Terrence grinned behind the wheel, the thrill of his brand-new car making every turn feel like an adventure.
Soon, he stopped outside a fancy cafe between tall glass buildings.
He parked right at the curb.
As soon as the engine stopped, the car became the centerpiece of the street.
People stared openly, not even trying to hide their curiosity, and that was fine.
No one could blame them for admiring it; these kinds of vehicles were half machine, half work of art.
Terrence stepped out, adjusting his jacket as whispers trailed behind him.
Some mistook him for a celebrity. The black sunglasses, the confident walk, and the way his well-toned physique showed through his clothes made it hard not to stare.
"Kid, it's great being young and rich," Saul said as he stood up and shook his hand firmly.
The attorney's eyes showed respect, even though he called him 'kid'.
After all, age doesn't matter when it comes to making money.
Once he settled into his seat, he ordered his own espresso first—hot, and strong.
"Let's get down to business, Attorney. Who knows, give it a month or two and you might be driving your own supercar too."
Saul's eyes widened.
"Kid, you've got a real talent for buying loyalty—respect. That's how the game's played. But hey, if you're handing out gifts, make mine a G-Wagon, yeah? No shame in asking!"
"Easy," Terrence said, nodding. "You look out for me—I make sure you're set for life."
He preferred working with people who showed their greed openly rather than those who pretended to have morals.
Give them enough, and they'll follow orders faster than family, or even a lover.
They got down to business, and one by one, he signed the papers after reviewing them carefully.
"All that's left is an office now, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, kid, I've got some good news. I know a place we can fix up quick. You give me the funds, and I'll turn it into the most convincing dummy company money can buy—like it's been legit since the dot.com."
Terrence leaned in, clearly intrigued as he listened to the pitch.
The office was a bit removed from the city center but still within the urban area, and the rent was surprisingly reasonable.
Plus, it was in a quiet neighborhood with plenty of space for parking and lots of privacy.
"Take all the spaces," he instructed.
Saul raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute—I thought this was supposed to be a dummy company. So why are we renting the Taj Mahal?"
"I'm thinking of scaling up my investment firm for real—bringing in actual investors. So I need a legit office with real employees. I'm sure that's something you can help me with, right?"
"Kid, I've made fake look so real it could testify in court. So making a real one actually real? That's a walk in the park. Consider me your Major Advisor" Saul said, laughing and clearly loving every second of it.
He could already smell a pyramid scheme cooking, but he kept that thought to himself.
Whatever Terrence was planning wasn't his business—his job was to stick around for the fallout and clean up the mess when the court dates started rolling in.
By the time they wrapped up, it was already close to 4:00 p.m.
They lost track of time, caught up in discussing every aspect of the business.
"That's all, then. I'll wait for your email," Terrence said as he stood up and headed for the door.
Just as he approached the car, he received a text message from one of the Latinas — the driver, who he now knew as Camila.
'Interesting,'
On the screen, it read that they were currently hanging out at a social club.
Curious, he started digging around online. Turns out, it was a hotspot for second-generation rich kids—the heirs to old money and serious influence.
Even wealthy Asian kids were part of the scene, spending their parents' fortunes like it would all vanish by sunrise.
Normally, he wasn't the kind to mix with that crowd.
But for his plan to work, he needed connections among the wealthy — the top 1%.
And what better way to get in than by befriending their clueless sons and daughters?
'This is all about getting investors. It's got nothing to do with wanting to sleep with those two,' he told himself—a lie so obvious, even Saul would've had a hard time defending it.
VROOOOM!
The car moved through the city, making its first stop at a high-end clothing shop.
There, he dropped ten grand on a casual blazer, fifteen on a pair of tailored pants, and another eight on snake-patterned shoes.
He knew the circle he was stepping into: entitled kids who thought the world revolved around them.
To get in, he needed to match their image of an impulsive buyer.
'Why do I feel like I'm not even pretending?' he thought. 'Maybe I am one of them... God help me.'
Shaking his head, he refused to believe that was the case.
After everything he been through.... the hellish future he endured, if anyone deserved a little luxury, it was him.
Looking sharp, he made his way straight to the meeting spot.
As it turned out, the place was a five-star hotel, owned by the parents of one of the members.
Soon, he reached the parking entrance and spotted a crowd gathered around a lineup of supercars and hyper cars.
Young people were lounging beside their vehicles, dressed head to toe in luxury brands, laughing and smiling like they had not a care in the world.
They glanced over as he pulled in—not out of awe, but because they didn't recognize him.
In a place like this, his Ferrari looked almost ordinary.
The second he stepped out, Camila and her wild friend Georgina came over to greet him.
As expected, she was bold—already clinging to him, pressing close enough that he could feel her ample chest against his arms.
"Glad you managed to come," Camila said with a smile, looking a bit apologetic about her friend's behavior.
"My meeting wrapped up earlier than I expected, so I've got some free time," he replied, doing his best to look professional and cool.