Chapter 4 – How to Ruin a Billionaire Without Lifting a Finger
The coffee in his hand still smelled amazing—nutty, deep, rich, everything a soul-scorched demon child needed to feel whole again.
Under the table, Naomi—aka Chair Leg—was curled up tighter than a tax fraud case on Judgment Day. Her breathing was quiet, but every now and then, he felt a tiny tremble through the polished floorboards. Girl was stressed. High-end perfume clung to the air near her, floral and citrusy, with an undercurrent of oh-gods-what-if-they-find-me panic.
Lux sighed and took a slow, almost meditative sip of his coffee.
Then the glass doors of the Sovereign Grand lobby opened again.
-Click. Click. Click.
Footsteps. Multiple. Sharp. Precise. Like investment bankers who moonlighted as bounty hunters. A whole squad of them walked in—five men and two women, all dressed in charcoal-gray suits tailored to hellish perfection. Each one had that air of practiced corporate menace. They look like they'd ruined a hundred startups before breakfast and didn't flinch at legal grey zones.
And leading them?
A man.
Mid-thirties. Slicked-back ash-blond hair, jaw so sharp it probably signed contracts in blood. Designer shoes that never touched public sidewalks. His cufflinks gleamed like they were forged from generational wealth and tax evasion.
Lux sipped his coffee, not even blinking.
[Scanning...]
[Name: Carson Virellion]
[Net Worth: $2.1 Billion]
[Fortune: 73% – Artificially Maintained]
[Status: "Corporate Parasite. Naomi's Arranged Fiancé. Planning Hostile Takeover of Delacour Holdings via Marriage."]
[Compatibility Score: -2%]
[Threat Level: Mild. Smells like cheap cologne and trust funds.]
Lux's upper lip twitched. "Eurgh."
He stared into his cup. "That's a Fortune built on daddy's lawyers and offshore accounts. Not even worth stealing the branding from."
The suited group split up like sharks circling caviar. Carson scanned the room with narrowed eyes, jaw tight with expensive impatience. His nose wrinkled at the Velvet Brew's cozy, warm ambiance like he could smell the freedom and common sense.
Lux didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even breathe wrong.
He just kept sipping his coffee.
Carson's gaze eventually landed on him.
Lux could see it. That exact moment when Carson's overfed gut instinct started screaming, "That guy's suspicious."
Lux didn't even blink. Just casually leaned back in his seat, letting the aroma of espresso waft dramatically into the air like he was filming a sensual coffee commercial.
And Carson walked over.
Of course he did.
He stopped just short of the table, looking down at Lux like he expected everyone to recognize him from some Forbbes list.
"You."
Lux sipped.
"Me," he said smoothly.
"I'm looking for someone."
Lux made a face. "That's tragic. Have you tried therapy?"
Carson's nostrils flared. "A woman. She ran in here a few minutes ago. Platinum hair. Red dress. Expensive heels. Seen her?"
Lux blinked slowly. Thoughtfully. Then turned his head and pointed at a random girl near the counter—a server in a red uniform skirt wiping down a tray.
"She's platinum and wearing red," Lux offered casually.
Carson scowled. "That's not her."
Lux raised a brow. "You didn't say which platinum in red. You gotta narrow it down. It's like asking if I've seen a guy in a suit. You're literally dressed like every nightmare I've had in court."
Carson stepped closer. "Don't play dumb with me."
"I'm not playing. This is just who I am."
The tension snapped. Carson reached forward and grabbed Lux by the collar— and yanked.
Lux's cup jerked with the motion. Coffee sloshed.
A dark streak of heaven's nectar spilled down Lux's shirt.
The café went dead silent.
Somewhere under the table, Naomi let out a horrified breath.
Lux looked down.
Coffee.
Wasted.
On.
His.
Shirt.
He slowly looked up, eyes gleaming faintly red. His voice, when he spoke, was the sound of an impending audit.
"…You just ruined my coffee."
Carson sneered. "You'll survive."
Lux tilted his head. "You know what's crazy? That's exactly what I said before tax season."
He reached up.
Brushed Carson's hand off like it was a rejected split bill request.
"Let go," Lux said.
Carson didn't.
So Lux smiled. A slow, dangerous kind of smile.
The kind of smile that should've had its own disclaimer.
[Skill activated: Wealth Rewrite – Drain]
[Target Locked: Carson Virellion]
[Initiating Direct Contact…]
[Drain Conditions Met: Arrogant Touch + Insolent Attitude + Stupid Enough to Spill Coffee]
[Activating...]
Lux raised two fingers and tapped Carson's chest—right over his designer tie pin.
It shimmered.
Carson flinched. "What the—"
Golden runes bloomed across his clothes like ink spreading through silk. They danced, twisted, and dissolved into flickering data streams only Lux could see.
[Draining Assets…]
[$103M Transferred to Dummy Shell Corp – "Latte Vengeance LLC"]
[72 Rare Stocks Liquidated]
[6 Offshore Accounts Cleared]
[Fiancé Status Nullified – Marriage Clause Breached by Infraction: Physical Assault in Public Venue]
[Naomi Delacour's Family Lawyer Notified Automatically]
[Bonus Gained: Executive Mansion at 9742 Elysian Ridge, Beberly hills, Includes Rooftop Hot Tub]
[Net Worth of Target Now: $327.81]
Lux stepped back. His shirt was still stained. But he looked radiant.
Carson blinked. Wobbled. His phone buzzed in his pocket, then again. And again. And again.
He pulled it out. Screen full of app notifications. Warnings. Error codes. Emails. Bank security alerts.
"No… No no no—"
Lux adjusted his collar. "Oh no, what happened?"
Carson's eyes went wide. His phone buzzed violently in his pocket. Then again. And again. The screen lit up with notifications—emails, app crashes, security pings, banking errors.
He yanked it out and stared.
The color drained from his face. "No… no no no no no—" His voice cracked. "This has to be a glitch. This has to be a joke."
One of his suited entourage looked at their own phone, then back at him with the kind of expression reserved for doomsday countdowns.
"Sir," the assistant said, voice thin. "Your portfolio… it's—um. It's gone. All of it."
Carson spun to face him. "Gone?! What do you mean gone?! I had—"
His words choked off as more alerts poured in, screen going red. Emergency lockdowns. Breach protocols. Frozen assets.
He staggered back a step.
Another assistant stared, pale. "Sir, your accounts are all reporting asset liquidation. Simultaneously."
Carson's expression collapsed like the stock market in a divine recession.
He looked around wildly, hands twitching like he expected to grab money from the air.
"No, no! This isn't happening! I—I was just at a board meeting this morning! I had—! Check again!"
One of the team hesitated. "Sir, the lawyers just pulled out. Your pre-nup clauses are invalid now. Delacour Holdings won't—"
"I haven't even married her yet!" Carson shrieked.
Behind his coffee cup, Lux blinked innocently. "Huh. That sounds… really unfortunate."
Carson's frantic gaze landed on Lux. Just for a second. Suspicious. Wild. But Lux was the picture of calm. Slightly disheveled, sure—but stained shirt, coffee, and expression of 'man, I'm just vibing' were convincing enough.
Lux tilted his head like he had no idea what was happening. "You okay, buddy? You look like someone just cancelled your yacht subscription."
Carson opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His assistants had already begun whispering amongst themselves—some slowly backing toward the exit, others typing on their phones like they were trying to legally un-exist.
He ran a hand through his hair, trembling.
Then turned.
And bolted out of the café like Hell itself had declared bankruptcy and named him personally responsible.
The rest of his entourage followed in awkward silence—some tripping, some muttering, all pretending not to know him.
The moment the doors closed behind them, the air shifted.
The café music resumed. The scent of croissants once again reclaimed the room. Someone in the corner even clapped slowly, unsure why, but convinced they'd witnessed something divine.
Lux sat and leaned down. "You can come out now, Chair Leg."