The Supreme God of Wealth

Chapter 7

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the wide marble floor of the lobby.

It felt entirely different now; the last time Adam had been here, he was a desperate man rushing against a system countdown. Now, he viewed the lobby not with awe, but with the cold eyes of a man who could buy the entire building.

The morning shift was in full swing, and the air smelled of expensive lilies and floor wax.

Adam stepped out, his posture naturally upright. The tailored shirt Sophia had brought him felt like a second skin, the high-quality fabric moving with him instead of bunching up like his old clothes used to. When he walked across the floor, he noticed a shift in the environment. The bellhops and desk clerks, people who would usually look right through someone like the old Adam, were now tracking his movement. They didn't see a struggling student. They saw a high-value guest whose very presence demanded a cleared path.

Sophia was waiting near the grand entrance, clutching a sleek tablet to her chest. When she saw him, her professional mask slipped for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widened as she took in his new look; the morning light made the change impossible to ignore. She quickly regained her composure and stepped forward to meet him.

"Good morning again, Mr. Carter," she said, her voice soft. "I noticed you didn't touch the breakfast tray I brought up. Was it not to your liking? Our executive chef can prepare anything you desire, even if it isn't on the menu."

Adam didn't slow his pace, but he gave her a brief nod. "I skipped it. I lost my appetite."

A look of genuine concern flickered across Sophia’s face. "I am very sorry to hear that, sir. I will ensure the kitchen staff is notified. We will have a signature selection ready for you upon your return, something more suited to your palate."

She moved gracefully alongside him, holding out a biometric payment terminal. Adam reached out, his fingers brushing against the device as he took it from her. He could feel her gaze on him, a mix of curiosity and something more intense, but he remained focused on the task at hand. He was oblivious to the way she smoothed her skirt or the way her breath hitched when he stood close. To him, she was a professional doing her job, and he had a world to dismantle.

"I’ll be staying another night," Adam said, his voice level. "I also need a car and a driver. Something discreet, but I want the highest level of protection the hotel can provide."

​Sophia’s eyes sharpened; she understood immediately. "Of course, Mr. Carter. As a Tier 1 guest, you have unrestricted access to our Black Fleet. We maintain a selection of armored, Grade-B7 executive transports that are strictly off-limits to our standard Diamond members. They are ghost-registered and equipped with full signal-jamming suites. The daily rate for the vehicle and a dedicated tactical driver is fifty thousand dollars. Shall I add that to your bill along with the suite renewal?”

​"Do it," Adam replied. He paused, his thumb hovering over the Titanium Fold. "And add ten thousand dollars to the incidentals. I want it in cash—new hundreds, delivered to the car before I depart. I find carrying plastic... tedious."

​Sophia didn't even blink. "Certainly, sir. Our concierge will have the currency prepared and waiting in the vehicle's console."

​He simply tapped his custom phone against the terminal. A soft, melodic chime confirmed the $260,000 deduction. He didn't even check the screen. To a man with a trillion dollars, a few hundred thousand was just a rounding error on a bank statement.

Adam walked through the glass doors as a porter held them open. The morning air was crisp, but he didn't shiver. The SUV was already idling at the curb. It was a massive, blacked-out void against the morning sun, the heat from the exhaust shimmering slightly over the asphalt. 

Elias, a man in a sharp suit and leather gloves, opened the rear door.

​

Adam slid into the leather interior—the scent of new car and cedar filling his senses—and immediately noticed a heavy, cream-colored envelope resting on the center armrest.

​"The concierge's compliments, Mr. Carter," Elias said, closing the door with a solid, dampened thud. "The currency you requested is inside. Ten thousand, in sequential hundreds."

​Adam didn't open it. He simply slid the envelope into the inner pocket of his blazer, the solid bulk of it resting against his chest. It was a strange sensation; for years, ten dollars had been a lifeline. Now, ten thousand was just a prop for the performance he was about to give.

"Where to, sir?" Elias asked, catching Adam’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

"The University District. West Side Apartments," Adam said.

When the car pulled away from the curb, Adam leaned back. He pulled out his phone and opened the RM23 site again. Olivia’s video was still at the top of the feed, but the comment section had turned into a toxic wasteland of people mocking his disappearance. He saw a comment from Leo, one of his roommates: "Hope he took his trash with him. The room smells better already."

Adam’s grip tightened on the phone. Leo and Ben had been his roommates for two years. He didn't deny the facts: they had covered his rent when he was drowning in his mother’s hospital bills, and they had bought the groceries he couldn't afford. But they had turned that charity into a cage.

​For every dollar they spent, they had extracted a pound of his dignity. They had treated him like a live-in servant… forcing him to do their laundry, scrub their floors, and endure their constant insults just to keep a roof over his head. They hadn't been his friends; they had been his creditors, and they had enjoyed every second of his misery.

​He was done being their charity project. He would pay the debt, settle the account, and then he would erase them from his life.

The SUV navigated the narrow, pothole-ridden streets of the student district. It looked wildly out of place parked in front of the peeling gray paint of the apartment complex. Adam stepped out, the heavy thud of the car door sounding like a gavel. He didn't wait for Elias; he walked straight up the stairs, his footsteps heavy on the creaking wood.

He reached door 4B and didn't knock. He turned the handle and walked in.

The apartment smelled of stale beer and old pizza. Ben was sitting on the sagging couch, staring at his phone, while Leo was rummaging through the fridge.

"Yo, did the landlord finally send someone to fix the—" Ben started to look up, but his voice died in his throat. He stared at the tall, well-dressed man standing in their living room. "Who the hell are you?"

Leo turned around, a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand. "Classifieds are on the door, man. We aren't looking for a sub-let."

Adam looked at them, his brown eyes cold. "It’s been twelve hours, and you’ve already forgotten me?"

The roommates froze. They looked at the jawline, the height, and finally, those unmistakable eyes.

"Adam?" Leo gasped, the pizza sliding from his hand and hitting the floor. "What the... what did you do? Did you get surgery? And where did you get those clothes?"

Ben stood up, his shock quickly turning into the familiar sneer of a bully. "Wait, I get it. You stole some rich guy’s gear after you ran away last night, didn't you? Or did you find a sugar mama to pay for a makeover?" He laughed, but it sounded forced. The presence Adam radiated was making him sweat. "Doesn't matter. You still owe us two thousand dollars for the back rent and the food you’ve been leaching off us. And don't think a fancy suit gets you out of the pile of laundry you left in the bathroom. Pay up or get out."

Adam walked toward them. He didn't stop until he was inches away from Ben. He was nearly half a head taller now, and the sheer mass of his new physique made Ben look frail.

"Two thousand dollars," Adam repeated. His voice was low and heavy, the kind of sound that made people go quiet. "That’s the price of our friendship, isn't it?"

"Friendship?" Leo snorted, trying to regain his confidence. "You were a charity project, Adam.”

The words should have stung, but they only felt like a cold breeze against a stone wall. Adam realized then that he hadn't lost friends; he had simply finished a prison sentence.

Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills he had asked Sophia to prepare earlier. He counted out twenty bills, taking his time with every one. He flicked them one by one at Ben’s chest. The paper notes fluttered to the dirty carpet.

"There is your two thousand," Adam said.

Ben stared at the money on the floor, his eyes greedy. He reached down to grab it, but Adam stepped on his hand. Not hard enough to break bone, but enough to pin him to the floor.

"Hey! What the hell!" Ben yelled, his face turning red.

"I’m moving out," Adam said, his voice deathly calm. "I have some things in the corner of the small room. You have thirty minutes to put them in a box and bring them down to the black SUV out front. If a single item is missing, or if you’re a minute late, I won't just buy this building and throw you into the street. I’ll make sure your names are blacklisted from every rental agency in this city."

"You can't do that!" Leo shouted, though he was backing away toward the kitchen counter.

Adam pulled his foot back and looked at his phone. "Twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds left."

He turned and walked out of the apartment without looking back. He could hear them scrambling behind him, their voices hushed and terrified as they realized the leech they knew was gone.

Downstairs, Adam stood by the SUV. He pulled up the RM23 site. A new post had just appeared, a blurry photo of him stepping out of the car in front of the apartment. The caption read: "Who is this guy? Is this the mystery investor from the hotel? He’s at the West Side apartments!"

The comments were flying. People were trying to identify him. Adam watched as the digital world began to burn with curiosity. He looked up and saw Ben and Leo stumbling down the stairs, carrying a single cardboard box. They looked exhausted and terrified. They set the box down on the sidewalk, not daring to look Adam in the eye.

"It’s... it’s all there," Ben muttered, glancing at the luxury vehicle and the silent driver.

Adam didn't acknowledge them. He nodded to Elias, who placed the box on the seat. Adam climbed back into the rear seat.

"The University," Adam said. "The Faculty of Business and Economics." 

***

Adam’s new phone vibrated against his palm as the SUV pulled smoothly away from the curb.

A cold, crystalline display shimmered in the air before him.

[Quest: Secure official verification of your identity at the University.]

[Status: Your biometric data (Face/Height/Structure) is a 98% mismatch with the Adam Carter on file.]

[Risk: Campus Security protocols will flag you as an intruder.]

[Condition: You cannot reveal the system or use the Absolute Authority aura on staff.]

 [Reward: 50 Wealth Points + Passive Skill: Eye of the Investor.]

Adam stared at the holographic text. The old Adam would have panicked and looked for a place to hide. But this Adam just narrowed his eyes.

"Elias," Adam said, his voice dropping into that new, resonant baritone. "If the world’s records say a man doesn't exist, but he has the capital to buy the world, who changes first?"

Elias glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. "Records are just ink and digital bits, sir. They follow the path of least resistance. Usually, that path is paved with gold."

Adam leaned back, his mind clicking into high gear. He didn't need to hack the university. That was a criminal’s move. He needed to make his presence so undeniable that the university would be grateful for the discrepancy.

He tapped into the university’s financial portal on his phone. He bypassed the student loan section and went straight to the Endowment and Development page.

"System," Adam thought. "Rick Global is a donor here, aren't they?"

[Processing…]

[Confirmed. Rick Global contributes $50,000 annually to the Business Faculty. They currently hold Silver Tier naming rights for the student lounge.]

Adam’s lip curled into a cold smile. Fifty thousand. It was a joke.

"Authorize a transfer," Adam commanded. "Five million dollars. Destination: University General Endowment Fund. Anonymous. The only condition is a priority update to the Student Security and VIP Access database for one specific account."

[Transaction Initiated...]

[Authorized.]

A notification pinged on his screen. The University’s server had just received a donation larger than the last decade’s total alumni contributions combined.

"Elias," Adam said, watching the campus gates appear in the distance. "Don't stop at the general parking lot. Take me straight to the Dean’s private entrance."

"Understood, sir."

The SUV rolled forward. Outside, students were already lining the walkways, their eyes glued to the dark windows of the luxury vehicle. They were waiting for a mystery investor. They were waiting for a god.

Adam reached into the cardboard box beside him and pulled out his old, tattered student ID. The face on it—bloated, tired, and defeated—looked like an autopsy photo of a man he no longer knew. He didn't throw it away. He tucked it into the pocket of his bespoke blazer.

He wanted it with him when he looked Charles in the eye. He wanted to remember exactly whose life he was about to end.