The drive from the charity event was a silent one. Beside Alex, Anna Brodick sat with her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the passing city lights. She hadn’t said much since they left the gallery, and Alex wasn’t in the mood to offer any sort of explanations. His jaw throbbed with every heartbeat, a dull, rhythmic reminder of the strength behind Jake’s fist.

After dropping Anna at the Brodick estate with a curt "Get some rest," Alex headed to the Livingston estate. When he arrived, he didn’t head to his room. Instead, he made his way to the west wing of the mansion, toward the heavy mahogany doors of his father’s study.

He pushed the doors open without knocking. His father, Arthur Livingston, sat behind a desk cluttered with physical ledgers—a habit of the old guard who didn’t fully trust the cloud. Arthur looked up, his brow furrowing as he took in his son’s disheveled appearance and the dark bruising beginning to bloom along his jawline.

"I heard the auction was... eventful," Arthur said, his voice a low gravel. He didn’t stand up, but his sharp eyes tracked the way Alex moved—stiff, purposeful, and devoid of his usual casual swagger.

Alex pulled out the chair across from his father and sat, leaning forward into the pool of light cast by the desk lamp. He ignored the pain in his face. "From now on, I’m at the forefront of all our operations. Every deal, every board meeting, every merger. I want it all on my desk."

Marcus leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking. He studied his son for a long moment, noting the cold intensity in Alex’s gaze. It was a look he hadn’t seen in years—not since Alex was a hungry student trying to prove his worth.

"You’ve spent the last four or five years treating the family name like an unlimited credit card for your social life," Marcus noted, his tone neutral but challenging. "What brought about this sudden epiphany? Was it the punch, which I assume is what happened to your jaw. Or the fact that Jake Rivers is currently the talk of Veyra?"

Alex’s hand tightened into a fist on the desk. ’It’s about control,’ he thought. ’And you guys wanted to use me for your own benefit with an arranged marriage.’

"I’m done playing," Alex said, his voice dropping an octave. "If I want to be in a position where I can dictate terms instead of reacting to them, the business needs to reach a level where we aren’t just ’players’—we’re the house. I want to take us to that level. A level were no one can overlook us."

Arthur didn’t ask for clarification on what Alex meant by "dictating terms," but he saw the shift in his son’s body language. The boy who walked in was gone; a man with a vendetta had taken his place.

"And Jake?" Arthur asked, watching for a reaction. "Will you be leaning on your friend for this ’expansion’?"

Alex’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening until the bruise screamed in protest. "No. This isn’t a partnership. I’m going to earn my place in the top circles of Veyra through sheer weight of result. I’m not like some people who just got lucky with an inheritance and a golden spoon."

He spat the word ’lucky’ like it was poison. In his mind, Jake hadn’t earned his seat; he’d simply stepped into a dead man’s shoes.

Arthur let out a slow breath, a small, calculating smile playing on his lips. "Fine. If you’re serious, I’ll give you a chance to prove it. The merger with the Brodick family. It’s your wedding so you might as well oversee the entire thing. It’s messy, it’s political, and it requires a killer instinct. It’s yours."

Alex stood up, his height casting a long shadow across the room. He didn’t thank his father. He simply turned toward the door. "Sit back and watch, Dad. I’m going to take this family to heights the Rivers couldn’t even dream of."

"Don’t disappoint me." Arthur added as Alex walked through the door.

---

The city of Veyra was a grid of flickering amber lights beneath the midnight sky as the Audi R8 pulled into the underground sanctuary of the Zenith. The engine’s low thrum cut out, leaving the garage in a sudden, ringing silence. Elias stepped out and held the door, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Rest well, Mr. Rivers," Elias said, a slight nod of acknowledgment toward Jake’s bandaged hand. "The team will be on rotation through the night."

"Thanks, Elias. See you in the morning," Jake replied, his voice heavy with the fatigue of a dozen battles fought in a single evening. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

He took the private elevator straight to the penthouse. The soft ’ding’ of the doors opening revealed the Zenith exactly as he had left it—pristine, silent, and bathed in the cold moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Jake headed straight for the primary suite. He stripped off the tailored suit jacket—which now felt like a suit of armor he was finally allowed to shed—and tossed it onto a chair. In the bathroom, he stood before the mirror, his reflection looking back with eyes that seemed years older than they were a week ago.

He peeled back the bandages Catharine had applied. The knuckles on his right hand were a deep, angry plum color. He ran them under cold water, the chill numbing the throb. As the rainfall shower beat down on him, he felt the "predator" persona—the billionaire who had just humiliated Julian Sterling—begin to wash away. Underneath the steam and the expensive soap, he was just a man trying to protect what was left of his family.

After the shower, his stomach let out a low growl. He realized he hadn’t eaten anything solid since the afternoon as he only had some fruit at the gallery. He wandered into the kitchen, the marble floors cool under his bare feet. He didn’t want a five-course meal; he wanted something grounded. He settled for a bowl of cereal and a cold glass of milk, sitting at the kitchen island in nothing but his joggers.

The simplicity of the meal felt surreal. Here he was, in a penthouse worth more than most people would see in a lifetime, eating like a college student.

His mind drifted to the evening’s events. ’I really am a billionaire now huh,’ he thought, swirling the spoon in the milk. ’I’m actually a billionaire.’ The realization hit him differently tonight. It wasn’t just about the numbers in a bank account anymore; it was about the moves he could make. He had shaken a titan like Sterling. He was playing a game where the stakes were measured in lives and legacies.

He walked over to his office desk and flipped open his laptop. He didn’t open the Gold charts; it was the weekend, and the markets were sleeping. He wanted to check his "honest" work.

GuardianEye (GEYE): Jake leaned in, his eyes scanning the price action. The consolidation phase he had spotted at $45 had indeed shattered. The news of the Veyra expansion had leaked early to institutional players, and the stock had caught fire. It was currently trading at $51.75.

Profit: 15%. On a 1.2 million VM position, that was a massive realized gain in a short window.

Lithium Dynamics (LTD): This chart was less exciting. The price was hovering almost exactly where he had bought it. The market was still blind to the impending supply deficit.

Jake leaned back in his chair, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face.

’I did that,’ he thought. ’No supernatural instinct. Just research, patience, and a bit of well-timed information.’

Knowing he had a growing foundation of over 2.5 million VM (counting the gains) working for him in the background gave him a sense of security that even the Meridian Group’s prestige couldn’t match. It was his safety net. If everything else crumbled—if Sterling found a way to freeze his inheritance or if the "Gold" ability vanished tomorrow—this was the floor he had built with his own mind.

He closed the laptop and picked up his phone. It was 23:40

His thumb hovered over Aliya’s contact. He wanted to hear her voice, to check up on her and how she’s settling at the new apartment. But as he looked at the time, he stopped. If she was finally sleeping, he didn’t want to wake her. And if he heard her voice, he wasn’t sure he could keep his own from breaking. The weight of what Alex had done to her was still a raw, jagged edge in his chest.

"Tomorrow," he whispered to the empty office. "I’ll just call her tomorrow."

He set the phone on the nightstand and climbed into the expansive bed. As he closed his eyes, the image of the auction gavel and Sterling’s purple face faded, replaced by the quiet, steady rhythm of the city below. He had a little over 24 hours until Monday morning. He needed every second of sleep he could get.

---