Rise of the Zillionaire Star

Chapter 33: Seeds of a Bigger War

The limousine drove through the city like a phantom. Its tinted windows reflect the neon lights outside. Inside, Jaylen adjusted his cufflinks viewing his reflection in the faint glass. As he looked at it, it was sharp enough to reveal the tension in his jaw. This was no ordinary night.

“Remember,” Zee’s voice murmured through his earpiece, “Fame Arena events aren’t what they look like. You are not just walking into a party gala. You are walking into a battlefield. Everyone in that room is ready to bite.”

Jaylen gave a small smirk. “Good. I’m ready to bite too since we both have teeths.”

The driver pulled up to the front of the dazzling Monteverdi Hall. A red carpet was stretched into a glittering entrance where flashbulbs were already snapping for influencers, actors, and moguls arriving in high style. Jaylen stepped out, the system’s faint display pulsed in his vision.

“SYSTEM Alert: FAME ARENA - UNDERCOVER MODE ENABLED.

Disguise Integrity: 94 percent

Known Hostile Entities Present: 6 (Scanning…)”

He had been given the cover identity “Elias Verne.”

Elias Verne is a rising music producer from Barcelona. The tailored jacket perfectly fit his frame. Jaylen was styled up to perfectly look like him. Everything Jaylen did was to perfectly mirror the person's identity.

Inside, the Monteverdi was a cathedral of glass and gold. Different guests mingled under a crystal chandelier the size of a small car. The live quartet played soft enough that whispered deals and sealed threats could slip through unnoticed.

Zee’s voice cut in again. “You have got multiple pings. Rivals are here already. The one in particular is Noah Klutch.”

Jaylen’s eyes narrowed. Noah Klutch wasn’t just a businessman. He controlled half the entertainment news syndicates and owned three of the largest PR firms in the country. If he decided your career was over, he could make the world believe you had never existed.

“Where is he?” Jaylen asked without moving his lips.

“He is at the north side of the room. Near the ice sculpture in a dark ark blue suit. He’s pretending not to see you.”

Jaylen spotted him instantly. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked hair and a shark’s smile. He was holding court with a small circle of power players. His laugh cut through the air like a knife dragged across glass.

Jaylen made the circuit of the room slowly, gathering intel and playing the role. But everywhere he went, he felt the currents shifting as whispers halted when he passed. Every eyes assesses him like a prey that might bite back.

At the champagne bar, a woman in a sequined dress brushed past him. She was murmuring just loud enough for him to hear, “Careful, Verne. They say the Arena eats the unprepared.”

The system pinged.

“SYSTEM: WARNING – SABOTAGE PLANS DETECTED

Saboteur Group: 'Black Veil Circle'

Objective: Discredit target via staged public meltdown”

Jaylen’s gaze swept the room and he immediately caught a sight of two men lingering near the stage crew entrance. Their posture was too casual with their eyes tracking him just a little too often.

“Zee,” he murmured under his breath, “Black Veil Circle’s here.”

“Copy that. They might stage something tonight to tank your influence rating before you even hit your next benchmark. Keep moving.”

By the time he reached the north side of the room, Noah Klutch had finished his conversation and turned his full attention toward Jaylen.

“Mr. Verne,” Noah said, extending a hand with a predator’s calm. “I have been hearing things.”

Jaylen accepted the handshake in a steady grip. “Then you must know most of them aren’t true.”

Noah’s grin deepened. “The truth doesn’t matter here, only the people's perception. And your influence is growing a little too fast for my taste. Unstable elements are bad for business. Don’t you think so?” He lit his face with a poisonous smirk.

Jaylen tilted his head. “Or maybe they’re just bad for your business.”

A flicker passed over Noah’s face just enough to confirm the hit landed.

“I’ll give you some free advice,” Noah said, leaning in slightly. “Fame Arena is a game of survival, not revolution. People who try to change the rules don’t last.”

Jaylen smiled faintly. “Maybe it’s time someone did.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before Noah stepped back. The conversation ended without either of them shaking hands as they parted. But Jaylen knew that exchange had painted a target on his back twice as bright.

As the night went on, the sabotage attempt came closer to fruition. Near the dining tables, a waiter carrying a champagne tray stumbled too perfectly toward Jaylen. He caught the tray just before it spilled, but the accident drew eyes and murmurs.

Minutes later, a loud argument broke out from two tables away, with one voice accusing Elias Verne of backroom payoffs. Jaylen didn’t move a muscle. He knew they were trying to draw him into a scene.

The system buzzed immediately, “SYSTEM UPDATE: SABOTAGE ATTEMPTS BLOCKED: +1 Talent”

Eventually, a bell rang softly to announce the night’s main presentation. The night's mission is a disguised networking ritual where Arena players measure each other’s current standing. Digital charts pulsed briefly across massive display walls. It was masked as charitable campaign results for public cover.

Jaylen’s rank appeared for the first time, “Fame Arena Ranking – Beta Stage. Position: #112 - #87.”

He felt the shift in the air immediately. Eyes followed him differently now. Some of which were assessing him as a threat, others as a potential ally. The power in the Arena wasn’t just about numbers, it was about how others believed those numbers could grow.

Later in the evening, as the crowd began to thin, a tall, striking woman in a black silk gown approached him. Her hair was a midnight cascade, her smile was slow and deliberate.

“Mr. Verne,” she said in a smooth voice as that of oil. “Or should I say… Jaylen.”

The system pulsed red in his vision.

“ALERT: NEW PLAYER ENTERED – DAHLIA VALE.

Relation: Niece of Roman Vale

Threat Level: Severe.”

“I wondered how long it would take you to show your face,” Jaylen replied without an ounce of his mask.

She stepped closer. Her perfume carried the faintest scent of danger. “Oh, I’m not here for introductions. I’m here to make sure you don’t leave this little game alive.” She said in a whisper.

And just like that, she turned, walking into the crowd before he could respond.

By the time Jaylen exited Monteverdi Hall, the night air was cooler now as he remained in thoughts. He slid into the limousine, pulling an embossed envelope from his jacket pocket.

It was the invite he’d been handed earlier. It's made of gold foil and expensive stock. The kind he can't ignore.

He flipped it over… and then…. He froze.

Taped to the back was a narrow strip of paper with a single line written in sharp and block letters,

“SAY YES AND WE’LL BURY YOU ON LIVE TV.”