My Secret TikTok Life: Family Disgrace to Global Kingmaker

Chapter 6: The Rain of Scorn

The subway was a temporary reprieve, but the transit police eventually did their rounds. I was kicked out of the station at 4:00 AM for "loitering." Back into the rain I went. My neon green shoes were now waterlogged sponges, making a pathetic squelch with every step.

I found myself walking toward a small, 24-hour parking garage near the fashion district. I didn't have my Audi R8 anymore, but I had a private locker there where I kept some spare gym gear and, more importantly, an old mountain bike. It wasn't much, but it was transportation. It was a way to move faster than the "loser" pace I was currently stuck at.

As I approached the garage, I saw a familiar flash of orange. It was my R8. It was parked right out front, the engine idling with a low, expensive purr that mocked my shivering frame.

Marcus was leaning against the hood, holding a designer umbrella that kept him perfectly dry. He was wearing a fresh suit, probably having just come from an after-party. He looked at me, his eyes traveling from my soaked hoodie down to the neon green shoes.

He didn't say anything at first. He just pulled out his phone and snapped a photo.

"The lighting is terrible, but the contrast is amazing," Marcus said, his voice bright with malice. "The 'King of TikTok' looks like he’s about to ask me for spare change. Honestly, Salim, I thought you’d at least make it until sunrise before hitting the streets."

"What are you doing here, Marcus?" I asked. My voice was raspy, my throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper.

"Oh, Father forgot one thing," Marcus said, reaching into the car. He pulled out a small, leather gym bag. My bag. "You left this in the trunk. I was going to throw it away, but then I thought... no, let’s be charitable. Let’s give Salim back his 'assets.'"

He unzipped the bag and dumped the contents into the gutter. My workout clothes, a pair of expensive headphones, and a spare set of keys—the keys to the locker I was heading for—hit the oily, rain-slicked pavement.

"There you go," Marcus sneered. "Everything you’re worth, lying in the trash where it belongs."

I stepped forward to grab the keys, but Marcus moved faster. He didn't pick them up. He kicked them. He sent the silver ring skidding across the asphalt, over the curb, and straight into the black, churning water of a storm drain.

Clink.

The sound was tiny, but in the silence of the empty street, it felt like a gunshot. My only way to get that bike, my only way to get my spare gear—gone.

"Oops," Marcus said, his face a mask of fake concern. "I guess you’re not as good at 'managing' your own stuff as you are at managing other people's, huh?"

He hopped into the driver's seat of my car. He revved the engine, the exhaust spitting a cloud of heat that felt like a taunt against my freezing skin.

"Don't worry, Salim," he shouted over the roar of the engine. "I’ll make sure to post that photo. I’ll tag all your influencer 'friends.' Let's see how many 'likes' you get when everyone knows you're officially a beggar."

He floored it. The R8 screamed as it tore away, intentionally hitting a deep puddle right next to me. A massive wave of cold, dirty street water slammed into me, soaking the "dry" hoodie I’d managed to find and knocking me back against a concrete pillar.

I sat there on the wet ground, the taste of oil and grit in my mouth. I watched the red taillights of my own car disappear into the gray mist of the morning.

I was alone. I was soaked. I had lost the last bridge to my old life.

I reached into the gutter and picked up a single, wet sock that Marcus had dumped out. It was all I had left of my "possessions."

I leaned my head back against the concrete and closed my eyes. The "Heart of Ice" skill the System had given me was the only thing keeping me from shattering. I didn't feel the urge to cry. I felt a cold, vibrating hum in my skull—a calculation of every insult, every kick, and every drop of rain.

The Bakars weren't just disowning me. They were trying to erase me from existence. They wanted me to crawl back and beg for mercy, to be a "lapdog" for real this time.

"Not today," I whispered, my breath forming a faint cloud in the air.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the burner phone. The battery was at 1%. The gold bar was nearly full.

[Initialization: 9.8%...] [Condition Detected: Absolute Isolation.] [System Note: The less you have, the more the System can provide.] [New Objective: Survive the 'Hour of the Wolf' (4:00 AM - 5:00 AM).]

I forced myself to stand up. My legs felt like they were made of lead, and the neon green shoes were starting to give me blisters that stung with every movement. I didn't go into the parking garage. There was no point now.

I started to walk. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I couldn't stay here. In this city, if you stop moving when you're at the bottom, the city swallows you whole.

I was no longer a Bakar. I was no longer a manager.

I was just a man in the rain, waiting for a gold bar on a shattered screen to hit 100%.