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Inside the precinct, Alex looked across at Dale Sterling and nearly burst out laughing. "Dude, Jake—you really did a number on him. His own mother wouldn't recognize that face."
Dale's face was swollen like a balloon, lips split and bleeding, hair sticking up in every direction. He looked like he'd been hit by a truck, then reversed over for good measure.
The funniest part? The distinctive tread pattern from Morgan's sneaker sole was clearly imprinted on his cheek—raised welts forming a pattern that looked almost deliberate in its placement.
"If the cops hadn't shown up so fast, I would've made sure he couldn't talk for a month," Jake said, still radiating anger. He genuinely hated Dale Sterling.
"That was therapeutic as hell," Danny agreed, grinning. "Been too long since we had a proper brawl."
"What are you three whispering about?" the officer supervising them asked, exasperated. "You're all successful businesspeople now. Why are you acting like teenagers getting into street fights? Aren't you embarrassed?"
"We're not that old, officer. We're only twenty-one," Danny pointed out.
"Twenty-one is still an adult. Adults solve problems like adults. You have issues with someone? You come to the police. You don't settle things with your fists!"
"Some problems can only be solved with fists," Jake said flatly.
"Excuse me, are you trying to make this worse for yourselves?" The officer's expression hardened.
"Officer, this wasn't our fault. Dale over there deliberately provoked us. We were just eating dinner—"
"Mmph mph waah!" Dale tried to say something, but his swollen lips made it completely unintelligible.
"Alright, everyone stop. I don't care whose fault it started. Fighting is wrong, period. And look at him—what you did could constitute assault and battery!"
"We're injured too! Internal injuries!" Danny continued arguing. None of them were particularly worried—fights like this between wealthy kids rarely resulted in serious charges.
"WHERE'S MY SON?!"
A shrill voice cut through the station as Margaret Sterling burst through the entrance like an avenging fury. "Where is he? Dale! DALE!"
Her eyes swept the holding area, passing right over Dale at first. It wasn't until Dale made a pathetic whimpering sound that she actually recognized him.
He really was beaten that badly.
Margaret exploded. "WHO DID THIS? Was it you degenerates AGAIN? I'm suing all of you! You're going to PRISON!"
She turned on Alex, Danny, and Jake like a rabid dog, her voice getting louder and shriller with each word.
"Jesus, like mother like son," Alex muttered.
"What did you say, you little punk? How DARE you—Officer, did you hear—"
"ENOUGH!" The supervising officer shouted, finally losing his patience. "Are we solving this problem or not?!"
"Mrs. Sterling." Morgan stood up, her voice calm and cold. "I'm the one who kicked your son in the face. Multiple times. You want to sue someone? Sue me. But maybe you should teach Dale to keep his mouth shut instead of running it constantly. Might save him some dental work in the future."
Margaret Sterling's rage cut off mid-breath. She stared at Morgan for a long, frozen moment. Then her expression shifted completely—the fury draining away, replaced by something that looked uncomfortably like fear.
"Morgan," she said finally, forcing a stiff, painful smile. "You're... back from school. How lovely."
The sudden 180-degree personality shift made Alex, Jake, and Danny's jaws drop. They exchanged looks that screamed what the hell just happened?
This was Margaret Sterling—one of the most arrogant, status-obsessed socialites in New York. She bulldozed over people, threw her family name around like a weapon, and showed deference to basically nobody.
Morgan's family wasn't even particularly wealthy. Sure, her aunt had married into the Worthington family, which gave her some connections, but that alone shouldn't make Margaret fucking Sterling cower like a scolded child.
One second she was ready to murder everyone. The next she was practically bowing.
Alex, Jake, and Danny all stared at Morgan with identical expressions: What dirt do you have on this woman?
Under Morgan's unexplained authority, Margaret Sterling meekly agreed to a settlement. Both parties paid fines. The officers gave everyone a stern warning about assault charges and sent them on their way.
This kind of thing happened constantly—rich kids getting into fights, everyone having influential parents, nobody wanting the headache of actual prosecution. Easier to slap them with fines and move on.
Back in the Sterling Car
"Oh baby, does it hurt? Let Mommy see. How could they hit you so hard..." Margaret examined Dale's injuries with exaggerated concern.
"Mom, I'm fine. Doesn't hurt," Dale lied, then immediately winced. "Jake looks worse. All internal injuries. I definitely got the better of him. Ow—"
"Don't talk, sweetheart. Oh god, your face is so swollen. That awful Morgan girl—why would she use her feet in a fight? So unladylike!"
"I wasn't ready! Who kicks someone in a fight? That's cheating! I was just caught off guard, couldn't dodge in time—"
After leaving the station, Morgan suggested they go back to the crawfish restaurant and finish their meal. No point letting Dale Sterling ruin their entire night.
Before they left the restaurant the second time, they paid the owner an extra thousand dollars for damages—broken furniture, disruption to other customers, general chaos. The owner hadn't asked for compensation, but they paid anyway. The guy was innocent in all this.
Then they hit a club and partied until 3 AM before finally calling it a night.
The Next Evening – JND48 Showcase, Manhattan Theater
The venue was packed wall-to-wall. Danny's idol group had serious buzz.
After months of training, these girls who'd started as awkward amateurs were delivering surprisingly polished performances. They weren't professional-level yet—not even close to established pop groups—but their youthful energy was genuinely infectious. The choreography was tight, the vocals were improving, and they radiated that raw enthusiasm that made audiences feel good just watching.
The showcase included fan interaction segments that had the crowd losing their minds—photo ops, brief conversations, the chance to actually talk to their favorite members. For fans, this was literally a dream come true.
Alex, Jake, and Morgan sat in their VIP section, watching the performance with genuine interest.
"They're actually pretty good," Morgan admitted.
"Right? Danny's really building something here," Alex agreed.
The first public showcase was a massive success. The crowd response was overwhelmingly positive, and Danny's marketing team immediately capitalized on the momentum—social media campaigns, video highlights, targeted advertising. JND48's fanbase exploded overnight.
These bright, energetic young women were entering the mainstream consciousness, attracting attention from media outlets and entertainment companies.
Watching JND48 develop exactly as he'd envisioned, Alex felt confident in Danny's business instincts. This partnership was going to pay off in the future—tons of collaboration opportunities between the idol group and Stormwind's content.
Alex threw himself back into work. Iron Man and Super Soldier were both in active production now, and he was constantly on set to oversee crucial scenes and ensure certain details matched his vision.
He needed these films to feel authentic, to capture what made the original Iron Man special in his previous life.
Danny was swamped too, now that his idol group was gaining traction. Management, training schedules, booking appearances—the business side was exploding.
Jake was busier than ever as well. With Infinite Realms' racing championship ramping up, his streaming career was taking off. He was getting invited to commentate on official qualifier events, building his brand as one of the top racing content creators.
The trust fund kid who'd refused to work for his father was somehow becoming a legitimate esports personality.
But beneath the surface excitement, something wasn't quite right with Infinite Realms' racing initiative.
The Global Racing Championship looked impressive on paper—big prize pools, professional production, mainstream marketing push. It should have been a massive success.
But the numbers weren't matching expectations.
Player engagement was lower than projected. Racing content consumption wasn't spiking the way corporate had predicted. The market just... wasn't responding as enthusiastically as everyone thought it would.
The racing genre boom that Fast & Furious had created was already cooling off faster than anticipated. Market saturation was hitting hard—too many mediocre racing games flooding the marketplace, diluting player attention and enthusiasm.
Infinite Realms had invested heavily in this racing ecosystem, banking on sustained growth.
But the return on investment was looking increasingly uncertain.