My Secret TikTok Life: Family Disgrace to Global Kingmaker

Chapter 24: The Reprieve

I woke up on the concrete floor to a sound that hadn't been there when I collapsed. It was a deep, rhythmic hum—the kind of vibration that felt like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. I opened my eyes, and for the first time, I didn't see the dark, damp corners of a basement. I saw the glow of three high-definition monitors flickering with lines of green and white code.

Beside the monitors sat a vertical metal rack. It was filled with black server blades, their tiny LEDs blinking in a synchronized dance. Kaelen was slumped in his chair, his head lolling to the side, a half-eaten protein bar still clutched in his hand. He had stayed up all night. He had built us a brain.

[Physical Integrity: 45% (Recovering)][Liquidity: $2,000.00][Status: Infrastructure Initialized.]

The math settled in my head as the sleep cleared. We had started with five thousand. Kaelen had burned through two thousand for the rack, the high-spec blades, and a dedicated satellite uplink that bypassed the local fiber entirely. He hadn't just bought hardware; he’d bought us a fortress.

"You're awake," a voice said from the shadows near the stairs.

Elara walked into the light. She looked different. She had washed the grime of the city from her face, and her hair was tied back in a practical knot. She was carrying a bag of steaming takeout containers and a thick, wool blanket.

"I didn't go to the safe house," she said, her voice firm before I could even argue. "I spent the thousand dollars, Salim. Not on a fancy room where I’d be sitting alone waiting for a black SUV to find me. I spent it on us."

She started pulling things out of various bags tucked near the entrance. A plush, memory-foam mattress topper that she’d spread over a corner of the concrete. A small electric stove. Three heavy-duty sleeping bags. A stack of new clothes—simple, dark hoodies, sturdy boots, and thermal layers. And food. Real food.

"I used a delivery app and a series of couriers to drop things at different corners," she explained, a bit of pride in her voice. "I walked the last six blocks. No one followed me. I’m not going to be the 'talent' that hides while you two kill yourselves in a basement. If this is the start of an empire, I want to be in the throne room."

Kaelen stirred at the smell of the food—thick beef stew and fresh bread. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the rack of servers. "It's live, Salim. Our own node. We’re not piggybacking on the laundromat anymore. I’ve encrypted the uplink so deeply that even if the Bakars searched every signal in the city, they’d just see a weather station's background noise."

I stood up and walked over to the monitors. I felt the heat coming off the machines. This was real. We had spent three thousand dollars to turn a damp hole into a headquarters.

"Sit down, Salim," Elara commanded, pushing a bowl of stew into my hands. "Eat. Then we talk."

The three of us sat in a circle on the new mattress topper, the light of the servers casting long shadows against the brick. It was the first time since I’d been cast out of the Bakar estate that I felt a sense of belonging. I wasn't a waiter. I wasn't the "TikTok Prince." I was at a table with a genius and a star.

"We have two thousand dollars left," I said after the first few bites. "That’s our war chest. But money is just fuel. We need a vehicle. To the world, Wraith Media is a phantom that hacks algorithms and disappears. If we want to destroy the Bakar Group, we have to become a legitimate force."

"Legitimate?" Kaelen scoffed. "We’re living under a laundry mat."

"For now," I said. "But my father doesn't fear hackers. He fears competition. He fears a company that can take his market share and make his towers look like relics. We’re going to formalize Wraith Media. We need a front. A physical office eventually, a legal tax ID, and a face that isn't mine or Elara’s."

Elara tilted her head. "A face?"

"A CEO," I said. "Someone with gravitas. Someone who looks like they belong in a boardroom but has enough of a grudge against the elite to take orders from a kid in a basement. I’ll stay in the shadows—the 'Ghost Manager.' I’ll pull the strings, find the talent, and run the System. Our CEO will be the one who signs the contracts and shakes the hands."

"And what about the other talents you mentioned?" Elara asked. "The ones from the boost?"

"They’re just the beginning," I told her. "If you’re the only talent, they can isolate you. But if Wraith Media is a stable of the 'Broken S-Ranks'—the photographers, writers, and designers who were snubbed by the old guard—then we’re not a trend. We’re an era."

I looked at the monitors, my mind already scanning the digital horizon. The System began to pulse, highlighting profiles of creators who were currently being suppressed by the old-money gatekeepers who still thought billboards were the peak of advertising.

"I'm going to find them," I said. "The ones who are too loud or too honest for the Bakar Agency. We’ll offer them freedom. We’ll take a commission, they’ll get the fame, and Wraith Media will get the power."

Kaelen looked at the servers, then back at me. "You’re really doing this. You’re building a rival dynasty from a basement."

"I'm building a meritocracy," I corrected him. "In my father's world, you win because of who your father was. In my world, you win because you're the best. That’s the only way to make the Bakar name obsolete."

Elara reached out and touched my hand. Her grip was firm. "I like that vision, Salim. It beats running."

"We're done running," I said. "From now on, we move forward. Kaelen, I want you to start looking for a 'Vessel'—someone who can play the part of our CEO. Look for disgraced executives, fallen stars, anyone who has the look of power but has lost the means. And Elara... tomorrow, we record. No more alleyways. We use the high-fidelity mics Kaelen ordered. We show the world that Wraith Media doesn't just have an algorithm. It has a soul."

I leaned back against the server rack. The metal was warm. For the first time, the "Heart of Ice" didn't feel like a defense mechanism. It felt like a foundation. I looked around the room—the cheap furniture, the piles of new clothes, the humming machines. It was a mess, but it was the strongest fortress in New York.

[Influence Level: -20 (Rising)][Empire Status: Level 2 - The Bunker][Current Objective: Recruit 'The Vessel'.]

The Bakars were upstairs in their tower, looking at their city and seeing their legacy. They didn't realize that in a basement in the Bronx, the new world had just finished dinner.