The Mercedes-Benz GLE slid through the city like a silent predator, its engine purring beneath the hood, headlights cutting a path through the glittering night. Skyscrapers loomed overhead, glass walls reflecting neon signs and digital billboards. The city never slept—it pulsed, alive with laughter, music, and the steady hum of traffic.
Inside the cabin, silence lingered. Ethan's hands gripped the wheel, his posture sharp in the tailored suit that clung to him like armor. The watch on his wrist caught the glow of passing lights, each reflection a reminder of the money he'd spent only hours ago.
Beside him, Mary sat with effortless grace, her body angled slightly toward the window, though the scent of her perfume filled the enclosed space. The low neckline of her midnight dress revealed the delicate line of her collarbone, and the shimmer of silk traced the curve of her legs where the slit in the fabric fell open. She didn't fidget, didn't shift, didn't seem to notice the weight of Ethan's presence beside her. She simply existed, commanding the space without trying.
Ethan tried not to glance at her too often, but his eyes betrayed him once or twice, darting sideways. Each time, he caught himself and forced his gaze back to the road.
It wasn't nerves, exactly. It was the strangeness of it all. Hours ago, he had been a student finishing an exam, hungry and anxious about tomorrow. Now, he was driving a luxury car with a woman who looked like she had stepped out of another world, on his way to a party in a place he had no right to enter.
By the time the Mercedes turned into the gated district of luxury penthouses, Ethan's chest felt tight.
The penthouse came into view, and his breath caught.
The building itself towered above the skyline, but the top floor—Mary's destination—glowed brighter than the rest. Wide glass windows spilled golden light into the night, revealing silhouettes moving inside. The driveway was crowded with cars, each one a statement of wealth and power.
Ethan slowed, steering the GLE carefully through the line of vehicles. His eyes scanned the row, and each sight was like a blow.
A Lamborghini Aventador, gleaming in matte black. A Porsche 911, its curves seductive under the light. A Rolls Royce, its presence so commanding it seemed to sneer at everything around it. Even the "cheapest" car in sight—a Toyota Camry—was the 2025 model, polished to perfection.
His throat tightened. He felt like an intruder.
He parked where the valet directed, his fingers lingering on the steering wheel. His first instinct was to stay here, to let Mary step out alone, to wait in the car until the night was over. He didn't belong inside.
But Mary turned, her eyes settling on him. She didn't ask. She didn't need to. Her gaze was quiet, commanding.
"Come with me."
It wasn't a request.
Ethan nodded, his throat dry. He stepped out, circling the car to join her as she ascended the steps. The heels of her shoes clicked against the polished stone, her dress flowing with each step. Ethan followed, his polished shoes echoing faintly behind hers.
The doors opened, and sound poured out.
Inside, the penthouse was another world.
Music thudded through the air, low but insistent, vibrating in his chest. Clusters of young men and women filled the space, laughing, drinking, their voices rising in crescendos of wealth and confidence. Crystal chandeliers hung above, scattering light across marble floors and glass walls. Servers in black suits moved discreetly among the crowd, trays of champagne glasses balanced on their palms.
Ethan's eyes swept the room.
To one side, men in tailored suits lounged around a poker table, stacks of chips glinting in the light. The casual way they tossed in bills—stacks that could have covered his family's rent for months—made his stomach twist.
At the bar, young women clinked glasses, sipping wine that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe. On the balcony, laughter rose as a group watched fireworks explode in the distance, paid for simply because someone felt like it.
And upstairs… Ethan's gaze flicked up, catching movement behind the glass walls of the upper floor. He swallowed, heat rising to his ears. Whatever was happening there was no longer the kind of gathering one described aloud.
It was indulgence. It was wealth stripped bare.
Mary leaned close, her perfume brushing against his senses. "I'll find my friends. Try not to look too lost."
Her words were teasing, though her tone remained calm. She drifted away, absorbed into the sea of glittering gowns and sharp suits. Heads turned as she passed, drawn by her beauty, her presence.
Ethan stood for a moment, anchored by nerves. Then, to his surprise, someone clapped him on the back.
"New face," a man's voice said, smooth but friendly. "Haven't seen you here before."
Ethan turned. The man before him was tall, broad-shouldered, his blond hair slicked back with precision. His suit was immaculate, his watch flashing with diamonds. His smile was wide, confident in the way only money could make it.
"I'm Victor," the man said, extending a hand. "Victor Kensington. My family runs one of the largest companies in America. Who are you?"
Ethan hesitated, then took the hand firmly. "Ethan," he said. He didn't add more.
Victor laughed, not offended by the brevity. "Good to meet you, Ethan. Come, have a drink."
A glass was pressed into Ethan's hand, filled with amber liquid. He sniffed it, then set it back on the bar. "I'm driving tonight," he said, voice even.
Victor arched a brow, then chuckled. "Responsible. I like that."
They moved to a table where several young men were betting on dice, cards, anything that could burn through money fast. Victor leaned in, grinning. "You play?"
Ethan hesitated. Gambling was foolish—dangerous. But then he thought of the eighty thousand still sitting in his system balance, money that didn't feel real, money born from nothing but glowing cards. If he was to fit in, if he was to survive in this world, maybe risk was the only way forward.
He nodded once. "I play."
The night blurred into rounds of betting, laughter, the clink of chips and the flick of cards. To Ethan's surprise, the men welcomed him warmly. Perhaps it was his suit, his watch, the way he carried himself now. Perhaps appearances mattered more than bloodlines in moments like these.
Victor, though confident, was terrible at the games. His bets faltered, his bluffs transparent. Ethan, cautious but steady, played with quiet precision. And somehow, impossibly, he kept winning.
Stacks of chips grew before him. Numbers ticked higher on his balance. Each round pulled him deeper into the surreal haze of wealth, into a world where eighty thousand was pocket change and five times that could be won in a handful of dice throws.
By the time Ethan leaned back, his pulse steady, his balance had multiplied. From eighty thousand to four hundred thousand.
Victor laughed, shaking his head, raising his glass. "You're good, Ethan. Damn good. I'll have to keep an eye on you."
Ethan managed a smile, though inside his thoughts raced.
The system had brought him here. The mission had dragged him into this party. And already, his life was changing in ways he couldn't have imagined.