My Secret TikTok Life: Family Disgrace to Global Kingmaker

Chapter 23: The Wraith-Boost

The basement was a tomb of cold concrete, illuminated only by the frantic blue light of Kaelen’s single laptop screen. Elara sat on a milk crate in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees. She looked exhausted, but her gaze was fixed on me. She had seen the black SUVs at the diner; she knew now that the "Ghost Manager" wasn't just a voice on a burner phone. I was the only thing standing between her and a Bakar holding cell.

I leaned against the damp brick wall, my vision swimming. The Ghost Interface was the only thing keeping my head straight.

[Current Liquidity: $5.00] [Physical Integrity: 10% (Critical)] [System Recommendation: Immediate Capital Generation.]

I was broke. The $150 from Elara’s first commission had been devoured by the bodega run and the subway fares to get us to this hole in the Bronx. To build a rival empire, I didn't just need fame; I needed cash flow.

"Kaelen," I said, my voice raspy. "Forget the Bakar servers for a second. Look at the platform's global blacklist."

Kaelen tapped his keys, his brow furrowing. "Salim, that’s protected by the social media conglomerates. Even if I get in, their security is tighter than the NSA's. We don't have the hardware to crack that."

"We don't need to crack it," I said. "The System has already identified the 'logic' they use to shadow-ban creators. It’s a simple tag-based suppression system. If a creator is flagged as 'Controversial' or 'Unmarketable,' their reach is throttled by 99%."

I looked at the Ghost Interface. A list of five creators appeared, highlighted in neon gold. These were the "Broken Talents"—people who had been blacklisted by the Bakar Group’s influence, not because they lacked skill, but because they were too dangerous for the Bakar image. A street photographer, a fitness coach, a makeup artist, a parkour athlete, and a tech reviewer.

[System Analysis: 5 Targets Identified.] [Strategy: The Wraith-Boost. Rewrite suppression tags.]

"I'm going to send you a script," I told Kaelen. "It’s not a hack. It’s a bypass. It tells the platform's algorithm that these five accounts are 'Educational' and 'High-Retention.' It strips away the Bakar-mandated 'Shadow' tag and replaces it with an 'Organic Growth' priority."

I used the encrypted chat to reach out to the five targets.

“The platforms have put a blindfold on your audience. For $1,000, I will remove it. I don't work for the agencies, and I don't work for the Bakars. I own the algorithm. Pay the Ghost, and you will trend within the hour. One-time offer.”

"They're not going to believe you," Elara whispered from her crate. "Why would they pay a stranger a thousand dollars when they're already struggling?"

"Because they know something is wrong with their numbers," I said. "And I’m the only one who just proved I can make someone like you go viral in a single night."

The first chime hit five minutes later. The photographer. He had been trying to post photos of Bakar slum-lord conditions for a year, and his views never broke a hundred. He was desperate to be seen. Then the fitness coach. One by one, the notifications pinged.

[Notification: $1,000.00 USDT Received.] [Notification: $1,000.00 USDT Received.] [Current Liquidity: $5,005.00]

"They paid," Kaelen whispered, staring at the crypto balance on his laptop. "Salim, that’s five thousand dollars. We can actually buy hardware now."

"Don't just buy hardware," I said. "Kaelen, run the script. Now."

I watched the Ghost Interface as the commands went out. I wasn't using my father’s "God-Key" to steal his money. I was using my own System to rewrite the digital landscape. Across the city, the "blindfold" was lifted.

The photographer posted a single image of a crumbling Bakar-owned tenement. Without the shadow-ban, the image didn't stay at 100 views. It hit 10,000 in ten minutes. Then 100,000. The fitness coach’s video on "The Corporate Gym Lie" exploded. The tech reviewer’s takedown of Bakar-subsidized electronics started trending at #1.

The Bakars wouldn't see this yet—they didn't care about "internet noise." But their stock price would feel it tomorrow. More importantly, these five creators now belonged to me. I had given them their voices back, and in return, I had the capital to build a fortress.

"Kaelen, take two thousand," I said, my voice barely a whisper as the exhaustion finally started to win. "Find a supplier for rack-mounted servers. We need our own node. If we keep using this laptop, we’re just tenants in someone else’s house."

"And the rest?" Elara asked, walking over to me.

"A thousand for your safe house," I said. "And two thousand for the 'Empire Fund.' We’re going to need it to buy our first physical asset."

I slumped against the brick wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold concrete. I pulled out a chocolate bar, but I didn't have the strength to open it. My Physical Integrity hit 7%.

"Salim?" Elara’s voice was soft, concerned.

"The Bakars think they own the world because they own the ground," I muttered, my eyes fluttering shut. "They don't realize... the ground is made of data now. And I own the data."

[System Note: User entering 'Power Save' mode. Capital target achieved.]

I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep on the floor of a Bronx laundry basement. I had $5,000. I had a team. And I had just proven that I didn't need a single cent of Bakar money to build an empire. The Ghost wasn't just a name anymore. It was a competitor.