The Trillionaire's Revenge: 100x Cashback System.

Chapter 3: Midnight Iron

The crisp night air hit Caleb’s face as he stepped out of Vanguard Tailors, but the damp chill no longer penetrated his bones. The dark charcoal cashmere suit retained his body heat, shielding him completely from the lingering drizzle. His leather Oxfords clicked rhythmically against the wet pavement, a sharp, steady cadence replacing the wet squish of his ruined shoes.

He looked down at his phone. The screen was still cracked, a web of shattered glass running across the corner, but the display illuminated his reality in stark black and white: $10,780,012.45.

His chest rose and fell in a slow, deliberate breath. His stomach gave a sharp, hollow growl, reminding him that he hadn't eaten a proper meal since yesterday afternoon. A sudden wave of lightheadedness washed over him—a physical reminder that despite the millions sitting in his account, his body was still exhausted, stressed, and running on pure adrenaline.

He paused under the warm amber glow of a streetlamp, leaning his shoulder against the wet steel pole for a brief second.

"One step at a time," Caleb muttered under his breath, closing his eyes to let the faint dizziness pass. "You can't claim an empire if you faint on the sidewalk."

He straightened his posture, adjusted his cuffs, and continued down Grand Avenue toward the glowing neon emblem of Aura Motors.

The dealership occupied an entire city block, a massive palace of glass, steel, and warm spotlights housing some of the rarest vehicles on the planet. Even at 2:00 AM, the glass facade gleamed brightly. Through the window, Caleb could see a lone night-shift manager sitting behind a floating curved desk near a gleaming matte-black SUV.

Caleb pushed open the heavy glass door. A soft, electronic chime sounded throughout the high-ceilinged showroom.

The man behind the desk looked up. His name tag read Vincent - Midnight Client Director. Vincent was in his late thirties, wearing a sharp, dark blue suit with a silk pocket square. His eyes immediately locked onto Caleb as he entered.

Instead of rolling his eyes or shouting for security, Vincent’s gaze carefully evaluated Caleb’s appearance: the perfectly fitted cashmere suit, the immaculate leather shoes, and the subtle, steady way he carried himself. However, as Caleb stepped closer into the bright spotlights, Vincent also noticed the cracked phone held in his hand and the tired, red-rimmed strain around his eyes.

Vincent stood up, stepping around the desk with a measured, professional smile.

"Good evening, sir," Vincent said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. "Welcome to Aura Motors. It’s quite late, or perhaps quite early, depending on your schedule. How may I assist you tonight?"

Caleb stopped a few feet away, feeling a sudden pang of caution. After the brutal treatment at the Vance estate and the initial hostility at the tailor shop, Vincent’s calm politeness felt almost disarming. His mind briefly flashed to Chloe’s disgusted face when she handed him the divorce papers, making his stomach tighten with lingering resentment.

"I need a vehicle," Caleb said, his voice quiet but firm. "Something reliable, black, and ready to drive off the lot immediately. I have a very important meeting at eight o'clock this morning."

Vincent nodded slowly, his eyes flickering briefly to the cracked phone screen in Caleb's hand before returning to his eyes. "Of course, sir. All our inventory on the main floor is fully inspected, detailed, and registered for immediate road delivery. May I ask what style of vehicle you prefer? Executive sedan, grand tourer, or something with more presence?"

"Presence," Caleb replied instantly. "And security."

"Follow me, sir," Vincent said, gesturing toward the center of the floor.

He led Caleb toward a massive, imposing vehicle resting on a raised turntable. It was a custom-armored G-63 Apex Edition, finished in a deep, light-absorbing satin black. The dark tinted windows, reinforced carbon-fiber body panels, and heavy-duty alloy wheels gave it the appearance of a luxury fortress on wheels.

"This is our premier custom build," Vincent explained, tapping the reinforced glass gently with his ring. "VR7 ballistic armor rating, run-flat military tires, acoustic soundproofing, and a custom twin-turbo V8 engine producing nearly eight hundred horsepower. The previous buyer’s corporate financing fell through two hours ago, so it is fully prepped, detailed, and ready for immediate transfer."

Caleb walked around the vehicle, running his hand over the cold, matte-black hood. The heavy, unyielding steel beneath his fingertips felt solid, permanent, and indestructible—a stark contrast to the fragile, helpless life he had lived for the past two years.

"How much?" Caleb asked, looking Vincent directly in the eyes.

Vincent hesitated for a fraction of a second, adjusting his tie. He didn't want to lose a potential midnight buyer, but the price was astronomical for an impulse purchase. "With the full armor package, luxury interior upgrade, and immediate overnight registration fees... the total comes to six hundred and eighty thousand dollars."

Caleb’s heart gave a slight, instinctual thud at the number. Six hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Just six hours ago, he would have had to work for fourteen years as a delivery driver without spending a single penny on food or rent just to afford this single machine. The lingering mindset of poverty briefly tightened its grip on his chest, making his throat feel dry.

Is this real? Can I really just buy this?

He gripped his cracked phone tightly, taking a quiet, deep breath to steady his nerves. He tapped his screen, opening his banking app token.

"Ring it up," Caleb said, his voice flat.

Vincent’s eyebrows twitched upward in genuine surprise. He hadn't expected a direct conversion without a test drive or a lengthy negotiation. "Sir... do you wish to initiate a wire transfer or review our corporate leasing terms?"

"Direct payment," Caleb said, stepping toward the mobile terminal on the counter. "Card token."

Vincent swallowed softly, picking up the black payment device with careful hands. He entered the exact amount: $680,000.00.

"Whenever you're ready, sir," Vincent said, presenting the machine with professional deference.

Caleb brought his cracked screen close to the reader.

Beep.

The reader chimed. Caleb held his breath, his eyes fixed on the small LCD screen. For three long seconds, the terminal displayed a spinning loading icon. A sudden flicker of anxiety shot through his mind—what if it fails this time? What if the system was a temporary illusion?

Then, the screen flashed bright green.

APPROVED.

A loud, mechanical whir echoed through the quiet showroom as a long paper receipt began printing out.

[Transaction Confirmed!] [Amount Spent: $680,000.00 USD.] [100x Cashback Rule Triggered!]

[Processing Cashback...] [$68,000,000.00 USD Has Been Deposited Into Your Primary Account!]

Buzz.

The cracked phone in Caleb's hand vibrated violently.

NOTIFICATION: First Capital Bank. Deposit: $68,000,000.00 USD. Available Balance: $78,100,012.45.

Caleb stared at the notification. Seventy-eight million dollars.

A sharp gasp escaped his lungs. The sheer magnitude of the number hit him like a physical wave, causing his pulse to race wildly against his ribs. He blinked three times in rapid succession, closing the app and reopening it just to verify the balance. The digits remained untouched, glaring back at him in brilliant white light.

The fear, the doubt, the residual panic of a broke man being kicked out into the rain—all of it evaporated into thin air, replaced by a surging, ironclad calm.

Vincent stared at the green approval screen on the payment terminal, his mouth slightly open. He looked from the receipt to Caleb, his composure completely breaking for a moment before he quickly recovered, bowing deeply at his waist.

"Payment confirmed in full, Mr. Vance," Vincent said, his voice filled with profound respect and awe. "The keys, title, and temporary registration documents are being finalized right now. I will personally hand you the master key fob in five minutes."

[Ding!] [Deep Admiration & Respect Detected from Target: Vincent.] [Converting Emotional Feedback into System Points...] [Received: +800 System Points!]

Caleb felt a warm, refreshing sensation spread through his mind, washing away the last remnants of his physical fatigue. His head felt completely clear, his senses sharp and alert.

"Vincent," Caleb said smoothly, sliding his phone back into his inner jacket pocket. "Is there a quiet lounge here where I can get a fresh espresso and breakfast prepared?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Vance!" Vincent replied eagerly, gesturing toward the private VIP suite upstairs. "Our private kitchen is fully stocked, and I will have our night chef prepare whatever you desire immediately. Please, right this way."

Twenty minutes later, Caleb sat in a plush leather armchair inside the elevated glass lounge, sipping a double shot of rich, dark espresso and eating a warm, fresh breakfast plate.

Down below on the showroom floor, the massive matte-black armored SUV was being driven off the turntable toward the exit bay, its engine emitting a low, powerful rumble that vibrated softly through the glass floorboards beneath his feet.

Caleb checked his watch. It was 3:30 AM.

In four and a half hours, Julian Cole and Arthur Vance would walk into the executive board room of Cole Logistics, expecting to sign off on the final destruction of Caleb's dignity and celebrate their new corporate partnership.

Caleb set his coffee cup down on the saucer with a soft, decisive clink. He looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the dark city skyline, his eyes cold, sharp, and entirely devoid of fear.

"Enjoy your sleep, Julian," Caleb whispered softly to the empty room. "Because at eight o'clock, I'm taking everything you own."