled bottle and slammed it down on the table hard enough to make the empty bottles rattle."You think you can walk in here and tell me how to run my own family's business?" she continued, stepping toward him. "I've been running households and kitchens since before you could tie your own shoes. Don't you dare stand in my bar and lecture me about hygiene.""This is not your bar," the man said, his phone still recording, his voice calm but his jaw tight. "This is a licensed establishment that serves the public. And what I just watched you do is grounds for immediate shutdown by the health department.""Go ahead and call them!" Margaret shouted, her face flushing crimson. "Call whoever you want! I'll tell them exactly what I told you. I was saving money. I was being smart. Something you clearly know nothing about.""You were pouring strangers' saliva into a bottle and planning to serve it to paying customers," the man said, each word landing like a gavel. "That's not
Chapter 74 Part 2
Bottle by bottle, she tilted the leftover beer into the empty one. The liquids mixed together, pale gold blending with amber, flat dregs combining with still carbonated remnants. A small foam head formed at the top as the recycled beer settled.She held the bottle up and squinted. It looked almost full. Almost perfect."Good as new," she said softly, reaching for the cap that had been tossed onto the table.She was pressing the cap back onto the bottle with her thumb when the door opened behind her.A man stepped in. Mid fifties, silver hair combed neatly to one side, thin gold rimmed glasses sitting on a narrow nose. He wore a charcoal suit and carried himself with the quiet authority of someone who signed checks that other people cashed.He stopped two steps inside the door, his eyes moving from Margaret to the bottle in her hand to the row of empty bottles on the table."Excuse me," he said, his voice polite but sharp. "What exactly are you doing?"Margaret didn't flinch. She didn't
Chapter 74 Part 1
Kevin stood frozen, holding the plate of floor fruit like it was a ticking bomb."Mrs. Chen, I really don't think we should...""You think too much," Margaret said, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. "That's your problem. Too much thinking, not enough doing."She reached over, plucked a chunk of watermelon from the plate, and popped it into her mouth.She chewed slowly, deliberately, like a food critic sampling a five star dessert. Her jaw worked left and right. She swallowed, licked her lips, and nodded."Delicious," she said, tapping the edge of the plate. "See? Perfectly fine. Better than fine. The floor water added a little mineral flavor. It's practically spa fruit now."Kevin's stomach turned."Take it," Margaret said, pushing the plate firmly into his hands. "Booth A08 has been waiting for fifteen minutes. If they complain, it's your tip that disappears, not mine."Kevin looked down at the plate. The grape with the hair on it was still there, nestled between two slices of
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