Adam Goldbourne had everything.
A last name that came with gold. A billion-dollar family business. A father who once called him "my greatest creation." And, let's not forget, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.
Yes, life was sweet.
Until it wasn't.
"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER!"
His father's voice echoed like thunder through the marble halls of the Goldbourne estate. The man's face was red, veins bulging on his forehead.
Adam stood there, stunned.
"I didn't… I swear I didn't!" he said, eyes wide, heart pounding.
Beside him, his stepsister Lisa cried into her mother's arms. Her makeup was smeared, like she had been crying for a while.
"He tried to force himself on me, Daddy!" Lisa sobbed, burying her face in her mother's boobs.
Lena—the stepmother from hell and owner of lips permanently puckered like she was always sucking on something—looked horrified. "I always knew there was something wrong with him. The way he looked at Lisa. Disgusting."
Adam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?! That's insane! She came into my room! She—"
SLAP!
The sound cracked through the room. His father's hand burned against his cheek.
"Enough! I won't have a predator living under my roof!" the old man roared.
"Dad, it's not true! She—She framed me!"
But his words fell on deaf ears. His father turned around and pointed toward the door like a dramatic movie villain.
"You are no longer my son. Get out."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Adam just stood there, breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But the rage in his father's eyes told him this was no bluff. This was real.
And just like that, Adam Goldbourne, heir to one of the richest families in the country, was kicked out with nothing but his phone, wallet, and the clothes that he was already wearing.
No suitcase. No apology. No goodbye.
Just a door slamming shut behind him.
Three Hours Later
It was raining. Because of course it was. The universe had a sense of humor.
Adam sat on a park bench, soaked like a depressed cat, still trying to process what had just happened. He had no plan, no money, and nowhere to go.
His designer shirt clung to his skin. His phone had died. And his shoes—$1,500 Italian leather—were now covered in mud.
Every minute that passed made everything feel more real.
He replayed it over and over in his head. Lisa's fake sobs. Lena's smug little smirk. His father's hand across his face. The betrayal still echoed louder than the thunder above him.
He looked down at his reflection in a puddle—ruined hair, swollen cheek, eyes puffy from tears he hadn't realized he'd shed.
What was he supposed to do now?
A group of drunk guys passed by, laughing loudly as they stumbled down the sidewalk. One of them stopped, tilted his head, and said, "Damn, you're pretty. Like, too pretty."
"Uh, thanks?" Adam replied, confused, his voice hoarse from hours of silence.
The guy frowned. "I hate pretty boys. My girlfriend just dumped me for one."
And just like that, WHACK!
Punches rained down. Kicks followed. No one helped. Adam was lying there, taking all the punches, questioning if his life was really over. Maybe these drunk guys would kill him for good. But soon they were gone—just another bad thing added to the list of this day.
By the time they left, Adam lay in a muddy patch of grass, face swollen, ribs aching. His once-pristine clothes torn and filthy. His pride in pieces.
He didn't get up.
He couldn't.
Not right away.
He curled up, hugging himself in the cold, rain falling harder, his breath shaking like a leaf.
Tears welled in his eyes. Not just from the pain—but from everything.
From betrayal. From humiliation. From losing everything in a single day.
From being disowned.
From being beaten.
From being utterly, completely alone.
He whispered, broken and trembling: "Why… why me…"
Then—
Ding.
A sound rang out in his head.
Not in his ears. In his head.
He froze.
Then, a robotic voice followed:
[Ching! Conditions met.]
[Despair Level: MAX]
[System Activation Complete.]
Adam blinked.
"…What the hell?"
[Hello, Host! Welcome to the Ultimate Comeback System.]
A screen appeared in front of his eyes. Floating. Glowing blue. Like some sci-fi hologram.
Name: Adam Goldbourne
Status: Broke. Homeless. Pretty.
System Level: 1
Main Goal: Achieve Revenge, Wealth, and Global Domination
[You have been selected for the Ultimate Comeback Program! You're at rock bottom, so there's only one direction left: UP.]
He stared at the glowing screen, mind spinning.
This had to be a dream. A delusion. Maybe he was finally going insane?
Adam sat up slowly, wincing in pain. "Is this a dream? Am I hallucinating?"
[Nope. 100% real. Well, as real as the slap that your dad hit you with. Want proof?]
Suddenly, a warm glow spread through his chest. His bruises began to fade. His body felt lighter. The sharp pain in his ribs dulled to a dull ache, then to nothing.
He gasped.
"What the hell…"
[Basic Recovery Activated. You're welcome.]
"…Okay. That felt real enough. What do you want from me?"
[Simple. You complete missions. Earn points. Use points to unlock skills, wealth, items, and influence. You level up, get stronger, richer, and smarter. Eventually, you can get anything you want in this world.]
[But first: revenge.]
Adam stared at the words for a long second.
Then, slowly, his lips curled into a grin. It wasn't charming or elegant—something you wouldn't imagine from the well-mannered son of a billionaire.
This one was darker. Wilder. Tainted with anger and soaked in pain.
"Revenge, huh? You're saying I can get back at Lisa and that sucking bitch?"
[Oh yes. And with style.]
He stood up. His clothes were still wet, but something had changed.
There was a fire in his chest now. A spark.
Maybe it was the system.
Maybe it was anger.
Maybe it was the fact that he longed to see the people who had dragged him into this mess groveling at his feet.
[Mission 1: Find a Place to Stay Tonight Without Spending Money. Not like you have any lol.]
[Reward: 100 Comeback Points + 1 Free Skill Spin.]
Adam wiped the rain from his face with the back of his hand. "Alright. Let's see what I can do."
He looked around the street like a man on a mission.
A nearby five-star hotel glowed in the distance like a beacon in the storm.
His eyes lit up.
He turned toward it.
"…I'm gonna walk in there like I own the place."
[Now we're talking.]