Chapter 130: The Huracàn Effect And Temptation

Stan hit the gym early.

He kept the session to forty minutes, working around the bandaged hand with a routine focused on legs, core, and sustained cardio, the kind that burned cleanly and left behind a steady, grounded energy instead of exhaustion.

Afterward, he showered, changed, made coffee, and settled at the kitchen counter with his phone.

Out of mild curiosity, the same kind that had led him to check the system’s protection the other night, he opened his browser and searched his own name.

He found the video within thirty seconds.

Someone had recorded his Lamborghini Huracán pulling into Peak University’s parking area. The clip began from a distance before zooming in shakily as Stan stepped out of the car. The footage was clearly phone-shot, unstable and grainy in places, but the Huracán was unmistakable.

Apparently, so was he.

Whoever uploaded it had added just enough contextual information about Peak University for the algorithm to take over from there.

Three hundred thousand views.

The comments ranged from genuine disbelief,

A student owns a Huracán?

to the kind of speculative nonsense campus rumor ecosystems inevitably produced whenever information spread faster than context.

At least the reaction was mostly positive, which Stan supposed was progress compared to the defamation campaign from a week ago.

He scrolled further.

Several entertainment and lifestyle accounts had already reposted the video. His name appeared in post after post, almost always attached to Sophie Youngs and Maya, because online content mills were apparently biologically incapable of ignoring attractive women and unexplained wealth when they appeared in the same sentence.

Peak University’s mystery tycoon.

The man connected to all five campus beauties.

Who IS Stan Harrison?

Stan turned the phone face-down on the counter and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

This was the inevitable consequence of spending two hundred million dollars on a livestream, driving a matte-black supercar onto a university campus, and living through a week of events that had apparently been observed, recorded, and discussed by seventy percent of the student body.

He had maintained a low profile for as long as circumstances allowed.

Circumstances had clearly stopped cooperating.

Stan didn’t particularly enjoy being a topic. He disliked the attention, the speculation, the way ordinary movements would now be treated as events worth documenting. But he was practical enough to understand reality when it presented itself.

There was no reclaiming the anonymity he’d possessed a week ago.

That ship hadn’t merely sailed. It was somewhere beyond the horizon by now, entirely unmoved by nostalgia or preference.

And there was nothing he could realistically do about it.

So he shrugged, exhaled slowly, finished his coffee, and began preparing for his meeting with Vivian Reeves at noon.

Some problems had solutions. Others were just like weather. You acknowledged them, adjusted your coat, and kept moving.

Stan made the call before he finished his second coffee.

The Wanhai Grand’s HYTV suite line connected on the second ring, and he kept the instructions brief: a private meeting room, properly prepared, two settings, noon.

The kind of setup that communicated professional seriousness without unnecessary formality. Not a boardroom and not a restaurant. Somewhere in between, where a business conversation could happen without either party feeling like they were being interrogated or entertained.

The duty manager confirmed the arrangement with the particular efficiency that Wanhai staff reserved for calls from that specific name. Everything would be ready by eleven forty-five.

Stan set the phone down and checked the time.

He had a comfortable window before noon, enough to arrive early, orient himself in the space, and be settled when Vivian arrived. First impressions in a meeting ran in both directions, and there was a specific kind of authority that came from already being seated when the other person walked in.

After that, Maya’s excursion.

She’d booked it without asking him, signed him up without his consent, and called it settled before he’d managed to form an objection. Which meant his afternoon was structured whether he’d planned it that way or not. He had to respect, in a grudging and mildly amused way, the efficiency of the approach.

Vivian at noon. Maya after.

He reached for his jacket, checked his bandaged hand, Sophie’s neat dressing still holding cleanly, and headed for the door.

Not long after, Stan stepped into the private meeting room at Wanhai Grand exactly at noon, only to find Vivian Reeves already seated at the long table.

He paused for half a second.

She had chosen an outfit that had no business being in a professional setting. A sleek, charcoal-black dress clung to her body like liquid silk.

The neckline plunged dangerously low, a deep V that barely contained her full breasts. With every subtle shift of her posture, the soft, pale swell of her milky cleavage spilled forward, catching the warm light and giving off a faint, lustrous sheen. The fabric was thin enough that the smooth upper curves of her tits were clearly visible, almost glowing under the room’s recessed lighting.

The dress hugged her narrow waist before flaring over wide, fertile hips. A high slit ran up the side, revealing the smooth, toned expanse of her thighs, thick, creamy, and deliberately crossed in a way that made the fabric ride even higher. Her long legs were bare, the hem barely covering the lower curve of her ass when she sat. She looked less like an executive fighting to save her position and more like a high-end escort who had decided the meeting was her runway.

[Reference Image...]

Stan’s jaw tightened.

’What the fuck is she planning? Is she trying to seduce me?’

"You came earlier than I expected," he said, voice cold and level as he closed the door behind him. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Vivian rose slightly, then bowed with exaggerated deference, forcing a sweet, submissive smile onto her painted lips. "Yes, Sir Stan. I made sure to prepare thoroughly and arrive ahead of the time you proposed. How could I dare to show up late before my superior?"

"It’s good you know that. You seem to be becoming smarter after your apology," Stan scoffed, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down with deliberate calm.

Despite the visible effort she was making, Stan had no intention of making this easy. He leaned back, eyes cool. "So tell me, how do you plan to make yourself useful?"