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Home / System / Wealth Ascension System / Chapter 8: The Higher Bid
Chapter 8: The Higher Bid
Author: Adewale
last update2026-02-09 19:44:06

The migraine was a fading ghost. Ethan stood in the silent suite, the System’s final diagnosis [SOLO OPERATIVE CAPACITY - INADEQUATE.], etched in his mind. To move forward, he couldn't be Ethan Cross. He needed to be a rumor, a signature, a ghost with a bank account.

Mr. AK. A ghost forged from a forgotten, mocking phrase of Claire's about "Ascendant Kings."

His first act was a call. "Mr. AK's office" contacted the Legacy Corp board with a single, startling figure. No small talk. Just numbers.

An hour later, he arrived at the Legacy Corp tower. As he reached for the door, it swung open from within.

Claire and Marcus Voss walked out, their posture radiating the warm, satisfied aura of predators after a successful hunt. They saw him, and their expressions cooled into identical looks of distaste.

"Well, look who's out and about," Claire said, her voice dripping with a bored contempt. "The hospital must have discharged you for being terminally dull."

Marcus didn't even look directly at him, addressing the air beside Ethan's head. "I suppose even charnel houses have visiting hours. Did you come to see where real work happens? A glimpse might be educational before you go back to your... whatever it is you do."

Ethan said nothing, attempting to step past.

Claire blocked his path slightly, not with force, but with presence. Her eyes, sharp and angry, fixed on him. "My sister told me about your little stunt. Calling her for money was pathetic. But touching her? You're lucky she only called me and not the police. You're a disease, Ethan, and you keep trying to spread."

"I didn't touch her," Ethan stated, his voice flat.

"You exist. That's offense enough," she snapped. "And showing up here? In your sad little costume?" She flicked a dismissive glance at his dark, minimalist clothes. "You look like you're applying to be a background mourner at a funeral. It's cheap. On every level."

Marcus let out a short, humorless laugh. "Darling, don't waste the oxygen. He's a ghost haunting his own life. He's not worth the seconds it takes to insult him." He placed a hand on Claire's arm, a gesture of ownership and dismissal. "We have a celebration to get to. Our new acquisition awaits."

They swept past him, not looking back. He was less than an afterthought, a stain on the sidewalk they'd briefly noticed and forgotten.

Ethan entered the quiet, understated lobby and took the elevator to the top floor. The boardroom smelled of old wood and older fear.

The chairman, Mr. Halbert, spoke for the group, his hands folded on the table. "Mr.... AK. We received your offer. It is aggressive. However, we have a handshake agreement with Hayes-Voss Holdings. They offered ten million. They felt it reflected the company's... current challenges."

"They undervalued it," Ethan said, his voice calm through the subtle digital filter. "I am offering fifteen. All cash. No contingencies. No joint committees. The wire can be initiated before I leave this room."

A murmur went around the table. Greed warred with fear.

"Ms. Hayes and Mr. Voss... they are powerful," a board member ventured. "To renege..."

"Are you running a business or a social club?" Ethan interrupted, his tone chillingly reasonable. "Your fiduciary duty is to your shareholders, not to the feelings of a tech founder and her fiancé. I am presenting a 50% premium for your loyalty. Their offer was an estimate. Mine is a conclusion."

The logic was a battering ram. The fear of Claire's retaliation was real, but the allure of an extra five million dollars, clean and immediate, was undeniable. The vote was not unanimous, but it was decisive.

Four hours later, in a private dining room at The Celeste, Claire's phone buzzed. Marcus's rang a second later. It was Mr. Halbert, his voice thick with practiced regret. "Claire, Marcus... a complication. A higher, all-cash offer materialized. The board had a fiduciary obligation... I'm deeply sorry."

Claire's celebration froze on her lips. "Who?" she demanded, her voice sharp.

"A private equity entity. AK Holdings. We know very little."

An hour after that, it was on the financial news ticker scrolling across the restaurant's discreet screen: "MYSTERY BUYER 'AK HOLDINGS' ACQUIRES LEGACY CORP IN LAST-MINUTE DEAL. HAYES-VOSS BID REPORTEDLY SURPASSED."

Claire stared at the screen, the champagne flute cold in her hand. A mystery buyer. A victorious, anonymous "Mr. AK" where her pathetic ex-husband had just been standing. The coincidence was a tiny, silent bomb going off in the back of her mind. It was absurd. Impossible. But the seed of doubt, poisonous and tiny, was now planted.

Ethan, now $50 million richer from the System's reward, didn't see the news. He was at a dealership, pointing at a car that looked like a shadow given speed. "That one." The Valkanheim Hyperion. **$12 million.** The wire transfer was quieter than a handshake.

From there, he drove to a newly constructed, secure compound in the hills. The smart-glass mansion was a fortress of silence. He toured seven of its twenty-three rooms. "I'll take it." Another wire. Another acquisition.

He stood now in the cavernous, empty living room of his sterile new mansion, the keys to a hypercar in his hand. He had a ghost's name, a corporation, brutal wealth, and a crushing, absolute solitude.

The System's message glowed in the twilight of the vast, empty space.

[TASK 4: COMPLETE.]

[REWARD CONFIRMED.]

[PHASE 1: FOUNDATION ESTABLISHED.]

[NEXT OBJECTIVE: OPERATIONAL INFRASTRUCTURE.]

The ghost had a house. The next step was to hire a living person to answer its phone.

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  • Chapter 8: The Higher Bid

    The migraine was a fading ghost. Ethan stood in the silent suite, the System’s final diagnosis [SOLO OPERATIVE CAPACITY - INADEQUATE.], etched in his mind. To move forward, he couldn't be Ethan Cross. He needed to be a rumor, a signature, a ghost with a bank account. Mr. AK. A ghost forged from a forgotten, mocking phrase of Claire's about "Ascendant Kings." His first act was a call. "Mr. AK's office" contacted the Legacy Corp board with a single, startling figure. No small talk. Just numbers. An hour later, he arrived at the Legacy Corp tower. As he reached for the door, it swung open from within. Claire and Marcus Voss walked out, their posture radiating the warm, satisfied aura of predators after a successful hunt. They saw him, and their expressions cooled into identical looks of distaste. "Well, look who's out and about," Claire said, her voice dripping with a bored contempt. "The hospital must have discharged you for being terminally dull." Marcus didn't even look directl

  • Chapter 7: The Millisecond

    The new clothes hung in the walk-in closet of the suite like a battalion of shadows. They felt like someone else’s skin. Ethan stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, the city’s grid laid out like a circuit board. The phantom ache from the visual distortion was gone, replaced by a new, anticipatory tension. The System was a coiled spring in his mind. [TASK 3: INITIATED.] [ASSET: CRYPTOCURRENCY 'NEXUS-CORE (NXC)' - LOW LIQUIDITY, HIGH VOLATILITY.] [PARAMETERS: ACQUIRE 450,000 NXC. TARGET SELL PRICE: $0.85.] [TIME WINDOW FOR ACQUISITION: 4 MINUTES. WINDOW FOR LIQUIDATION: 18 SECONDS.] [REWARD UPON SUCCESS: $15,000,000.00] [PENALTY FOR FAILURE: CEREBRAL OVERLOAD. 12-HOUR NEUROLOGICAL PAIN CYCLE.] Cerebral Overload. The words were colder than ‘migraine.’ It sounded like having his brain dipped in acid. The task was a sniper shot. Nexus-Core was a ghost of a token, trading at a sleepy $0.11. To hit the sell target, its value had to explode nearly eightfold in a window so tight h

  • Chapter 6: The Uniform of Mr. AK

    The visual distortion faded like a receding tide, leaving behind a phantom ache behind Ethan’s eyes and a crystalline clarity in his mind. The System’s punishment was a lesson written in neural fire: precision mattered. Time was a weapon you either wielded or were wounded by. He stood in the immaculate, silent expanse of the Imperial Suite. The silence was oppressive. The only artifacts of his existence were the data stick on the marble console and the pile of reeking clothes on the bathroom floor, the khakis and scorched shirt that had absorbed the river, the hospital, the sweat of his desperate run. They were the uniform of Ethan Cross, the ghost. To build something new, he needed a new skin. The decision was logistical, not aspirational. He needed a uniform for Mr. AK. He called the concierge. “I need a car to take me to the most exclusive retail district. Not a boutique. A destination.” “The Galleria at Monarch Heights, sir. It is… particular about its clientele.” “Perfect,”

  • Chapter 5: The Clock and The Parade

    Ethan woke to the sound of a diamond-edged chime in his skull. Light from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Imperial Suite stabbed his eyes. He’d slept a dead, dreamless sleep for ten hours. As consciousness returned, so did the blue, glowing text burned against the back of his eyelids. [TASK 2: ACQUIRE PRIVATE EQUITY STAKE - ‘VENTURE DYNAMICS, SERIES B’ - 85,000 SHARES.] [TIME LIMIT: 10 HOURS.] [REWARD UPON SUCCESS: $20,000,000.00] [PENALTY FOR FAILURE: OCCIPITAL NEURAL LOCK. PERMANENT 50% VISUAL FIELD REDUCTION.] The message had been sent 7 hours and 14 minutes ago. [TIME REMAINING: 2 HOURS, 46 MINUTES.] A jolt of pure adrenaline burned through the last of his grogginess. The System hadn’t waited. It didn’t care. It had issued a command, and the clock had started ticking while he drowned in sleep.[Failure to complete task: Permanent 50% vision reduction.] Not death. Something worse. A lifetime of half-sight, a living disability forged by his own failure. The cold precis

  • Chapter 4: The Emperor's Suite

    The city air tasted of exhaust and rain, but to Ethan, it was the taste of freedom. A grim, expensive freedom. He stood on the sidewalk, the hospital a concrete tomb behind him. The System’s final message from the car glowed in his mind: [HOST PSYCHOLOGICAL STATE: STABILIZED.] As he walked, a subtle warmth spread through his chest where the seatbelt bruise had been a dull agony. The raw ache in his throat from the river water faded to a memory. It wasn't miraculous healing; it was a targeted, efficient repair. [MINOR PHYSICAL TRAUMA MITIGATED. EFFICIENCY PRESERVED.] the System noted, coldly clinical. Another task was being prepared. He had no car. His Civic was at the bottom of the Clearwater. He had no home. The studio apartment was another life. He had a destination. The Aethelstan Hotel. It wasn't just expensive; it was a monument to wealth, a 80-story glass spire where the lobby had more marble than a cathedral. He’d once walked past it with Claire, who’d pointed and said, “T

  • Chapter 3: The Desperation Calls

    The numbers hung in the air, cold and absolute, superimposed over the reality of his hospital room. A ghostly interface, impossibly crisp, burned itself onto his vision.WEALTH ASCENSION SYSTEM ONLINEUser: Ethan CrossStatus: RECALIBRATING... HOST VITALITY CRITICALMandate: Capital is the only truth. Ascend.TASK 1: SETTLE OUTSTANDING DEBT OF $864,329.18.****TIME LIMIT: 4 HOURS.****REWARD UPON SUCCESS: $5,000,000.00PENALTY FOR FAILURE: PERMANENT SYSTEM DEACTIVATION.No. A stress induced hallucination. A final, cruel joke from his oxygen starved brain. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted to three. The blue text remained, pulsing faintly like a dying star. Five million. It was an answer to a prayer he hadn’t dared to utter. But the first, impossible step was a cliff he had to scale alone.A wild, impossible hope, thin and sharp as a shard of glass, pricked the numbness in his chest. What if…? He immediately crushed it. It was madness. But the clock was real. The debt was real. And a

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