2025-03-12 01:54:16Klaus followed him, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. His fingers caught on knots, reminding him just how much he had let himself go. His beard was overgrown, his clothes slightly wrinkled from days of wear. He probably did look like a beggar.
Behind them, two employees near the counter exchanged glances. "Does Steve not realize that man is a beggar?" a female attendant muttered under her breath. She folded her arms, watching them disappear into the grooming section. "He acts like this boutique is his entire world, always showing off what he knows." Another attendant, a male, scoffed. "He thinks he’s better than us just because he won Employee of the Year last year. I really hope he gets into trouble this time." The two chuckled quietly, glancing toward the entrance, where their supervisor, Mr. Jonathan, was due to arrive at any moment. "If the supervisor catches him wasting time on someone who clearly can’t afford anything, he’s done for," one of them whispered. They weren’t just irritated by Steve’s enthusiasm—they were jealous. He was always cheerful, always helpful, even when he didn't get tips. Seeing him humiliated would be satisfying. Meanwhile, Klaus settled into the barber's chair. The buzzing of clippers filled the air, and strands of dark hair tumbled to the floor. Steve worked with precision, his focus unwavering. By the time he was finished, Klaus barely recognized himself. He looked younger, sharper. He ran a hand along his freshly trimmed beard and smirked. It was incredible what a simple grooming session could do. "Now, let’s pick out some clothes, shall we?" Klaus said casually. Steve blinked, momentarily dazed, before nodding. "Oh—yes, of course!" As Klaus stepped out of the salon area, a few women passing by turned their heads. One of them, a blonde in a fitted dress, visibly slowed her pace, her gaze lingering. Klaus, amused, met her eyes and winked. She quickly averted her gaze, but not before a blush crept up her cheeks. Steve coughed into his fist, regaining composure. "Right this way, sir." Klaus moved through the boutique, selecting items with swift precision. He chose a crisp white shirt, a tailored black blazer, and a pair of polished dress shoes. Steve held up a few more options, but Klaus barely hesitated before nodding in approval. When it was time to pay, Steve retrieved a receipt booklet and a calculator, tallying up the total. "The total comes to $200,000," Steve announced. Klaus raised an eyebrow, pulling out his wallet. "Do you accept cards?" He debated spending more, just for the hell of it. The thought made him chuckle internally. "Certainly! One moment," Steve replied, moving to retrieve the card reader from the staff drawer. At that moment, the boutique’s glass doors swung open, and in strode their supervisor, Mr. Jonathan. He was a middle-aged man with a sharp suit, a well-groomed mustache, and an air of self-importance. His eyes immediately locked onto Steve and the man he was assisting. Jonathan’s expression darkened. He signaled Steve over, his posture rigid. "Steve, you should know better than to waste your time on people who don’t matter," Jonathan began sharply. His voice was loud enough for other customers to hear, drawing some glances. "That man clearly can’t afford these clothes! And I see you even gave him a fresh haircut? If he doesn’t pay for everything, consider your position here in jeopardy!" Steve stiffened but kept his expression neutral. Klaus, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Excuse me," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I’m the customer Steve is assisting. Would you mind letting him do his job? I’m in a hurry." Jonathan scoffed. "Absolutely not! Return the items you’re pretending to buy and leave. People like you don’t belong here." Klaus exhaled sharply, amused. "Oh? Is that so?" "Yes! Now get out!" Jonathan snapped, his voice rising. He didn't know why but something about this particular customer irritated him, the confidence he had, the grace in his steps, it was a slap in his face. "I will get security to throw you out!" Jonathan fumed, his chubby body vibrating like a bumble bee as he called for guards to quickly come and throw him out, the sight of Klaus still standing there confidentially was provoking to his person. At that moment, Klaus felt something shift—like the fabric of reality itself bending. A small notification flashed in his vision. [Luck Infuse?] [Yes] [No] His Luck Stat: 1000pts. A smirk played on his lips. He selected [Yes]. [-500pts deducted.] For a brief moment, his eyes flickered with a soft purple glow. An almost imperceptible wave of energy pulsed through the air. Then, his phone vibrated. He pulled out his sleek, purple-cased device and answered. "Hello, is this Mr. Klaus Whitlock?" "Uh… yes, speaking." "Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of Thera Supermarket and Hotel Suites. Mr. Holiday, the previous owner, has finalized the sale for $100 million." Klaus stared blankly at the wall. "Wait—what?" The line went dead before he could ask anything else. More notifications flooded his screen. [User has acquired Thera Supermarket and Suites. Congratulations! ] [Luck infusion was successful. $100,000,000 has been deducted from your account.] [System Balance: $6,000,000.] Klaus let out a slow breath, realization sinking in. He hadn’t just changed his fortune. He had rewritten reality.
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Klaus barely reacted as the security guards took him by the arms, their grips firm but not forceful—yet. His mind was still processing what had just happened. A few minutes ago, he had only planned to get a haircut and some fresh clothes, but now, he somehow owned Thera Supermarket and Hotel Suites—one of the most profitable chains in the city. He hadn’t even met the previous owner before, yet the ownership had inexplicably fallen into his lap. The part that truly astounded him? Thera Properties was worth far more than the $100 million transaction. A business like this could make that much in a matter of weeks, if not days. As a former businessman himself, Klaus understood the true value of assets like these. And now, as he was being escorted out like a common beggar, his lips curled into a smirk. The irony was almost poetic. --- Jonathan, the boutique supervisor, stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with thinly veiled disdain as the guards led Klaus toward the exit. "People l
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 12
“I had no idea this was how your staff treated customers at Thera Supermarket,” Klaus said smoothly, his tone calm but edged with steel. “Your supervisor accused me of being a thief and a beggar… just because of my appearance.” Holiday’s gaze darkened as he turned sharply to Jonathan. “Klaus Whitlock was about to pay for his items when you chose to humiliate him instead.” Jonathan swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “I-I made a mistake,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “Please, sir, have mercy.” Klaus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “This wasn’t a misunderstanding,” he said firmly. “It was a blatant abuse of power. I tried to explain, but you wouldn’t listen.” Holiday exhaled, rubbing his temple as frustration settled on his face. He knew Jonathan had made a serious error, but at the moment, he had no one else in line to take his place. “Jonathan, that’s enough. Be quiet,” Holiday ordered, his voice taut with irritation. Klaus turned to Holiday. “
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 13
Harriet tilted her head slightly. “What is it, sir?” Klaus tapped his fingers together, his expression unreadable. “Once the news breaks that Thera Supermarket and its five-star hotel have a new owner, my name will be everywhere. I need you to keep my identity out of the media. Give them someone else to focus on.” Harriet hesitated. “Is this because of your past… the prison sentence?” A small smile played on Klaus’s lips. “Yes,” he admitted. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just that. Avoiding the media was a necessity. But his true goal? Revenge. He needed to stay in the shadows until the time was right. The air in the room felt heavier as Harriet met his gaze. His ice-blue eyes gleamed with something unreadable—dark, dangerous. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips. And in that moment, Harriet knew—this man was terrifying. And yet, utterly captivating. Klaus leaned forward, his fingers tapping lightly against the glass table. The sleek iPad before him glowed
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 14
Congratulations on spending $10,000,000+ in 12 hours! [Reward: +100 Steeze Points, +1000 Coins] [New Skill Unlocked: Shape Shifting] [Shape Shifting: Allows the user to mimic the appearance and mannerisms of others] Klaus’s lips curled into a slow, calculating grin. This was better than he expected. Now, he could become anyone. Stretching, he rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of his newfound power settle over him. His mind was already strategizing as he finished a quick workout, then showered and dressed sharply. Today, Thera Hotel was his battlefield. It was time to take full control. As he strode through the supermarket section of his empire, none of the lower-level employees recognized him. To them, he was just another well-dressed businessman. But the higher-ups? They knew. The way they carried themselves—silent respect, careful words, subtle deference—set the tone for the entire building. Klaus smirked. This is only the beginning. ------ The ni
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Allison and Duncan still hadn’t caught on, still oblivious to the tidal wave about to crash down on them. Klaus watched them bask in their own arrogance, their laughter scraping against his nerves like nails on glass. They thought they were untouchable. He let them. The steady rhythm of approaching heels against marble was the only warning before Cassandra arrived, her presence slicing through the room like a blade. The moment she saw Klaus, her sharp gaze flickered between him and the two unsuspecting fools, assessing the situation in seconds. The room stilled. Guests and staff alike turned their attention, sensing the shift in the air—the kind of quiet that always comes before the storm. Cassandra’s voice was crisp, cutting, carrying through the grand space with the weight of authority. "Mr. Whitlock, I sincerely apologize for this disturbance," she said smoothly. Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Allison and Duncan, her expression like polished steel. “May I
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“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Whitlock,” she said, lowering herself into her chair with practiced poise. “I understand you’re eager to get up to speed on the hotel’s operations.” She launched into a concise yet thorough report, her voice steady, her delivery precise. Occupancy rates. Marketing campaigns. Upcoming events. She presented spreadsheets and charts with methodical efficiency, illustrating revenue streams and expenditure breakdowns. Every word was chosen with care, every detail sharpened to perfection. Klaus listened without interruption, his gaze unwavering. He was fully engaged, far more invested than she had expected. He asked sharp, calculated questions, probing for weaknesses, dissecting figures with the ease of a man who had done this before. Finally, she placed the payroll report before him, a neatly compiled list of every employee and their respective salaries. “As you can see,” she explained, “the majority of our staff are paid competitive wages, reflec
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He had a feeling that Randal was a petty man—territorial, controlling. Klaus had walked into his domain and walked out with a fortune. That kind of insult wasn’t forgotten easily. And now, Randal was making his move. The air in his office was still when he stepped inside. The man stood in the center of the room, arms loose at his sides, exuding a quiet kind of menace. Now that Klaus saw him up close, he noticed the ink curling up the side of his neck—a snake. Interesting. “You,” Klaus said, shutting the door behind him. The man smirked. “Me.” Klaus walked to his desk, keeping his movements casual. “You’ve been following me.” “I had to make sure you were worth my time.” Klaus tilted his head. “And?” The man reached into his jacket, pulling out a thin file. He tossed it onto the desk. “You tell me.” Klaus flipped it open. Documents. Reports. Some on him, some on the Thera Grand. A slow smile curved his lips. “Impressive.” The man moved in closer and said, "We're
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They knew about his past—his true identity—and the secrets buried beneath the polished mask of Klaus Whitlock. Or so Jack thought. He was wrong. He was underestimating Klaus, and that would be his downfall. "I need time to think," Klaus said, his voice steady, almost eerily calm. His gaze locked with Jack’s, daring him to try and find even the faintest trace of fear in his eyes. There was nothing—only the cold, calculating resolve of a man who had spent years thinking three steps ahead. Jack’s eyes narrowed, his smile faltering just a fraction, but he quickly masked it. "How much time?" "Forty-eight hours," Klaus replied, his tone unwavering. "I need to consult with my… advisors." The lie slipped from his tongue so easily it was almost effortless. Advisors? He trusted only himself. Jack studied him, eyes cold and calculating, as though measuring the risk of granting this small concession. After a long pause, he nodded, the smile returning to his lips, though it no longer held
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CHAPTER 96
Guiding him through what felt like an underground corridor—cold cement underfoot, the air damp and stale—Klaus allowed his captors to push him forward, his senses heightened, brain mapping every twist and turn. It wasn’t fear that gnawed at him—it was calculation. He was counting steps, memorizing patterns. Cataloging breathing rates. Not theirs—his. He heard a metal door creak open. A shove sent him stumbling forward. Then silence. Just him, the darkness, and the muffled thrum of a generator somewhere deep in the bowels of this forgotten place. Klaus remained still. Then slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hands—and tore the hood free. He was in a windowless room, dimly lit by a flickering overhead bulb. No camera. No visible guards. Cement walls, stale air. They’d made one critical mistake. They left him alone. A slow smirk curled on his lips. They didn’t know who they were dealing with. Klaus’s eyes shimmered faintly as he activated his Phantom Eyes. The room arou
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The naive, trusting fool who believed that loyalty meant safety—that if he gave his best to the world, it would not bite him back—was long gone. That man had been scorched, seared down to bone and breath by betrayal. His innocence had been bartered for silence. His trust, shattered beneath the boots of false allies and smiling traitors. What rose from those ashes wasn’t merely a man. It was a force. An inevitability. A presence carved from sharpened purpose and bound by unbreakable will. Klaus Whitlock had been reborn through fire and suffering, and now he stood—silent and cold as granite—ready to rewrite the rules that once caged him. He would finish what they started. He would reclaim what was his. He would make every last one of them bleed for it. The Thornes. Duncan. Allison. Reginald. Every sycophant and snake who had twisted a blade into his back, all while smiling sweetly to his face. They didn’t know what they had created. They didn’t understand that the
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"I want to seduce him," Allison said, her voice a slow, silken thread of malice that wound through the quiet between them. "Lure him into something... compromising. Maybe at one of those glittering afterparties the socialites love so much. Get him drunk enough—or reckless enough—to slip." The line crackled softly in the silence that followed, heavy with dark anticipation. "And then?" Reginald asked, his voice dipping into something rougher, something eager, as if tasting the possibilities she laid out. Allison didn't miss a beat. "Then we claim he raped me," she said, the words falling from her mouth like poison wrapped in honey. "We’ll have cameras in place. Photos, maybe even a hidden mic. Enough damning evidence to crush him—legally, publicly, financially." Her words drifted between them, thick and noxious, a dark mist that neither seemed eager to clear. "First," she continued, her voice gleaming with a twisted satisfaction, "we blackmail him. Bleed him dry. Drag it out,
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Klaus sat frozen, staring at the final message, the words blurring on the screen. His breath came shallow and sharp, fists balled so tightly his knuckles paled. That maybe Duncan had preyed on her loneliness, twisted her heart when she was weak. But the evidence screamed otherwise. The affair hadn’t started after he was arrested. It had begun long before — when Klaus still believed the world was something he could build, when he still looked at Allison and saw a partner instead of a liar. He had been a fool. A blind, trusting fool. The rage boiled up inside him, white-hot and blinding. He wanted to smash the laptop. To scream until his throat gave out. To punch the cheap hotel walls until his bones split open. But he sat there instead, breathing heavily, a storm raging under the surface, fists trembling with barely restrained fury. He saw her face in his mind — the soft smile, the worried eyes she wore when he was stressed — and all he could feel was sickened. Every kiss
CHAPTER 92
And until his system came back online, he would have to rely on his own skills and instincts alone. He crossed the suite silently, pulling the curtains shut and checking his phone. No new messages. No updates from the system. Alone in the quiet, dim room, Klaus sat by the window, watching the street below, his mind already racing ahead, planning his next move. Klaus sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his fingers moving deftly over Allison’s phone. He connected it to a discreet black device Richard Fitzgerano had given him months ago, during the chaos of the hotel scandal. The device was a marvel of clandestine technology — capable of silently combing through every shred of data on the phone: text messages, call logs, voice recordings, images, even hidden notes. All of it was being quietly siphoned, streamed in a time-based format straight into Klaus’s laptop. The faint hum of the device filled the room, blending with the muted noise of distant city traffic. Klaus leaned back in t
CHAPTER 91
The black van, monstrous and relentless, gave chase immediately, its front grill dented but very much operational. It was clear now — they weren’t interested in following him or intimidating him. They wanted him captured or worse. One hand on the wheel, Klaus grabbed his phone and quickly dialed the emergency number. His voice was steady despite the pounding of his heart. “I'm being chased," he said curtly as he took a sharp left turn, tires squealing. "Black van, license plate—" he glanced in his rearview mirror, barely catching the numbers through the blur, "—partial plate 67P5. I’m headed toward Eastbrook Avenue. Requesting immediate assistance." He ended the call without waiting for a response. He couldn’t afford to split his attention any further. Right now, every ounce of focus was needed to stay alive. The city around him turned into a maze of obstacles — honking cars, confused pedestrians, flickering neon signs. Klaus dodged in and out of lanes, slipping between a deli
CHAPTER 90
"This asshole insulted me after trying to hit on me!" Vanessa cried, crocodile tears welling up instantly. "I think you must have fallen on your head as a child," Klaus said, voice dripping with disdain. "To accuse me of hitting on you is laughable." Donavan’s jaw tightened, puffing himself up like a rooster ready to fight. "You got a big mouth for a nobody. Maybe you need a lesson in respect," Donavan said, cracking his knuckles. Klaus tilted his head slightly. A slight grin curved his lips. The atmosphere thickened, the energy in the casino crackling. It was about to be another headache. Before Donavan could lunge, Klaus’s demeanor changed. Like flipping a switch, Klaus unleashed the aura he normally kept locked down—a low, oppressive pressure that weighed on the mind and body, subtle yet unmistakable. Only those tuned to instincts felt it first. The nearby players shifted uncomfortably. Vanessa paled without knowing why. Klaus’s voice dropped into something silkier,
CHAPTER 89
But for now, she’d retreat. Regroup. Plot. Because no one made Allison Hunt feel small and got away with it. Not even Klaus Whitlock. The look in her eyes as she walked away was a quiet vow, a storm gathering at the edges of the night, promising this wasn’t over. --- Klaus watched her leave with a small, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Some people never learned. He tucked his hands into his pockets, remembering the phone he had "liberated" belonging to Allison, and the mysterious auction items that his system had made him buy. His mind shifted back to the more immediate concerns—Isabella. He went upstairs where Isabella was waiting for him, perched elegantly on a velvet settee like a queen in exile. The room they used for private meetings was awash with soft golden lighting, casting long shadows across the mahogany floors and marble-topped side tables. From here, the hum of the casino below was just a distant whisper, like a restless ocean under the
CHAPTER 88
A jackpot machine erupted in celebration. But at a table, seated beneath a cascade of golden chandeliers and a low halo of smoke and velvet light, the atmosphere was something else entirely. Klaus Whitlock now leaned back in a chair. Across from him sat Allison Hunt, radiating poise and danger in equal measure. She wasn’t just another pretty face dressed in designer silk with a glint of charm in her eyes. No—Klaus had never expected the woman he once loved to be so shameless and calculated. “I’ve never really had a good friend,” she said softly, tracing the rim of her wineglass with a manicured finger. “Everyone I meet is after something. Status, money, fame. I just... I think you and I could be different. You seem real, Klaus. Like someone who’s above all the noise.” He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes studied her, not with lust or curiosity, but with the same scrutiny one might give a snake basking in the sun. Attractive, yes. But venomous. Then Klaus leaned in slightly,
