Piss Off, This Is My Money

28

Jace slowly turned to him..

“I can help you though,” the guy continued, standing up. “Just—” he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “let’s tell everyone you’re my stepbrother.”

He grinned. A nasty fucking grin.

“People love plot twists. I want to make a name for myself before your fame flickers out,” he added. “We let them soak it all in, then boom—tell them it’s a joke. And since you’re already a joke to the world, you might as well make money off it.”

He pulled out his phone.

“How much do you need? Fifty grand?”

Jace stared at him.

The guy leaned in even closer. “Don’t overthink it. Just say yes. And maybe—maybe—I’ll consider helping you go up against Maya.”

Jace exhaled through his nose, slow and sharp.

“You should’ve learned something in the last couple of minutes,” he said quietly. “Hell, Robert’s downfall should’ve taught you all some basic fucking sense.”

The guy chuckled, unbothered. “So you’ve grown some guts now.”

He stepped back, smoothing his jacket. “Let’s see how long that lasts. I’m one of Robert’s main guys. I’ll send you an address. Come meet me. You’ll see the rest of the team.”

He turned to leave—then stopped. Spun back dramatically.

“Oh—and you really are a joke to all of us,” he said lazily. “Funny thing? Maya’s parents have never stepped in for her before.”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Guess you’re special.”

And, of course, the damn guy was already walking away, and this was supposed to be the end of this basic shit. Because some fools are worth your time, and some—bothering yourself to give a fuck about them—is only going to wreck your mental health in the most spectacular ways.

But, of course, life’s never simple. Two students had been lurking nearby, probably just trying to catch some fucking video. And because the white‑haired guy thought this was his moment to shine on social media, like hell, he wanted to be that guy in a video with Jace, mouthing off like he had a clue.

He spun around, smirk plastered on his face, straight at Jace.

“We could hang out though,” he said, cocky as fuck, “you were just some days away from getting your ‘baby’s’ tattoos on your back.”

Fucking Jace. The bastard he was, he should’ve kept walking, kept ignoring the idiot. But some fools don’t get the hint—they keep talking shit until it’s going to cost them.

He stepped closer, his voice dripping venom. “I’m still fucking sore about that baby shit. You shouldn’t have come up with it. Now I think I’m going to fucking cry.”

The white‑haired guy froze, confused. Typical response would’ve been for Jace to lose it, maybe kick him in the balls and turn it into a demonstration of his martial arts skills.

“How about some drinks tonight?” Jace said casually, like he wasn’t dismantling a man in real time. “I’ve got no friends, you know. And all those folks in the basketball team—bring them along. Bills on me. We’ll meet at H. Jay’s by 8 p.m.”

Then—just to really fuck with the idiot’s head—he patted him lightly on the back.

“No girls,” Jace added over his shoulder, already walking off in the opposite direction to deal with the bullshit score. Like the guy wasn’t even worth a backward glance.

The white‑haired guy stood there for half a second too long before panic slammed into him.

He rushed at the two students.

“Hey—hey, wait,” he said, breath uneven. “Please don’t upload that. How much do you need? No—wait—” He fumbled, dragged out his wallet, shoved two cards forward. “You can dye your hair for free. Anytime. In my store.”

The two of them exchanged a look.

Then, right in front of him, they tapped their screens and deleted the videos.

The relief nearly dropped him to his knees.

He stormed off immediately, dialing furiously, already plotting how the rest of the team was going to deal with Jace. The disrespect was unbearable. The humiliation tasted metallic in his mouth. He could fucking die from it.

But back with the two students—

They paused.

Free hair dye…

or

a once‑in‑a‑lifetime video of Jace psychologically skinning a man alive?

They smiled.

Seconds later, the video was uploaded everywhere.

Caption:

“A discreet meeting btw Jace and some dude. You won’t believe this!!!”

Within minutes, the views started climbing.

Fast.

It was like some people were fucking living just to get the next update about Jace.

The second the video dropped, the comments section detonated.

“Fucking insane!”

“So he’s dealing with the BIG boys now??”

“Robert’s basketball team???”

“Why is no one talking about H. Jay’s???”

“Last time I checked, soft drinks cost THIRTY GRAND there!!”

“Pls like and comment so this reaches more people. someone HAS to go!!”

“MORE VIDEOS!!!”

“The suspense is killing meeeee ”

“No movie has ever done this.”

Five minutes.

Eighteen million views.

The algorithm didn’t just pick it up—it grabbed it by the throat.

****

Out in the parking lot, the white‑haired guy was storming toward his car when his phone started vibrating.

It didn’t stop.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Annoyed, he yanked it out of his pocket.

999+ messages.

His chest tightened.

Someone had sent him the video.

He clicked it.

His eyes widened in pure fucking horror.

He looked up—

And froze.

Idiots were already rushing toward him, phones raised, Livestreams running, mouths open like vultures smelling blood.

“Yo! Is that you in the video—”

“Say something for the camera!”

“Are you really meeting Jace tonight??”

“Are you scared??”

“Is this beef real??”

“Bro—bro—BRO—”

“MOVE,” he barked, shoving past them.

He barely made it into the car.

“Drive!” he snapped at his driver. “NOW!”

The door slammed. The car jerked forward.

Inside, his hands were shaking as he dialed.

“Guys,” he growled into the phone, pacing between rage and panic, “we have to put this nigga in his place. Tonight. This evening.”

His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

“This shit can’t go on.”