Rise of the Zillionaire Star

Chapter 38: The Charity Gambit

The rain had barely stopped when Jaylen slid into his studio. He pulled his hoodie low from his head, his heart was still drumming from the problems he had encountered  in the past week. Every screen inside lit up the moment he walked in, bathing him in blue light.

“Status,” he said.

Zee’s voice came out from the speakers. “Smear campaigns at 42% efficiency. Engagement ratio holding steady. Fame Level: seven. But your enemies have shifted to indirect damage.”

Jaylen smirked, kicking off his wet sneakers. “Indirect damage can be redirected.”

That was the plan. If Roman Vale wanted to burn his name in the social media. Jaylen would have to  ignite something brighter - a fire the Vales couldn’t touch.

“System Prompt: Side Quest Available.

Title: The Charity Gambit

Description: Launch a covert philanthropic operation to destabilize smear momentum.

Reward: +5 Fame, +20K Z-Credits, unlock “Goodwill Shield.”

“Run it,” Jaylen said.

The idea was simple, just a stealth charity. It was not the flashy kind with photographers and hashtags, but something raw from the grassroots. It must be authentic enough to spread without him ever claiming the credit. The target was abandoned musicians, artists who would have  given up when industry sharks stripped them clean.

Zee tapped into the Z-Credit flow. “We can set up a masked wallet. We would route funds through three shell donors, then push them via micro-grants in real time during a livestream. Nobody will trace it back unless you want them to.”

Jaylen leaned forward. His eyes caught the faint reflection of himself on the monitor. He was tired, bruised from both physical and digital battles, but still… he was  dangerous. “Let’s build it.” He expressed warmly.

By 9 p.m., the studio had been transformed. There was a black curtain that draped the walls. There was a single spotlight trained on an empty mic stand. On the desk, there was an old laptop that ran a stripped-down broadcasting software with no overlays and no brand tags. Just a feed.

“Live in three… two… one.”

Jaylen’s voice hit the stream with an intense voice. “Tonight isn’t about me. It’s about the voices that got left behind.”

He started playing a slow and aching loop on his sampler while Zee anonymously transferred Z-Credits to accounts of struggling artists. Every donation triggered a tiny notification chime. The first five minutes were quiet. Then, without warning, the viewers exploded the chat section with different comments. 

Yo, who’s doing this?

This track is fire.

Wait… that’s Jaylen’s voice, right?

Nah, no way. Dude’s too busy fighting Vales.

The donations snowballed. Independent musicians began joining the call-in feature. Some of them started performing raw acoustic sets, others were just crying on mic as they saw their accounts light up with unexpected funds.

By the two-hour mark, the stream had been screen-recorded, clipped, and reposted across multiple platforms. Despite his best attempt to stay anonymous, fans knew that it was him.  They recognized his songs, his production style and the way he ended each track with a low hum.

Trending tags lit up the whole internet like lamp. #SilentSavior, #JaylenCares, #MusiciansRise.”

The next morning, Jaylen woke to Zee’s voice.

“Charity Gambit goes viral. Engagement tripled overnight. Donations surpassed one hundred thousand Z-Credits and seventy percent were from fans.”

Jaylen grinned. “And what about Roman?”

Zee brought up the feed. “He is furious. His sub-assets are panicking. Ricko Flare already tried to spin it.”

The attempted smear was almost laughable. Ricko Flare was a mid-tier influencer with a mouth bigger than his talent. He had posted a shaky video claiming the whole charity was a front to launder Jaylen’s scam money.

Jaylen didn’t even flinch. “Pull the receipts,” he ordered Zee.

Within minutes, Zee displayed verified transaction records, donor logs, and livestream time stamps. 

Jaylen cut together a short video and side-by-side footage of Ricko’s rant against proof of the donations being received by real artists in real time. The final clip was Jaylen’s calm but sharp voice, “You can’t fake hope. But you can fake outrage.”

The post went nuclear. Ricko’s own followers turned on him, flooding his comments with “#ReceiptSlap memes.”

The system buzzed. “Mini-Face-Slap Complete: Ricko Flare

Reward: +3 Fame, +5K Z-Credits.”

By evening, the entire narrative had flipped. Where Roman’s machine had been pumping out negative press reviews. The feeds were now full of grateful musicians, clips from the livestream, and think-pieces on how one man’s quiet generosity was challenging industry corruption.

Jaylen leaned back in his chair, sipping from a chipped mug. “They wanted to paint me as selfish. Now they can’t touch me without looking like they hate charity.”

Zee’s holographic avatar flickered to life. “Be careful. This kind of goodwill can protect you or make you a bigger target.”

Jaylen was about to respond when Zee’s tone shifted. “There is an incoming encrypted packet. The source is unknown.”

The file unfolded across the main screen with the  scanned bank statements, offshore transfer records, shell company registries and all with one name tying them together, Roman Vale.

Each document showed big sums being transferred through front businesses overseas, then quietly reinvested into domestic media firms, influencers, and even political campaigns.

Jaylen’s pulse quickened. “This is more than dirt. This is a big demolition. Can't you see it?”

Zee agreed. “If verified, it could trigger multiple federal investigations. But releasing it without airtight proof risks backfire. We can't act rashly.”

Jaylen stared at the evidence. The rain was starting up again outside. The room felt heavier this time around. He could already see the next problem forming. This one would be bigger than every smear campaign, every staged ambush and every legal trap they had thrown at him.

The sound of his phone vibrating called him back from his thoughts. When he checked, he realized it wasn't a call, but a notification from a private courier service. A small black envelope had been delivered to the building.

Jaylen sighed. He stepped outside. He picked up the envelope but there was no sender.

Jaylen tore it open. Inside of it was a sleek, embossed invitation to one of the biggest award shows of the year. It was a chance to be seen, to perform and to cement his rising influence.

But taped to the back of the card was a thin strip of paper with just six words written with ink,.“Show up, and you disappear next.”

The words burned in his mind as Zee’s voice dropped to a low tone. “It looks like the Charity Gambit worked  too well.”

The invitation glowed under the studio's bright lighting. In the invitation was half promise and half threat.

 Jaylen knew accepting it might be the first step into a problem the world wasn’t ready for.