Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Chapter 113 The Long Waited Moment

The blaring alarm yanked Parker out of a dead sleep.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Groaning, he smacked his hand across the nightstand, missing the snooze button completely. The damn thing kept wailing, shredding his half-dreamed thoughts into fragments.

"Shut the—"

His palm hit the clock again—this time harder. There was a sharp crack, a pop, and the next thing he knew, sparks danced across the shattered remains of what used to be a very expensive alarm clock.

"God damn it." He blinked blearily at the mess, barely able to keep his eyes open. The lingering traces of Omni Energy still buzzed faintly in his body, making his skin feel charged—like static clung to his veins.

Note to self: Don't flex magic half-asleep.

Rubbing his face, Parker sat up slowly, his hair a mess, eyes squinting against the stupidly bright sliver of sunlight cutting through his blackout curtains. Everything felt...loud. The light, activities in the mansion, his pulse pounding behind his eyes.

Reaching for his new Samsung, he powered it on, only for the massive, ultra-bright screen to glare right back at him.

"Ugh, too fucking bright." He squinted harder, holding the phone at arm's length like it was a flashlight pointed directly into his retinas. Who the hell needed a screen this huge first thing in the morning?

Annoyed, he tossed it onto the bed and grabbed the iPhone instead—the one he'd turned off last night to avoid Scarlet's harassment.

The screen lit up as it powered back on. Silence. Then—

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Seven missed calls. All from Scarlet Draven.

Parker stared at the screen, waiting for the next alert. But...nothing. No follow-up texts. No voicemails either.

Huh. Weird. Scarlet wasn't exactly the "leave it alone" type. If she wanted something, she made it everyone's problem. The fact she hadn't kept blowing up his phone was...a relief, but it also felt off.

He exhaled, pushing down the tension crawling up his neck. Whatever. If she really wanted to come at him, she'd show up. Not his problem right now.

Then another text came in.

Not from Scarlet.

Maya Winslow: Hi sweetheart.

Parker blinked, his lips parting. What the hell?

Another text, just below it.

Maya Winslow: You know, I don't know why you haven't been at school, but I do miss you. Last time you ran from me, Parker and I only heard what's going on in your life from Annabelle.

Oh yeah. He remembered that day. His last day before he bailed on school. He didn't just run—he straight-up dipped to avoid her.

Now here she was, back again after two straight weeks, like she didn't get the message.

Of course, she didn't get the message.

Maya Winslow: You know, apart from Ryan, there are other new hot guys now. One of them? Golden hair, just like Ryan. He tried to hit on me, but you know what, Parker? You're my only love. My prince.

Parker groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Why?

Why the hell was she still hung up on him? Maya Winslow was everything he wasn't back then. Beautiful. Smart. Rich as hell. Most guys at Silverbrook would've killed for her attention. Ryan practically worshipped the ground she walked on. But she? She had latched onto him.

Even back when he was broke and anti-social, she was all over him. And he never understood why.

He could feel the headache building already.

"Whatever, Maya," he muttered under his breath, tossing the phone back onto the bed. "You're not about to ruin my damn day."

He shoved the thoughts aside and headed straight for the shower.

A While Later...

The water had helped—sort of. Steam clung to his skin as he emerged, towel slung low around his waist, hair damp and dripping. At least his head felt clearer now.

Dressing was next—black tailored pants, a charcoal-gray fitted sweater that hugged his frame just right, and a sleek black bomber jacket. Minimalist but sharp. Exactly his style.

Grabbing a sleek leather duffle bag, Parker tossed in a few essentials out of habit—a spare shirt, even his laptop. Not that he needed half the stuff. Most of it was already stored safely in his inventory, tucked away by magic. But appearances mattered.

Opening a drawer, his hand hovered over a collection of luxury watches before he settled on a silver Rolex Daytona. Simple, but subtle enough to be ignored. A small flex.

Next, a quick spritz of Bleu de Chanel—clean, sharp, expensive.

White sneakers to match. Finally, both phones—Samsung and iPhone—into his jacket pocket.

Time to move.

Downstairs the smell of fresh coffee hit first. Breakfast was already set on the long marble dining table—grilled bacon, eggs, avocado toast. Naomi's work, clearly. Elena wasn't much of a cook.

He sat, eating in silence, glancing up just once when Naomi passed by, quiet as usual. No awkward conversation. No unnecessary chatter.

Perfect.

When he finished, he stood up... He typed on his phone.

{$1,000,000 wired. Furniture should arrive today. Get quotes for a gym renovation too—best equipment only. Use it for anything extra while I'm out!} He paid little attention to the cashback.

Simple. Efficient. No unnecessary conversation. Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire

In the aarage, the Lamborghini sat there. Gleaming. Aggressive. Tempting.

He almost took the Rolls Royce instead, just for the subtlety—but no. Today wasn't a day for subtle. If the Blackwoods had questions? He wasn't worried. He could spin a perfect lie without breaking a sweat.

He was Parker Black.

Ere appeared just as he slid into the driver's seat, her silver eyes narrowing slightly as she settled onto the passenger seat.

"Morning, princess," he muttered, starting the engine with a low growl.

She flicked her tail, unimpressed. "You're in a mood. Should I be concerned?"

He smirked. "Nah. Just making an entrance."

The Lambo's engine roared to life, a deep, throaty snarl vibrating through the leather interior.

Ere blinked. "So...no restraint today?"

"Not even a little."

Ere's tail flicked, amused. "Finally decided to stop hiding from your family, huh?"

He gave her a flat look. "No."

"Right. Of course not," she said smugly.

The V12 snarled with every shift of the gears, each burst of acceleration pressing Parker back into his seat as the tires gripped hard against the morning asphalt.

Morning sunlight bounced off the black paint, the city blurring past in streaks of silver and gold.

The Lambo drifted smoothly, controlled chaos. Adrenaline surged through him as the scent of burning rubber filled the air.