Frank was getting anxious and called his lawyer again.
But this time, Alan didn't pick up.
After a while, Alan finally replied with a short message:
"If I were you, I'd admit fault and apologize right away. If you try to fight this, you'll lose."
"You're already in the wrong, and they've got a team of powerhouse attorneys with bottomless funds. How do you expect to compete?"
"And honestly—why in the world did you pick a fight with a guy who wears Rolex and Patek Philippe and drives a G-Wagon, a Lambo, and a Cullinan? I felt panic just hearing about that Rolls alone. Three luxury cars at once? That's not just triple—it's a statement of wealth you can't imagine."
Frank gritted his teeth and kept sending messages, but Alan never replied again. In fact, a few minutes later, Frank realized he had been deleted from Alan's contacts.
Panic was starting to set in. He scrambled to reach out to random lawyers online.
Most never responded after hearing the details.
The few who did reply all gave the same advice: "Don't fight. Settle and compensate quickly before it gets worse."
Frank didn't want to accept it. He told himself those lawyers were just playing it safe, so he reached out to one of the law professors at the local university for guidance.
The professor gave him blunt advice:
"There's only one path—pay up. The sooner you compensate, the more lenient the court will be."
Frank's expression turned sour. "But what if my buddy's factory is already struggling? What if there's no money to pay?"
"Then declare bankruptcy. Liquidate the equipment and use it to pay the workers. The paperwork is all a mess anyway—you won't survive a lawsuit against a firm like Starlight. Better to shut down early than drag it out."
Frank finally understood the gravity of the situation. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, his face pale.
He used to think being broke meant he had nothing to lose—that a man with no shoes couldn't fear someone with them.
Now he realized the truth: the barefoot could still have their skin peeled off.
The thought of his family's plant shutting down, of sinking into debt, of returning to the poverty they had escaped ten years ago—it all made his stomach twist in fear.
His roommate, who had overheard the entire phone call, sighed. "See? I warned you. And now you're scared, huh?"
Frank suddenly jumped up, rushed downstairs, and sprinted across campus to the dorm building where Jason lived.
He ran straight to Room 307, burst inside, and without hesitation bowed deeply.
"Jason, I was wrong. I shouldn't have threatened you. Please, I beg you—forget what I said and give me another chance."
Mike, and another guy in the room all froze, stunned by the sight of Frank lowering himself like this.
Jason didn't even get out of bed. He was leaning back casually, scrolling on his Ipad, not sparing Frank a glance.
"Didn't you say you were broke? So broke you tried to scam Olivia out of her scholarship money just to survive? Then fine—I'll help you stay broke."
"I was wrong, I really was," Frank begged, dropping to his knees.
Jason's eyes never left his tablet. "No discussion. Your drywall plant is finished. Shut it down."
Jason had let others off before—like that smug restaurant manager, or a few arrogant classmates—because they were just pests looking down on the wrong person.
But Frank was different. He had made direct threats, and Jason had no tolerance for that kind of person.
A flash of bitterness crossed Frank's face. "Jason, don't push me too far. If you keep bullying me, don't blame me if I expose you on the student forum."
Jason finally glanced at him, expression calm and chilling.
"Go ahead. Try. Then look up the criminal penalties for defamation and slander. You'll lose in court—and your family will pay the damages."
"I can drop a million just to crush your factory. I can drop ten million if I want to bury you for trying to frame me."
"How much can you spend?"
Frank's bravado evaporated instantly. His pale face grew even whiter. In that moment, he understood just how wide the gap between rich and poor truly was.
"Get out," Jason said flatly. "Don't dirty my dorm. And don't harass Olivia again—or I'll show you worse than this. Right now, you're only standing at the gates of hell."
Frank knelt there, broken, then finally stumbled away in despair.
Meanwhile, over in the girls' dorms, Olivia had just hung up a call from her mother, her face filled with surprise.
her roommate, asked quickly, "What's wrong? Was it about your family's business?"
Olivia nodded. "Yeah. My mom said Frank's family plant just got hit hard. Accounts frozen, production halted. And all of their old contracts were rerouted… straight back to my family's factory."
"Wait—you said that someone texted you a few days ago, warning that Frank was trying to pressure Jashon. And now, just two or three days later, Frank's factory collapses? That's… not a coincidence."
[Olivia's favorability toward Jason +10]
She frowned. "So you're saying Jason did this?"
"But I told him clearly that I didn't owe Frank anything. I told him not to worry. Why would he go this far? He destroyed Frank's family business overnight like it was nothing."
Olivia thought for a moment, then shook her head slightly. "Maybe Frank said something that crossed the line. Or maybe Jason's the kind of man who doesn't tolerate threats. He's wealthy, capable—and if he wants to crush a struggling little factory, it's as easy as snapping his fingers."
She sighed. "Well… either way, I'm glad. Frank deserved it. And with those contracts back, your family's factory will finally be stable again."
Olivia nodded, then quietly picked up a heavy bag from her desk.
"Wait, where are you going? That bag's full of crab cakes and barbecue lamb your grandma just sent from home. I haven't even had a bite yet!" she looked confused.
"You always eat the most anyway. This time, I'm giving it to someone who hasn't tasted it yet."
With that, Olivia left.
Not long after, Jason got a call from the dorm manager. When he went downstairs, he was handed a large bag of food.
"Who dropped this off?" Jason asked.
"A really pretty girl. She didn't say her name," the manager replied, giving Jason a knowing look that said, lucky bastard.
Jason glanced at the food. Crab cakes and barbecue lamb—specialties from Olivia's hometown. He remembered her family was from the Midwest, where those dishes were famous.
Combined with the favorability boost he'd just sensed from her, Jason chuckled.
"Looks like this girl's not bad at all," he muttered, taking the bag upstairs without hesitation.
There are 60 chapters ahead in my Patreon, with 2 daily chapters. If you are interested can check it out.
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