Rebate System: From Poor Student To Billionaire Playboy

Chapter 13 Mr & Mrs Langston

The night had ended perfectly, and by morning, Harry was back to reality, business awaited. He needed to figure out what was really going on with his “agency.” He didn’t know much about it beyond the name, but a quick deep dive on the internet gave him everything he needed to know.

Turns out, the agency was practically dying. It was hanging by a thread, close to bankruptcy, which made Harry question why the system hadn’t matched him with something more powerful. A car had literally materialized out of thin air for him, surely creating a successful agency shouldn’t be a big ask. Still, he wasn’t about to complain. Life is good now. I am a fucking millionaire, he thought to himself.

A sharp knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts. Morning light spilled through the blinds. He checked his phone, no messages from Alicia. So, maybe she wasn’t as desperate as he’d assumed. But that didn’t bother him much; the agency could serve as another route to get her wrapped around his fingers.

Alicia only ever saw him as the broke student before yesterday's boutique incident. She must still be trying to grasp what happened.

Harry had done his research on her now, even looked at her many pictures. And most of them were subpar work. Looking at them only confirmed what he just suspected: her modelling career wasn't headed in any direction but south.

The knock came again, and Harry went to answer it. A few workmen stood outside, he’d hired a top-tier renovation crew to upgrade his apartment. He had the money now, and if he was going to start acting like someone of status, his living space needed to reflect that.

He didn’t call just anyone either. These were professionals, the best in the area. Brandon, his landlord, showed up not long after and almost dropped his clipboard when he saw them unloading equipment.

The same guy who’d once struggled to pay rent was suddenly swimming in cash, a new car, rent paid up front, and now a full apartment remodel. Brandon looked like he was trying to do the math, but the numbers just didn’t add up.

Harry noticed the man’s shock and couldn’t resist teasing him. “Good morning, Brandon. What can I say, sex work pay, right?” He chuckled.

Brandon didn’t laugh. He knew Harry was joking… probably. But a part of him couldn’t help but wonder. How else could someone’s fortune change overnight like that?

Harry stepped closer, still smiling. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, bro. Are you good?”

Brandon blinked, still staring. “You’re renovating your place?”

“That’s right. And don’t worry, I’ll handle the costs myself,” Harry said easily. “No need to adjust the rent or anything.”

Brandon nodded, still skeptical, but grateful. The kid had always been respectful, and seeing him happy was a welcome change.

“Good morning, Mr. Farrow ” a small voice piped up from behind Langston.

Harry leaned to the side and grinned. “Tonia, that you?”

The seven-year-old peeked out from between her father’s legs, grinning from ear to ear. Tonia was one of Brandon's two kids, and honestly, part of the reason her dad had always gone easy on Harry with rent.

“Boo!” she yelled, popping out suddenly.

Harry pretended to jump, clutching his chest. “You scared me half to death!”

Brandon shot him a warning glare.

Harry immediately corrected himself, “I mean, you scared me real good.”

Brandon didn’t allow any bad language around his kids, and Harry respected that.

“Are you heading to school?” Harry asked, nodding at her backpack.

Tonia nodded. “Yeah, but the bus is late,” Brandon said with a sigh. “Might have to drive her myself.”

“I can take her,” Harry offered. “I’m heading out anyway.”

Brandon raised a brow. “You sure? I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all,” Harry said with a smile. Then, turning to Tonia, he added playfully, “So, what do you think? You want me to drive you, or your grumpy old dad?”

Tonia burst into laughter. “I WANT TO GO WITH YOU!” she shouted, her voice echoing down the hall.

“Not so loud, sweetie,” came a smooth female voice from behind them.

Harry didn’t need to look to know it was Brandon's wife Clara.

She was stunning, with olive skin that gleamed in the light and a figure that could make statues jealous. Fit, curvy, and confident. She wore a black crop top and high-waisted leggings that looked painted on, her gym bag slung over one shoulder. Clearly, she was on her way to work, she was a make-up artist who also taught fitness classes for a living, and it showed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Langston,” Harry said politely, trying his best to keep eye contact. But her gaze, sharp, sultry, and unreadable, always threw him off. He’d once described them in his head as “those eyes that get men in trouble.”

“My lovely wife,” Brandon said dryly, “Harry here offered to take Tonia to school.”

Mrs. Langston tilted her head and smirked. “Oh really? Does our superhero have room for one more?”

Her tone dripped with teasing, and Harry’s brain scrambled for an appropriate response. He decided the safest move was to gesture toward the stairs. “After you.”

Brandon leaned in close as they walked out. “I owe you one,” he muttered quietly.

“Maybe knock a little off my rent?” Harry whispered back, smirking.

“Yeah, nice try,” Brandon said, chuckling under his breath.

The front door closed behind them, and Harry couldn’t help noticing, well, everything. Mrs. Langston’s gym leggings didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. Her physique was impressive, to say the least.

“Keep it together, Harry,” he told himself silently as they headed to his car.

He glanced over at Tonia, who skipped happily between them, completely unaware of the quiet tension in the air.