The New Tycoon Conquers Every Business

Chapter 7: Spending to survive

Marcus stared at his phone screen, doing the math over and over until his eyes burned.

>>Current balance: $4,520.47<<

If he spent it all today at 200% rebate, tomorrow he'd wake up with $9,040.94. Spend that, get $18,081.88. One more cycle and he'd have $36,163.76—enough for the Morrison investment, enough to start positioning for Derek's car, enough to pay Voss and still have breathing room.

The problem was figuring out what to spend $4,500 on in a single day without looking completely insane.

The system interface pulsed:

[STRATEGIC SPENDING REQUIRED]

[RECOMMENDATION: BUSINESS INFRASTRUCTURE]

[ASSETS > CONSUMPTION]

[BUILD YOUR EMPIRE]

Business infrastructure. Marcus pulled up his newly downloaded business knowledge, sorting through concepts until something clicked. He couldn't just throw money at random luxuries anymore. Every dollar needed to serve a purpose, build toward something larger.

He needed an office. A legitimate business presence.

Marcus grabbed his jacket, the expensive one that still felt foreign on his shoulders, and headed out. The WeWork building downtown had been a landmark he'd passed a thousand times on delivery runs, never imagining he'd walk through its glass doors.

The receptionist looked up with a practiced smile. "Can I help you?"

"I need an office space. Something small to start. What are my options?"

"Of course! We have several membership tiers. Our hot desk option starts at $350 per month, dedicated desks at $550, and private offices starting at $800."

Marcus did quick math. A private office for six months would be $4,800, close to his entire balance. "I'll take a private office. Six months, paid in full."

The receptionist's eyebrows rose slightly. "Excellent choice. Let me get you set up with our membership coordinator."

Thirty minutes later, Marcus had signed a contract for a small private office on the fourteenth floor, paid $4,800 upfront, and received a key card that granted him 24/7 access. The office was barely large enough for a desk and two chairs, but it had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Chicago River and a door with a nameplate that would read: SYLVESTER HOLDINGS.

>>Current balance: -$279.53.<<

Marcus winced at the overdraft but forced himself to trust the system. Tomorrow morning, $9,600 would hit his account. The math worked. It had to work.

He spent the rest of the day setting up the space. The WeWork location had a business center where he printed incorporation documents for Sylvester Holdings LLC—templates the system had helpfully provided in his downloaded business knowledge. He wasn't just Marcus Sylvester anymore. He was Marcus Sylvester, CEO.

The words felt ridiculous and terrifying and absolutely right.

At 11 PM, Marcus finally headed home. The apartment was dark except for a light under Zoe's door. He knocked softly.

"What?" Her voice was sharp with concentration.

"It's me."

"It's always you. Come in or don't."

Marcus pushed open the door. Zoe sat at her new laptop, the one he'd bought her, surrounded by textbooks and notes written in her precise handwriting. She looked up, her expression softening slightly.

"You look exhausted," she said.

"Long day. Good day, though."

"Mom said you were out buying office space." Zoe set down her pen. "Marcus, what's really going on? And don't give me that investment app bullshit. I'm not stupid."

Marcus sat on the edge of her bed, suddenly aware of how much he couldn't tell her. The system, the impossible money, the threats from Voss. None of it would make sense. Hell, it barely made sense to him.

"I got lucky," he said finally. "Really, incredibly lucky. And I'm trying to turn that luck into something permanent before it runs out."

Zoe studied his face with her unsettling intelligence. At sixteen, she already saw through people better than most adults. "Lucky how?"

"The kind of luck you don't question, you just use."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have right now." Marcus stood. "But I promise you, everything I'm doing is to make things better for this family. For you, for Mom, for Dad. You have to trust me."

"I do trust you," Zoe said quietly. "That's what scares me. Because you're different now, Marcus. Not bad different, just... different. Like you're becoming someone else."

"Maybe I am. Maybe that's not a bad thing."

After he left her room, Marcus collapsed on his couch-bed and checked his phone obsessively until sleep finally claimed him at 2 AM.

---

The notification woke him at 6:47 AM sharp.

>>Deposit received: $9,600.00 from LIMITLESS SYSTEM<<

>>Current balance: $9,320.47.<<

Marcus allowed himself thirty seconds to feel the rush of relief, then got to work. Today's goal: spend it all again, push toward the $18K threshold.

The system had been clear: assets over consumption. He needed things that would help him build a real business, things that would make Sylvester Holdings legitimate in the eyes of people like Robert Morrison and, eventually, Richard Hastings.

First stop: a phone store. His cracked-screen burner phone had to go. Marcus walked into the Apple Store at 10 AM and emerged forty-five minutes later with an iPhone 15 Pro Max, AppleCare, and all the accessories. Total: $1,547.

Next: a laptop. His business needed computing power. The Microsoft Store provided a Surface Laptop Studio—$2,899 with upgrades and software packages.

>>Current balance: $4,874.47.<<

Marcus stood on Michigan Avenue, watching people rush past with their purposeful strides and expensive coffee. He needed to spend almost five thousand more dollars today. On what?

Marcus headed back to Nordstrom. James, the sales associate who'd helped him before, lit up when he walked in.

"Mr. Sylvester! Back so soon?"

"Need a full wardrobe. Business casual, business formal. Everything someone running a company would wear."

James's eyes gleamed. "I have just the things."

Two hours later, Marcus had acquired three more suits, eight dress shirts, four pairs of shoes, ties, belts, and a leather messenger bag that cost more than his old monthly rent. The total came to $4,793.

"Will there be anything else?" James asked, ringing up the purchase.

Marcus looked at his phone. Current balance after this purchase: $81.47.

Close enough.

"That'll do it," Marcus said, handing over his card.

The transaction processed. James arranged for everything to be delivered to Marcus's new office address, shook his hand with genuine warmth, and said something that made Marcus's chest tight: "It's been a pleasure serving you, Mr. Sylvester. You're going to do great things."

Marcus walked out of Nordstrom wearing one of his new suits, carrying his new phone and laptop, feeling like an imposter in expensive clothes. But when he caught his reflection in a store window, he barely recognized himself.

Maybe that was the point.

He spent the rest of the day at his new office, setting up his laptop, organizing his space, and drafting the contract for Robert Morrison. The system's business knowledge made it easy—terms that protected both parties, clauses that allowed for growth, language that sounded professional without being predatory.

At 5 PM, his phone buzzed. A reminder he'd set: Derek's father wanted to meet tomorrow at 6 PM.

Marcus pulled up everything he could find about Richard Hastings online. The man was a legend in Chicago business circles—son of the company founder, expanded from luxury car dealerships into real estate and private equity. Net worth estimated at $1.2 billion. Known for being ruthless in negotiations and generous in victory.

Why did he want to meet Marcus?

The question gnawed at him as evening faded to night. Marcus worked until his eyes burned, then checked his phone one last time before heading home.

The deposit would hit tomorrow morning. $9,587.40 would become $19,174.80. One more spending cycle and he'd be at the threshold he needed.

One more day of playing this impossible game.

Marcus locked his office. his office, with his name on the door and he took the elevator down. The night security guard nodded to him like he belonged there.

Maybe he was starting to.