Abigail "Abby" Carter spotted Ethan strolling up and waved like she was flagging down a parade float. "Hey, lover boy! Over here!" She grinned, clearly up to no good. "You've met, but let's do the formal thing anyway."
Ethan ambled over, and Abby launched into intros like a hype man at a rap battle. "This is Sophia Winters—my bestie, classmate, and Westfield's reigning queen. She's drop-dead gorgeous, makes angels jealous, basically a walking Instagram filter…" She piled on the praise until Sophia's icy facade cracked, her cheeks turning pink. "Okay, Abby, chill," she muttered.
"And this," Abby beamed, slinging an arm around Ethan, "is my cousin Ethan Black. Total stud, charm for days, basically the family jackpot." She was laying it on thick—normally she'd roast him for leaving socks everywhere, but today? She was selling him like a used car lot's prize ride.
Ethan and Sophia exchanged awkward nods. Truth was, Sophia got dragged here too. Abby had pitched it as a post-lunch waddle—"I ate too many fries, let's burn it off!"—and Sophia, with her short friend list, didn't argue. She hadn't banked on Ethan crashing the party, and now that morning's water delivery replayed in her head, tinting her face redder.
"Let's show the newbie around," Abby chirped, leading the trio down campus paths. Lunch hour meant bustling crowds, and even with Abby as a buffer, Sophia walking with a guy—any guy—turned heads. The Ice Queen and a freshman? Gossip fuel, ignited.
Then a skinny, pale dude strutted their way—Liam Anderson, Sophia's die-hard fanboy. He clocked Sophia and Ethan together and froze mid-step, eyes popping like a cartoon character. Rage simmered in his chest. He'd scoffed at the forum posts—Sophia fetching water for some rando? Pfft, fake news, Photoshop nonsense. But now? Live and in HD, here she was with the punk.
Liam's fists clenched. He wanted to storm over and demand, "Who's this clown?!" But Sophia's glare could melt steel, and he wasn't dumb enough to blow it in front of her. Brain spinning, he hatched a plan and sauntered up, all smiles.
"Hey, Sophia!" he purred, oozing charm. "And Abby, long time no see!"
"Sup, Liam," Abby said, eyeing him. Sophia just nodded, cool as ever.
"And this guy?" Liam asked, pointing at Ethan like he was a stray dog.
"My cousin, Ethan," Abby replied.
Cousin? Liam exhaled a tiny bit. Less competition—maybe. But that water stunt still stung, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan. He gave a half-hearted nod, then pivoted to Sophia, dialing up the schmooze.
"Where you headed?" Abby asked, noting his trajectory.
"Just got back from off-campus," Liam said, casual as a billionaire dropping pocket change. "Dorms suck, so I grabbed a place nearby."
"A place?" Abby blinked. "Like, you bought a house?"
Buying property as a student was wild—most grads couldn't even afford a couch. Liam grinned, smelling his moment. "Yeah, no biggie. Just a 2,500-square-foot duplex. Nothing fancy."
Sophia's brows twitched—rare for her. Westfield's housing market wasn't cheap; at $3,000 a square foot, that duplex clocked in at $7.5 million, easy. A sophomore with that kind of cash? Liam was flexing harder than a gym bro on Instagram.
"How much?" Abby pressed, hooked.
"Eh, $7.8 million," Liam shrugged. "Fully renovated. Still furnishing it—gonna be sweet. You're all welcome to swing by! Plenty of room."
Sophia and Abby politely dodged. "Maybe later," Abby said. They barely knew Liam—his invite screamed "thirst trap."
"C'mon, don't be shy!" Liam pushed. "I'll throw a party, invite the crew." He smirked at Ethan. "Even this little guy can tag along. It's a solid starter home—wedding vibes, you know? You should grab one nearby, dude. Only $7.8 mil. No sweat."
He leaned in, voice dripping with condescension. "Can't swing full cash like me? No prob—just take a 30-year loan. You'll pay it off by, what, your kid's college years? Easy peasy."
Liam's chest puffed. He'd dropped $7.8 million like it was lunch money—total baller move. Ethan? Probably couldn't scrape up a down payment if he sold his soul on eBay. Checkmate, newbie, Liam thought. Sophia'd see who the real man was. No cash, no chance—sorry, kid.
But mid-flex, a suit-clad middle-aged guy marched up, all business. "Excuse me," he said, scanning the group. "Which one of you is Ethan Black? Mr. Black?"
All eyes swiveled to Ethan. "That's me," he said, stepping forward.
"Mr. Black, pleasure," the man beamed. "I'm from SkyHigh Estates—the rep you spoke with. Got your Villa #8 contracts here. Sign these, and we're golden."
Ethan grabbed a pen and scribbled away while the group gaped. SkyHigh Estates? That was Westfield's ritziest enclave—villas started at $3 million, and the top dogs hit $5 million. Liam's smirk vanished faster than free pizza at a frat party.
"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Black," the rep said, handing over a sleek key fob. "Here's your access—enjoy the place." He bowed slightly and hustled off.
Abby pounced first. "Ethan, what the hell?!"
"Oh, that?" Ethan said, pocketing the keys like it was spare change. "Just bought a villa. No biggie."
The group's jaws hit the pavement. A villa? From SkyHigh Estates? For a freshman? Liam's $7.8 million duplex suddenly felt like a cardboard box. Ethan's game purchase—$0.30 for a $5 million pad—was his little secret, but "bought" wasn't a lie.
"Hold up," Abby sputtered. "You bought a SkyHigh villa? Like, with walls and a roof and everything?"
"Yeah," Ethan grinned. "Got a pool too. Wanna swim?"
Liam choked on his own spit. Sophia's eyes widened a fraction—her biggest reaction all day. Ethan wasn't just some cousin—he was a freakin' mogul.
Then his phone buzzed:
[Auto-Purchase Detected: Corporate Jet, $3.00]
[Next Suggested Item: Tech Startup, $5.00]
[Warning: Reality's Warping. Heads Up!]
Across the street, that black SUV from last chapter rolled closer, engine rumbling. Ethan's grin faltered. "Corporate jet? Now?" he muttered. The game was flexing harder than Liam—and it wasn't slowing down.