[CURRENT BALANCE: $575,000.00]
The notification was still displaying as Mark pulled his shirt back on, the numbers glowing in his vision.
Alexa stood by the window with her back to him, arms wrapped around herself, staring out at the darkening sky. Her hair was disheveled. She looked somehow smaller in her red dress.
"That was remarkably quick," the system voice remarked with clinical detachment.
Quick? Mark thought back, not bothering to hide his irritation. Lasting fifteen minutes ain't quick. And the task was to sleep with her.
"Indeed. Efficiency noted."
Alexa turned from the window. Her eyes found him, searching his face for something she wouldn't find there. She could see something wasn't settled in him. He was too ready to leave.
She'd thought she was the one using him, taking what she needed from a boy who wouldn't judge her. She was happy, but she wondered if he had a good time as well.
"Mark," she called softly, walking closer. Her bare feet made no sound on the floor. "Did you like it?"
"Yeah." He met her eyes with a smile. Owed her that much. "You?"
"Actually, I did." Her voice was steady and happy, but something underneath it trembled like a fault line about to shift. "But I'd like this to be the last time."
Good, Mark thought. Makes it easier.
"Yeah, I understand." Mark finished dressing, movements mechanical, practiced. "I should get going, Alexa."
"You're not going to wait for Lex?" She moved to the dining table, started clearing plates. "He'll be here soon. He was really excited about you two hanging out."
"Tell him I had an emergency."
"What if he suspects..."
"It doesn't matter what he thinks, as long as you're happy."
"Is this about what just happened?" She paused. "Because I can tell you wanted it too."
The accusation stung because it was absolutely true. Though she probably thought he was just a teenager who'd be ready for any opportunity to get laid.
"No, it's not about that." The lie came easily. "This was my best night, Alexa. Actually."
He walked over to her, close enough to smell her perfume mixed with sweat. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Thank you for everything. I just have to go."
"Okay."
He headed for the door, already mentally counting the money, already planning the next move.
"Wait." Alexa went to her bag on the side table, pulled out a debit card. "There's ten thousand dollars on this account."
Mark stared at the card she held out to him like an offering, or a payment, or maybe both.
"Take it," she insisted, pressing it toward him. "Let that money help you, Mark. You can use it for anything. The bank won't question charges."
He wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell her he didn't need her money. But he remembered who the Sentaras were. Old money. Real power. Ten thousand dollars was pocket change to them.
And he needed it. Needed every advantage, every dollar, every edge if he was going to survive what was coming. If he was going to climb high enough to matter.
"Thank you, Alexa." He took the card, slipped it into his wallet next to the system card. Two pieces of plastic that represented two different kinds of transactions.
"You're welcome." She answered. "But do me one favor. Don't come back here unless I call you."
The words hit harder than they should have. She wasn't angry. Just resigned. Defeated, maybe. Like she'd known from the start how this would end but had walked into it anyway because loneliness made people stupid.
"Okay, lovely."
Mark stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. The click of the lock echoed too loud in the empty corridor. He stood there for a moment, listening to his own breathing before he left.
Half a million dollars. That's what his pleasure was worth. That's what he'd got for getting laid in his new body.
"Transaction completed successfully," the system voice noted. "You now have sufficient capital to begin more substantial operations."
Shut up.
"I'm simply providing analysis. Your emotional response is understandable but counterproductive. You made a calculated choice based on—"
Okay, go on. Analyse.
His phone rang, shattering the silence. Henry's name flashed on the screen, probably wondering where he was.
Not now. Mark almost didn't answer, but something made him pick up. Maybe the need to hear a voice that wasn't his own. "Henry, what's wrong?"
"Bro, I'm freaking out." Henry's voice came through panicked, breathless. "I was shaving my balls, right? Using my phone as a flashlight because the bathroom light's busted, and suddenly I hear this notification sound."
Mark blinked. "You were what?"
"Just listen! I look at my phone and I'm live on TikTok. LIVE. With my whole situation just out there for everyone to see."
Despite everything, Mark felt a laugh bubble up. Wrong moment, wrong emotion, but it came anyway. "How did you even—"
"I don't know! I must've hit something. Now everyone at school's gonna see and I'm gonna die, Mark. Actually die if Jeda Wess sees—"
"Relax, bro. Just delete it. People scroll past stuff in like two seconds anyway."
"You're laughing at me." Henry's voice went flat with betrayal.
"I'm not—"
The line went dead. Mark stared at his phone. Part of him wanted to call back, to be the friend Henry needed. But another part, the part that was growing stronger every day, reminded him that attachments were dangerous.
He'd learned that lesson the hard way. People you cared about became leverage, became weaknesses others could exploit.
Better to keep distance. Better to stay focused on the climb. He checked his pocket, felt the debit card and the system card. Real money. Power in plastic form. Half a million dollars earned in less than an hour.
And all it cost was using Alexa's desperate attempt to connect with someone who saw her as more than her past. Not such a bad trade.
His phone buzzed again. Uncle Terry's name appeared on the screen.
Uncle Terry wouldn't call this late unless something was wrong. Unless there was news. The kind of news that couldn't wait until morning.
Mark's hand was steady as he answered. "Hello"
"Mark." The voice on the other end was heavy, tired, carrying the weight of bad news. "Son, I need you to sit down. Is there somewhere you can sit?"
"Just tell me." Mark's voice came out flat, already knowing.
"It's your father. Michael. There's been an accident."
The word "accident" hung in the air like a lie. Ben Sentara didn't have accidents. He orchestrated them.
"Is he dead?" Mark asked, not surprised by how steady his voice sounded.
A pause. Too long.