2025-07-14 11:33:55“Useless boy, when will you stop being the punching bag of this world?”
John muttered the words to himself as he dragged his aching body through the rusted gate of the hostel. His school uniform clung to his skin, torn at the sleeves, stained with dried blood, and splattered with mud. A swollen lip, a bruised cheekbone, and a knee that stung with every step—those were the free souvenirs he collected after yet another brutal encounter with campus bullies.
It was always the same: taunts in the hallway, punches in the empty corners, and mockery from the shadows. Nobody ever stood up for John. Not even the lecturers. Especially not the girls. He was the nameless face everyone passed without a second glance.
His room, barely bigger than a janitor’s closet, smelled of sweat, pain, and desperation. He threw his bag onto the creaky old table, unbuttoned his shirt with trembling fingers, and slumped onto his tiny bed.
But the world wouldn’t even let him breathe.
RIING!
His phone buzzed harshly. It was Rose, the lounge manager.He picked up the call. “Hello…”
“You useless cockroach!” Her shrill voice exploded through the speaker like a whip. “Why the hell haven’t you started clearing the lounges? Or are you waiting for the dirt to start walking out by itself?”
John’s eyes tightened shut. “I just got ba…”
“I don’t care if you just came back from the moon!” she snapped. “You have thirty minutes to start, or I’ll give that job to another broke stray like you.”
CLICK.
She hung up.John clenched the phone in his hand and bit his lip until it bled. He didn’t have the luxury to argue. That was his only job, the only thing keeping his stomach filled and his rent barely paid. And more than anything, he needed the little money to take Rita out that night.
Rita… the flame in his freezing life. The untouchable goddess of the campus. She walked like the world belonged to her, smiled like the sun kissed only her lips. Every man on campus knew her name. And every girl envied her throne.
John loved her like air—blindly, hopelessly, fully. He’d do anything for her.
He peeled off his dirty uniform, splashed water over his face, threw on a hoodie, and rushed back out. Every step he took reminded him of his bruises. But pain had long become his second skin.
The lounges were massive—five floors of filth and cigarette stubs. He started from the top, pushing his bucket, broom, and mop like a ghost haunting the halls. By the time he got to the third floor, his knees were jelly.
He sat against the wall, resting his head between his arms.
“Look who’s trying to breathe,” a familiar voice sneered.
SPLASH!
Ice-cold water poured over John’s head.
He looked up slowly.
Jerry.
The devil himself.
Jerry stood with a grin carved into his handsome face, the empty bucket in hand. His two friends—Anthony and Malik—snickered beside him like hyenas watching a wounded deer. Jerry’s designer sneakers sparkled under the hallway lights. His Rolex glinted like a threat. Born into a multimillion-dollar family, Jerry was untouchable. His father donated buildings to the school. His uncle sat on the board. Even the lecturers kissed his feet.
Jerry began dropping more dirt on the floor, dragging mud from his shoe across the clean tiles.
“You missed a spot, janitor,” Jerry mocked. “You should hurry up before I use your head to mop it.”
John swallowed his anger. His fists clenched, but his voice stayed silent. He dropped to his knees and cleaned the mess.
“Look at this fool,” Malik laughed. “He even enjoys being our pet.”
Jerry kicked the bucket across the hallway and cracked his knuckles. He stepped closer. “You want me to teach you how to clean faster? Maybe I should write it on your face…”
RIIING!
Jerry’s phone buzzed. He paused, glanced at the screen, and walked off to answer it. His friends followed.
John cleaned quickly, like his life depended on it. Because maybe it did.
By the time he returned to his hostel, his hands were trembling and his back was screaming. But his eyes were on the clock. 6:15 PM.
Dinner with Rita. His last hope. The one person he believed could give his life meaning.
He had exactly $3,000—his savings from over a year of hustling, cleaning, and starving. He’d never held that much cash before. He would have used it for rent, or to fix his broken laptop, or to buy new shoes. But Rita wanted dinner. Fancy, high-end dinner. And John wanted her to feel like a queen.
He didn’t have many clothes, so he just wore a black shirt with faded jeans. No lotion, no perfume—just soap and hope.
He walked all the way to the restaurant. The money was too tight for transport. When he got there, Rita wasn’t around. That gave him time to decorate the table—roses, candles, a custom menu. He begged the staff, pleaded with the manager, and finally got the most beautiful setup in the place.
He smiled as he looked at the table.
“This is it,” he whispered. “This is the night everything changes.”
7:00 PM.
Still no Rita.7:15.
His fingers began to shake.7:30.
His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten all day. He picked up the fork. Maybe he’d just take one bite while waiting—
VROOOM!
A sleek white Benz stopped at the front of the restaurant.John dropped the fork and stood up, hope swelling in his chest.
The door opened.
And his world shattered.
Rita stepped out—her red dress hugging every curve like sin in satin. Her laughter echoed as she clung to the arm of Jerry. Behind them came Anthony, Malik, and two other friends. Dressed in wealth. Radiating mockery.
They walked into the restaurant like they owned it.
Rita saw John. Her smile dropped.
John’s eyes pleaded. “R-Rita?”
Jerry laughed. “You didn’t tell me your houseboy was here.”
John’s lips quivered. “Why… why are you here… with them?”
Jerry walked up to the table and picked up the wine glass. “So this is your big date night?” He poured the wine over the candles.
SPLASH.
John flinched.
Jerry slapped him hard.
SMACK!
The restaurant went silent. Nobody dared interfere. Everyone knew who Jerry was.
John touched his cheek. It burned.
Jerry’s friends scattered the table, breaking the plates, spilling the food, and mocking every part of John’s existence.
Something snapped.
John clenched his fists and punched Jerry straight in the nose.
Blood sprayed out.
Gasps echoed. Jerry staggered back, holding his face.
But the moment was short-lived.
Anthony, Malik, and two others jumped on John. They beat him to the floor, kicked his ribs, and stepped on his hands. The customers looked away. No one moved.
They dragged him up.
“Apologize to Jerry!” Anthony demanded.
John, barely able to see through the blood, nodded. “I… I’m—”
WHAM!
Jerry punched him again. Blood dripped from John’s nose like a leaking faucet.
John crumbled to the floor.
His chest heaved. His eyes turned to Rita.
She stood there. Watching. Saying nothing.
He reached out, held her ankle gently. “Rita… please… don’t leave me…”
BAM!
She kicked his head.
He let go.
Jerry adjusted his collar and pulled out his phone. “Call security. I want this trash off the premises.”
Two security guards marched toward them.
John couldn’t move.
His body ached, but the betrayal hurt more. The humiliation was a blade twisting in his heart.
Then.
He heard heels. Sharp. Confidence. Powerful.
The restaurant’s doors burst open.
A woman in a crisp white gown walked in. Her presence silenced the room. She had the aura of authority—rich, composed, and untouchable.
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Chapter 361: THE GENERAL’S FINAL KEY
He didn't look back or check for Lady Hampton. He simply walked as the mission was complete.John was two blocks away, high on a rooftop, studying the scene through binoculars, when his phone buzzed again.The refinery is open. Go. I will join you at the site when I am done.Done. He got it. She hadn't just flipped a switch. She had walked into The Exchange to tie up her own loose ends, to seal the John family’s destruction with her own hand.Another coded message followed immediately: Location: Sector Nine, old Thorne Oil Refinery. Single door, retinal scanner. Two minutes.He snapped his head up. Twenty minutes to Sector Nine. He needed a vehicle and a clean driver immediately. A taxi or a bus was too slow, too public.He pulled up Sarah’s contact. Lady Hampton had forbidden him from using her for the 'test.' But this was not a test of obedience; this was a billion-dollar race against the clock. He couldn't afford to trust Lady Hampton’s timing.He sent a single, encrypted word to S
Chapter 360: THE PHOENIX CODE II
The encrypted sequence. The first lock. A wave of cold air washed over him. His father had planned for this, for total collapse. It wasn't sentimentality at all; it was a contingency plan hidden inside a memory.He studied the code for twenty seconds, his memory, honed by years of handling classified data, committing it instantly. He closed the box, slid it back into its compartment, and twisted the master key until he heard the final, satisfying click.Before he left, he wiped down the vent cover, the small area around the box—everything. He was a ghost, leaving nothing behind. Following her rules perfectly.He climbed out of the vent and retreated through the maintenance tunnels, finding a different route to the surface. He emerged from a side door, half a block from City Hall, just as the 8:00 AM rush hour started to choke the streets.He pulled his phone. A single word to her: Rising.The reply was instantaneous: The second key is not a key. It is a place. Meet me at The Exchange,
Chapter 359: THE PHOENIX CODE I
“Done,” John said. The single word felt like a death—of his old life—and the cold, hard birth of a necessary war.Lady Hampton’s cold, triumphant smile vanished, replaced by a look that was purely business, sharp as a surgical tool. “Good. We are partners now, John. First rule: silence. Total. The people hunting us aren't just listening; they have eyes everywhere. Everything will be two-step coded. Here is the first task.”She didn't hand him a file, and didn't need to. Her voice was low and precise. "The first key is in the old City Hall, safety deposit box 441. It’s a ghost box, registered to a company that died sixty years ago. The vault is set for audit at ten sharp. They seize the contents then. You have four hours."John glanced at his watch: 6:05 AM. "What does the key unlock?"“The first of three locks. Your father was a sentimental man with triple-layer security. This first key is for a dead man’s switch—a hidden account. The encrypted access sequence is printed on the back o
Chapter 358: THE FINAL NEGOTIATION
He was interrupted only once, by a short, coded message from one of his officers—not about the stock market, but about the private security firm. The cash from his asset fire-sale had successfully bought the controlling shares. He still owned the biggest private army in the City. He had a weapon, even if he had no country to defend. He was a general without an army to lead.Just before the first pale light of dawn touched the office windows, Sarah came back, looking calmer but exhausted."Sir," she said, putting a thin file on his desk. "The Bastion Trust. We found a loophole. It has one single hidden owner, protected by three layers of shell companies in three different countries. The last layer is a charity based in a faraway, neutral place. We tracked the charity’s registration to her old university professor—the same law expert who helped her with her father's estate decades ago. He’s dead, but the papers are flawless. She built this whole thing herself, starting when she was a s
Chapter 357: THE BETRAYAL
The phone was dead and cold in John’s hand—a useless piece of metal and glass. He didn’t throw it or drop it. He just slowly lowered it, looking at his own face reflected in the window as the city lights started to turn on for the night. The reflection was of a man utterly empty. His suit was still expensive, his watch a masterpiece, but the man wearing them was hollow. All his power, influence, and money had been violently ripped away and spilled out onto the street.“Sir,” Sarah, the legal messenger, whispered, her voice shaking. She stood exactly where she had been, holding the papers that legally took everything from him, as if they could somehow protect her from the financial disaster happening outside. “What should we do?”He didn't turn around. He didn't need to. He knew the fear in her eyes, the terror of everyone who had depended on him. He had been their sun, and now he was a weak, dying flame.“My orders,” John repeated, the word feeling like dust in his mouth. He finally t
Chapter 356: THE NECESSARY ALLIANCE
“I will burn the fields to deny Lady Hampton the harvest she is waiting for. Sell it all, and use the liquid capital to secretly purchase two specific things: a majority stake in every major Senate member’s personal investments, and the controlling shares of the City’s largest private security firm, the one Thorne tried to purchase.” His officers stared at him, aghast at the sheer scale of the destruction he was planning. “But the loss of face, the public humiliation of selling off so much in a single day—”“The loss of face is temporary and can be recovered. The loss of my entire life’s work is permanent and cannot be recovered if I do nothing,” John roared, full of fury. “Go, now! If the market thinks I’m suddenly weak and losing control, I’ll be buying my own government and my own private army in the span of a few hours. She took the past. I will control the very near future.”The market reacted within the hour, exactly as John had predicted. John’s public companies saw massive se
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