2025-10-18 18:22:09The city lights shimmered against the tinted windows of Charlie’s Lamborghini La Voiture Noire as he rolled into the boulevard. The roar of the $50 million engine made heads turn. Even in the city of giants, this car was a god among machines.
He parked at the VVIP parking lot, where only the wealthiest clients of the exclusive fashion store were allowed. The valet bowed and pointed at the platinum-plated sign: “Parking Fee—$100,000.”
Charlie didn’t flinch. Twenty-four hours ago, that number could have made him sleepless. Now, it was dust—no, smaller than dust compared to what sat in his account. He dropped the key and walked in casually, the crowd already murmuring at the sight of the legendary car.
As Charlie entered the store, the glass doors hissed open—and just then, someone rammed into him so hard he stumbled and fell flat on the polished marble. The thud echoed sharply, drawing attention.
The man who bumped into him—a tall stranger in his late twenties—looked down at him with disgust, brushing imaginary dirt off his sleeve.
Charlie blinked in disbelief.
The man pulled out a white handkerchief and began wiping the spot on his arm where Charlie had touched him. “Ugh. You peasants always get in the way,” he muttered loudly enough for others to hear.
Charlie slowly rose to his feet, staring at him. “You could’ve just apologized,” he said calmly.
The man gave a mocking smirk. “Apologize? You should be grateful I only pushed you to the floor. If I had the means, I’d push you straight to hell.”
Charlie’s eyes darkened. “What exactly did I do wrong?”
The man leaned forward, his cologne stinging the air. “Existing.”
The words hit like a slap. Charlie clenched his fists but let out a breath, forcing a calm smile. “Right.” He stepped aside, his voice cold. “Have a good day, king.”
As he walked away, the man scoffed. “Pathetic.”
Charlie didn’t turn back. ‘Let him think whatever he wants. I could buy his entire life twice over now,’ he thought.
But that was the irony of life—those who looked down on you never really looked close enough to see what stood above them.
Inside the store, Charlie started browsing through the racks when familiar voices—poisonous voices—pierced his peace.
Gory and Vera. Angela’s friends.
The same girls who’d poisoned her mind and pushed her to betray him.
They spotted him almost instantly.
“Oh, look who we have here,” Vera whispered with a wicked smile.
“Isn’t that Charlie? Angela’s charity case,” Gory added, laughing.
They strolled over like hyenas circling prey.
“Well, if it isn’t the worst mistake any girl could ever make,” Vera sneered. “Still wearing the same rags, huh?”
Charlie tried to walk past them. “Go your way. I’m not in the mood.”
Gory blocked his path, folding her arms. “Or what? You’ll run crying to your little half-sister again?”
He looked at them, unbothered, and smiled faintly. “Not this time.”
The confidence in his tone unsettled them for a moment. Vera poked his chest. “You’ve grown a backbone, huh? What are you even doing here, Charlie? Planning to steal?”
“I came to shop,” he said simply.
They burst into laughter, holding their stomachs.
“This is Luxe Mode, not a thrift store,” Vera mocked. “Do you think anything here costs a hundred bucks?”
“No,” Charlie replied evenly. “But whatever the price, I can afford it.”
That stopped them. Just for a moment.
Gory narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I get it. You must’ve heard what your stepbrothers did last night and now you’re pretending you’re one of them.”
Charlie frowned. “What did Jim and Jey do?”
Vera rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act clueless. It’s all over the campus social feed.” She pulled out her phone and shoved the screen toward him.
The video played.
Jim and Jey were laughing, drunk, bragging in a VIP club."We did it! We finally got rid of that loser Charlie! Dad’s announcing us as the rightful heirs tonight!"
Laughter. Clinking glasses. More drunken boasting.
Then came the venom.
"That witch of a woman he calls his mother should’ve been gone ages ago. A whore doesn’t deserve a Grant name!"
The words cut deeper than knives. Charlie’s jaw tightened. His fists trembled, veins bulging. If they had been in front of him, he would have smashed them both into silence.
Gory switched to another clip. This time, Jim and Jey were surrounded by bottles, ordering drinks worth $300,000.
"Here’s to the money that could’ve saved Charlie’s witch mother—cheers!"
Charlie’s breath hitched. Rage burned behind his calm expression, but he swallowed it. Revenge was no longer an emotional outburst—it would be art, and he would be the artist.
Then Vera’s tone shifted into a sly smirk. “Oh, we’re not done.”
She tapped on her phone again.
This time, the video showed Jey kissing Angela. The scene was raw, heated—too familiar. Gory laughed. “From what we heard, they had a wild night. Guess money talks louder than your broke love ever did.”
Vera leaned closer. “Tell me, Charlie… you ever kissed Angela before? Didn’t think so. Jey did all that in one night. That’s the power of money, sweetheart. Not your pitiful heart.”
Their laughter echoed across the store.
Charlie just stood there, expressionless. Inside, the storm raged. But when he finally smiled, it wasn’t one of pain—it was power.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “Money rules the world.”
Then he walked away, his tone like a whisper from the throne. “And the world belongs to me now.”The girls froze, confused. His words didn’t sound like bluff.
***
Minutes later, Charlie stood at the counter. “I’ll take all these,” he said, gesturing to the suits, watches, and jewelry that shimmered under the glass.
The attendant’s eyes widened as the scanner tallied the total: $22 million.
He swiped the premium Golden Card.
Approved.
The transaction sound chimed softly—like a royal seal being stamped.
The attendants nearly bowed. They helped him carry the bags, grateful when he handed them each a $25,000 tip.
As he stepped outside, the two women trailed behind him, eyes wide. They couldn’t believe what they’d just seen.
Charlie approached the VVIP lot—and there he was.
The same arrogant man from earlier, leaning casually against the La Voiture Noire, chatting with Vera and Gory.
The two women giggled beside him.
“Wow, is this your car?” Vera asked dreamily.
The man smirked. “Of course. Only real men drive machines like this.”
Charlie walked closer, silent, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. The valet ran ahead of him, bowing deeply. “Sir, your car is ready.”
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CHAPTER 179
Charlie spent the next few days at his grandfather’s estate, where quiet felt intentional rather than empty. The silence didn’t loom or press in; it held. The halls were wide enough to swallow footsteps, the ceilings high enough to let thoughts finish themselves. Nothing here demanded immediacy. No alarms. No vibrating phones. No dashboards blinking red. It was a deliberate stillness, curated over decades, the kind that suggested life could be lived without constant proof of usefulness. It stood in direct opposition to campus urgency—and an even sharper contrast to corporate life, where silence usually meant something had broken.Here, mornings unfolded without violence. Light crept through tall windows instead of sirens or schedules. Coffee appeared when he wanted it, not when a meeting required it. Evenings arrived gently, without briefings or contingency plans. For the first time in months, his body stopped bracing for impact. The tension he hadn’t realized he carried began to loos
CHAPTER 178
Finals week arrived like an unavoidable storm, the kind students could sense days before it broke. The library shifted into a twenty-four-hour organism, lights burning through the night as bodies rotated in and out, eyes glassy, hands shaking slightly from caffeine and lack of sleep. Across campus, students moved like survivors, fueled by energy drinks, instant noodles, and the stubborn belief that endurance alone could carry them through. Charlie felt it too, that collective pressure humming beneath everything, binding strangers into brief alliances of stress.He studied alongside Rashford, Daniel, and a loose orbit of classmates whose names blurred together between flashcards and half-finished notes. Anxiety flattened hierarchy. Everyone was equally uncertain. That shared vulnerability created an odd camaraderie, a sense that they were all temporarily equalized by the weight of expectations.“I can’t believe I’m actually worried about economics finals,” Charlie muttered during a lat
CHAPTER 177
Charlie helped prepare the slides with the same discipline he once reserved for board presentations. Charts, timelines, comparative analysis, all showing Claire Corporation reduced to bullet points and graphs, its chaos flattened into something legible. Strategic decisions were mapped neatly: early consolidation of authority, aggressive legal defense, recalibrated spending priorities, gradual stabilization. From the outside, it looked almost elegant.The conclusion his group reached was balanced, careful not to sound starry-eyed or cruel. They acknowledged effective crisis management, noted measurable financial recovery, and credited decisive leadership under pressure. At the same time, they questioned certain tactical choices, particularly the speed and aggressiveness of early responses and flagged long-term sustainability as an open question, citing the CEO’s youth and relative inexperience.Charlie watched his own leadership summarized in a single slide and felt strangely hollow. No
CHAPTER 176
November brought the semester’s second half and Charlie’s first genuine crisis since returning to campus. Up until then, the challenges had been manageable. He had to just deal with papers, seminars, long nights in the library, the quiet strain of living a double life as both student and silent corporate overseer. But this was different. This was personal, precise, and unavoidable.Dr. Voss assigned a group project analyzing the strategic decisions of a contemporary corporation in crisis. The instructions were deceptively simple: pick a real company, trace its leadership choices through instability, assess outcomes with academic rigor. Charlie barely registered the assignment itself. What mattered was the randomness of the group selection and the danger hidden inside it.His group gathered after class: Kimberly San, meticulous and sharp-eyed; James Creed, confident and talkative; and Ashley Rodriguez, energetic, already halfway into whatever she touched. None of them knew who Charlie
CHAPTER 175
Dr. Voss had returned his first paper with an A-minus and a note: "Strong analysis, though your treatment of governance failures suggests either extensive research or personal familiarity with similar situations. Either way, well done."Charlie read the note twice. The praise felt more meaningful than the grade itself.Professor Morrison’s course challenged Charlie with moral dilemmas that echoed his own life. Readings on power and corruption raised questions about ethical leadership. In discussion, one student argued the protagonist believed his good intentions would protect him from becoming ruthless but by the end, he used the same methods he condemned. Charlie stayed silent, too aware of his own shift from idealism to compromise, as circumstances had blurred the line between necessary force and cruelty. The protagonist's tragic arc mirrored his own: once driven by ethics, now questioning if he'd already crossed the line."But how do you balance competing stakeholder interests?" an
CHAPTER 174
The semester settled into a rhythm, and Charlie adjusted to student life, relishing the intellectual challenges. Dr. Voss’s economics seminar stretched his thinking, challenging many of his assumptions about business. Meanwhile, Professor Morrison's literature course delved into moral ambiguity, confronting Charlie with questions of power, ethics, and ambition. The texts, exploring flawed human choices, felt unnervingly personal, especially one novel about a man whose inherited power corrupted him, lingering in Charlie’s mind long after."The protagonist thinks he's different," one student had argued during a seminar discussion. "He believes his good intentions will protect him from becoming like the people he's fighting against. But by the end, he's using the same ruthless methods he initially condemned."Charlie had sat silent, listening to the discussion unfold, the words sinking deep. It was hard not to feel like the story was more than just fiction, more like an inevitable portra
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