The New Tycoon Conquers Every Business

Chapter 1: The breaking point

Marcus Sylvester's fingers were numb. Not from the February cold that bit through his jacket, but from gripping the handlebars of his delivery bike for eleven straight hours. The discount roses he'd bought with $4.99 at the gas station were wilting in his backpack, their plastic wrapper crinkling with each pedal stroke.

He shouldn't have come. Every instinct in him screamed at him to turn around, to go home and collapse on the mattress he shared with the roaches in their studio apartment. But it was their anniversary. Three years. That had to mean something.

Luminaire Restaurant glowed like a beacon of everything Marcus would never be. Valet attendants in crisp uniforms opened doors for guests who probably spent more on dinner than his family made in a month. He had looked up the menu online: $85 steaks. $200 wine bottles. The kind of place where you needed a reservation three months in advance.

The kind of place Vanessa Chen deserved.

Marcus locked his bike, a rusted piece of junk held together by duct tape and prayer, and he tried to smooth down his delivery uniform. The red polo was stained, the logo peeling. He smelled like Chinese food and desperation.

"Sir, can I help you?" A hostess appeared, her smile polite but her eyes calculating him from head to toe. She had already categorized him: wrong place, wrong class, wrong everything.

"I'm meeting someone. My girlfriend, her name is Vanessa Chen. She should be—"

"Oh." The hostess's expression shifted. Not quite pity, but close. "She's already seated. Second floor, private dining room. Would you like me to—"

"I know where it is." The words came out harsher than intended.

Marcus climbed the marble staircase, Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the private room, he saw her. Vanessa, wearing a black dress he had never seen before, her hair swept up in an elegant twist. Beautiful. Radiant.

Laughing at something the man across from her had said.

Derek Hastings.

The universe had a sick sense of humor.

Marcus's hand froze on the door handle. Derek Hastings. The same Derek who had shoved his face into a toilet during their freshman year. The same Derek who had posted photos of Marcus's eviction notice on social media during senior year with the caption "Future homeless man spotted." The same Derek whose father owned Hastings Luxury Automotives, a company worth more than Marcus's entire neighborhood combined.

He pushed the door open.

Vanessa looked up, and for a microsecond, guilt flickered across her face. Then it hardened into something worse: resignation.

"Marcus." She said his name like an apology. "How dare you have come."

Derek leaned back in his chair, swirling wine that probably cost more than Marcus's bike. "Well, well. The delivery boy makes a special delivery." His smile was all teeth. "Love the cologne, bro. Kung Pao chicken?"

Marcus ignored him. "Vanessa, what's going on?"

She set down her wine glass with careful precision. "I was going to call you tomorrow. I didn't want to do this here, but since you showed up..." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small velvet box. The promise ring. The one Marcus had saved for over two months to buy. $870 that could've paid his electricity bill.

She slid it across the table.

"I can't do this anymore, Marcus. I need someone with ambition. Someone who's going somewhere." Her voice was steady and rehearsed. "You're a good person, but you're going to be broke forever. I can't build a future on good intentions."

The words landed like physical blows. Marcus's throat tightened. "I'm working three jobs. I'm trying to—"

"Trying isn't enough." She glanced at Derek, and something unspoken passed between them. "Derek has already offered to invest in my boutique idea. He's introducing me to his family's business connections. He's someone who can actually help me achieve my dreams."

Derek stood, adjusting his Rolex, the real kind, not the street knockoff Marcus had gotten for Christmas. "No hard feelings, delivery boy. Some men are born winners." He pulled out a platinum card and tossed it on the table. "Dinner's on me. Consider it a breakup gift."

Marcus stared at the ring in its box. His vision blurred. "Three years, Vanessa."

"Three years of watching you stay stuck." Her voice softened slightly. "I do care about you, Marcus. That's why I'm being honest. You need to want more for yourself. Want more for me"

"I do want more. I want—" His voice cracked. "My mom's sick. My dad works himself to death. My sister needs—"

"And that's exactly the problem." Vanessa stood, smoothing her dress. "You're always taking care of everyone else. When are you going to take care of yourself? When are you going to actually become someone? A woman as beautiful as myself cannot wait for you to keep dreaming"

Derek draped his arm across Vanessa's shoulders. Possessive. Triumphant. "She's with someone now, Marcus. A real man. Time to move on."

Marcus picked up the ring box. His hands were shaking. He wanted to throw it. Wanted to flip the table. Wanted to scream that he was worth something, that he mattered, that three years of love couldn't be erased by a platinum card and empty promises.

Instead, he pocketed the ring and walked out.

The February air hit him like a slap. Marcus unchained his bike, his fingers fumbling with the combination lock. Behind him, through the window, he saw Derek kiss Vanessa. She didn't pull away.

The ride home was a blur. Twelve miles through streets that got progressively darker and more dangerous. Past the shuttered factories and liquor stores with bars on the windows. Past the neighborhood where he'd grown up, where dreams went to die.

Their apartment building was a six-story brick testament to urban decay. The elevator had been broken for eight months. Marcus climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, his legs burning, his heart hollow.

Inside apartment 4C, his mother was asleep in the only bedroom, her breathing raspy and labored. His father wouldn't be home until 3 AM. The overnight security shift paid an extra dollar per hour. His sister Zoe sat at the kitchen table under a single lamp, surrounded by textbooks.

She looked up, taking in his expression. "Rough night?"

"Something like that."

"Let me guess. Vanessa finally realized she was dating a loser?" Zoe's voice was sharp, but her eyes held concern. At sixteen, she had mastered the art of loving her brother while being disappointed in him.

"Something like that," Marcus repeated. He dropped onto the secondhand couch that doubled as his bed.

Zoe closed her textbook. "For what it's worth, she wasn't good enough for you anyway. Anyone who can't see how hard you work is blind."

"Working hard doesn't matter if you stay poor."

"Then work smarter." She stood, heading to the bedroom she shared with their mother. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually change something. I believe in you, even if you don't believe in yourself."

Marcus lay in the darkness, staring at the water-stained ceiling. Somewhere in the building, a baby cried. A couple argued. Life continued its grinding, relentless march.

He pulled out his phone, screen cracked, battery at 8%, and looked at his bank account: $23.47.

"I'd give anything to change this," Marcus whispered to the empty room. "Anything."

His phone screen flickered. Then went black. Then blazed with light so bright he had to shield his eyes.

Letters materialized in the air before him, glowing with an electric blue light.

[LIMITLESS REBATE SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]

[SCANNING HOST...]

[HOST COMPATIBILITY: 100%]

[WELCOME, MARCUS SYLVESTER]