The hospital gym hummed with the sound of clinking weights and controlled breathing as Hezri and Britney finished their session, both glistening with sweat. Britney, still adjusting to her new role as his exclusive trainer, was about to suggest cool-down stretches when the doors slid open.

  Sara Croft strode in, her signature smirk in pce, fnked by two unfamiliar women—Sophie Cheung, the junior attorney Hezri vaguely recognized from court, and Li Vane, a fresh-faced political hopeful with ambition burning behind her eyes.

  "Hez," Sara said, her tone pyful, "meet your new admirers."

  Hezri’s gaze flicked first to Sophie, who shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

  Sophie Cheung

  Age: 24

  Familiarity: 3 (Recognizes him, but no real connection)

  Usefulness: Legal leverage (if she betrays her firm)

  Then to Li, who straightened her posture, trying to project confidence.

  Li Vane

  Age: 23

  Familiarity: 1 (First meeting, but politically hungry)

  Usefulness: Potential pawn against Elise

  Britney, standing just behind Hezri, clenched her fists. Who were these women? Why were they here?

  Hezri’s mind raced.

  Sophie’s Familiarity was at 3—just 2 points away from triggering his refund ability.

  Li’s was at 1—low, but easily maniputed.

  Current Money: 20,900,000—more than enough to "invest" in them.

  A slow smirk curled on his lips.

  "Sara tells me you two want… opportunities," he said, toweling off his neck. "Let’s see if you’re worth it."

  He turned to Sara. "Take them shopping. Get them whatever they need."

  Sara’s brows rose. "How generous."

  "Generosity has nothing to do with it," Hezri replied smoothly. "Consider it an… audition."

  Britney’s nails dug into her palms.

  First, the 60,000 shopping spree made her feel special. Now, he’s doing the same for them?

  She forced a smile. "I can… help pick out activewear. Since I’m his trainer."

  Hezri barely gnced at her. "Sure."

  The dismissal stung.

  As the women left, Hezri’s dashboard updated:

  [Sophie Cheung – Familiarity: 3 → 4] (Impressed by his casual wealth)

  [Li Vane – Familiarity: 1 → 2] (Intrigued, but wary)

  Not enough—yet.

  But the real game wasn’t about them.

  It was about Elise Carter.

  She wants to use me against the old politicians? Fine.

  But I’ll make sure Li causes her more problems than she bargained for.

  The Ptinum Galleria, the city’s most exclusive shopping district, was a glittering maze of designer boutiques where money moved like oxygen—necessary, invisible, and taken for granted.

  Maya, Alicia, Sara, and Lena led the procession, their designer heels clicking in unison as they guided Li Vane and Sophie Cheung through the hallowed halls of luxury. Trailing behind them, like an unwilling shadow, was Britney—her jaw clenched, her fingers tight around the straps of her gym bag.

  Hez’s instructions had been clear:

  "Spend 50,000 on each. And make sure Britney watches."

  Maya took charge of Sophie, steering her toward the Chanel boutique with a predator’s grace.

  "You’re too corporate," Maya mused, flicking through a rack of tweed bzers. "Hez likes women who look like they own the room, not just work in it."

  Sophie swallowed as Maya tossed a 8,000 jacket at her.

  Meanwhile, Alicia and Lena descended upon Li like vultures circling fresh prey.

  "Politicians need armor," Lena said, holding up a Tom Ford pantsuit with a price tag that made Li’s stomach flip.

  "And weapons," Alicia added, sliding a pair of 1,500 Louboutin stilettos toward her.

  Sara, ever the provocateur, lingered near Britney, her voice a velvet knife.

  "He’s not repcing you, you know," she murmured. "He’s just expanding."

  Britney’s nails bit into her palms.

  The Spending – 100,000 in Cold, Calcuted Extravagance

  By the time they hit the third store, the numbers were staggering:

  For Sophie:

  Chanel bzer & skirt set: 12,000

  Hermès Birkin (pre-owned, "entry-level"): 25,000

  Bvlgari diamond studs: 8,000

  Custom-fitted La Per lingerie: 5,000

  For Li:

  Tom Ford power suit: 7,000

  Valentino gown ("for fundraising gas"): 10,000

  Cartier Love bracelet: 6,500

  Chopard Happy Sport watch: 22,000

  Miu Miu heels ("to match the suit"): 1,500

  Total: 100,000—on the dot.

  As the final purchase was rung up, a notification pinged on Hez’s dashboard:

  100,000 spent. 200,000 refunded.

  >> Current Money: 21,000,000

  [Li Vane – Familiarity: 2 → 25] (Awe, greed, and the dawning realization of what loyalty to Hez could buy)

  [Sophie Cheung – Familiarity: 4 → 20] (Shaken out of her professional shell by sheer decadence)

  Britney watched, her chest burning, as Li and Sophie giggled over their spoils—her spoils, just days ago.

  "Don’t look so grim," Sara teased, nudging her. "You got your turn. Now it’s theirs."

  But that was the problem.

  There were always more turns. More women. More repcements.

  She forced a smile. "I’m fine."

  No one believed her.

  Back in his hospital suite, Hez studied the updated stats.

  Li’s Familiarity had skyrocketed—she was hooked.

  Sophie’s resistance was crumbling—she’d be useful against her w firm.

  Britney’s envy? Perfect. Fear kept her desperate to please.

  Elise Carter had no idea her pawns were now his.

  And when Li returned to her, buzzing with newfound ambition and a Cartier bracelet?

  That’s when the real fun would begin.

  ***

  The Bckwood & Caine w firm was a temple of mahogany desks, hushed murmurs, and the faint scent of overpriced ink. But today, the usual hum of legal discourse was repced by something far more tantalizing—gossip.

  Sophie Cheung, once the quiet junior associate in sensible bzers and scuffed loafers, had undergone a metamorphosis.

  At the Coffee Station:

  "Did you see her today?" whispered Daniel Reeves, a mid-level litigator, as he poured his third cup. "That’s a Chanel bzer. I know because my wife’s been begging for one."

  "And the bag," murmured Emily Cho, an intern, eyes wide. "It’s Hermès. Like, real Hermès."

  In the Break Room:

  "She’s not just dressing rich," muttered Richard Bckwood, the firm’s managing partner, swirling his bourbon. "She’s acting rich. Like she’s already made partner."

  "Maybe she has a sugar daddy," joked Marcus Hale, a senior associate, before freezing when Sophie herself walked past, her new 6,500 Cartier Love bracelet glinting under the fluorescent lights.

  Sophie kept her head high, but her pulse raced.

  She hadn’t told anyone about Hezri.

  She hadn’t officially breached client confidentiality.

  But the firm wasn’t stupid.

  Her superior, Eleanor Grant, had already summoned her for a "casual chat" tomorrow.

  Unbeknownst to Sophie, Elise Carter had already pnted whispers in the right ears:

  "Sophie’s been seen with Sara Croft—you know, that viral divorcee? Rumor is, she’s connected to Hezri now."

  A calcuted risk.

  If the firm investigated, Sophie would have no choice but to fully defect—straight into Hez’s waiting empire.

  ***

  Eleanor Grant’s office was a study in quiet power—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, an antique mahogany desk, and a single framed photo of her shaking hands with a Supreme Court justice. The air smelled of leather-bound w tomes and the faintest hint of Chanel No. 5—Sophie recognized it instantly now.

  Eleanor didn’t look up as Sophie entered, her fingers steepled under her chin. The silence stretched, thick enough to choke on.

  Then—

  "Sit."

  Sophie obeyed, her new 8,000 Chanel bzer suddenly feeling like a neon sign.

  Eleanor finally lifted her gaze, slow and deliberate, tracing Sophie’s transformation like a crime scene.

  "Let’s start with the obvious," she said, her voice a velvet-wrapped scalpel. "The bzer. Spring collection. The bracelet—Cartier, not a replica. The bag." A pause. "Hermès doesn’t gift those to junior associates with student debt."

  Sophie’s throat tightened.

  Eleanor leaned back, swirling her pen. "Then there’s the behavior. You used to leave at 9 PM. Now you’re out by 5. You used to stammer in depositions. Now you walk into rooms like you own them."

  A beat. "So. Who is he?"

  Sophie’s pulse spiked. "I—I don’t know what you—"

  "Don’t." Eleanor’s smile was gcial. "We both know you’re not this good an actress."

  She slid a photo across the desk—Sophie leaving "Vault & Brew" with Sara Croft.

  "Sara Croft’s divorce was our firm’s most high-profile case st year. And now you’re having coffee with her?"

  Sophie’s mind raced.

  Deny? But the evidence was there.

  Confess? That was career suicide.

  Eleanor read her panic like a brief. "Let me guess. Some hedge fund prick? A tech bro? Or—" Her voice dropped. "Is it Hezri?"

  Sophie’s breath stopped.

  "Ah." Eleanor’s grin was all teeth. "So it is him."

  She stood, circling the desk like a shark. "Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me everything. Or I’ll bury you so deep in discovery paperwork, you’ll forget what sunlight looks like."

  A knock at the door.

  "Come in," Eleanor called, never breaking eye contact with Sophie.

  The door opened—revealing Marcus Hale, the senior associate, holding a file.

  "The partners just approved Sophie’s transfer," he said, smirking. "She’s now on your team, Eleanor. Full-time."

  Sophie’s blood turned to ice.

  This wasn’t an interrogation.

  It was a takeover.