The silence at the university gate was thick, heavy with the weight of Felicity's shattered pride. She stood frozen, her designer heels feeling suddenly unstable on the pavement. The man standing before her—the man she had treated as a ghost in her own home—was no longer looking at her with the eyes of a discarded husband. He was looking at her like a predator looks at a piece of poorly managed property.
"You... you bought the debt?" Felicity's voice was a ragged whisper. "That's impossible. Vanguard's debt is tied to the central bank and the Sterling Group. It would take tens of millions to buy that out. You're bluffing. You have to be."
Einstein didn't answer with words. He reached into the pocket of his black trousers and pulled out a sleek, obsidian-colored card—a private bank token reserved only for the ultra-wealthy. He tapped it against his phone and turned the screen toward her. It wasn't just a bank balance; it was a digital certificate of acquisition.
The name 'E.J. Holdings' was listed as the primary creditor for Vanguard Advertising.
"The Sterling Group was happy to sell, Felicity," Einstein said, his voice calm and melodic. "They didn't think you could make the next quarterly payment. And they were right, weren't they? You were going to ask me to sign over the house today so you could use it as collateral. But I don't sign papers for you anymore."
The Dean, sensing the atmosphere had turned from a schoolyard dispute into a high-stakes corporate execution, quietly backed away, taking the sobbing Norah with him. He knew enough to stay clear of a man who could buy a company in the time it took to eat breakfast.
The New Weight of Power
Einstein turned to Nick and Simon, who were still standing by the bike rack. Their mouths were literally hanging open. They had seen Einstein get pushed, insulted, and ignored for years. Now, he was standing over the city's most prominent businesswoman like an emperor.
"Go to the villa," Einstein told them, handing Nick a set of coordinates on a slip of paper. "Lucy will be there. She'll show you the guest rooms and make sure you're fed. We'll talk tonight."
"Ein... are you coming?" Nick stammered.
"Not yet," Einstein replied, his eyes shifting back to Felicity. "I have a meeting at my office. And so does she."
Without waiting for her to respond, Einstein walked toward the sleek, matte-black SUV that Lucy had sent. He didn't offer Felicity a ride. He didn't even look back as the engine roared to life, leaving her standing in the dust of the school parking lot.
The View from the High Table
The drive to the Vanguard Advertising headquarters was short, but for Einstein, it felt like a transition between two worlds. As he watched the city skyline blur past, he felt the 9th-level War God energy humming beneath his skin. His grandfather had always told him that money was just another form of martial arts—it was about leverage, flow, and knowing where to strike to cause the most damage.
When the SUV pulled up to the glass-and-steel skyscraper, the security guards—who usually ignored Einstein or told him to use the delivery entrance—snapped to attention. Word had traveled fast.
Einstein walked through the lobby, his presence commanding the space. He didn't head for the elevator; he headed for the main boardroom.
Inside, the board of directors was in a state of chaos. They had received the emergency notification of the debt transfer just minutes ago. When the doors swung open, they expected a representative from a bank or a rival firm. Instead, they saw a young man in a black t-shirt and a look of absolute authority.
"Who are you?" one of the senior directors, a man named Mr. Thorne, demanded. "This is a private meeting!"
"Actually, Mr. Thorne, this is my meeting," Einstein said, taking the seat at the head of the table—the seat Felicity usually occupied. "I am the Chairman of E.J. Holdings. Since I now hold the notes to your debt, I have the right to liquidate this company or restructure it. I've decided on the latter."
The room went silent. These were men who had spent their lives climbing the corporate ladder, and they were being told their fate by a youth who looked like he belonged in a lecture hall.
"What are your terms?" Thorne asked, his voice trembling.
"First," Einstein said, leaning forward. "The culture of this company changes today. No more looking down on 'lesser' clients. No more inflated bonuses while the delivery staff goes unpaid. Second, Felicity will remain as the face of the company, but she will report to me for every decision over ten thousand dollars."
Just then, the doors burst open again. Felicity entered, breathless and disheveled. She looked at the board, then at Einstein sitting in her chair.
"Einstein, stop this!" she cried. "You're doing this out of spite! You're going to ruin the company just to hurt me!"
"I'm not doing this to hurt you, Felicity," Einstein said, his voice cold. "I'm doing this because you're bad at business. You were so busy looking down at your husband that you didn't see your competitors stealing your clients. I'm not here to ruin you. I'm here to save the legacy my grandfather actually cared about."
The Shadow in the Hallway
As the board members began to argue, Einstein's ears twitched. His martial arts training had sharpened his senses to a supernatural level. He heard a footstep in the hallway—too heavy for a secretary, too rhythmic for a regular businessman.
It was the same "killing intent" he had felt back at the school.
"Meeting adjourned," Einstein announced suddenly, standing up. "Leave. All of you. Now."
"We aren't finished!" Thorne shouted.
Einstein's hand slammed onto the mahogany table. The wood didn't just creak—it cracked, a spiderweb of splinters blooming from under his palm. The sheer force of the 9th-level impact silenced the room instantly.
"I said, out," Einstein whispered.
The directors scrambled for the door, sensing a danger they couldn't name. Felicity stayed, her eyes wide with fear. "Einstein, what was that? How did you do that to the table?"
"Get in the corner, Felicity," Einstein commanded, his eyes fixed on the door. "And don't make a sound."
The door swung open slowly. A man in a grey tracksuit entered. He looked unremarkable, except for his eyes—they were cold, empty, and fixed entirely on Einstein.
"The 9th-level War God's brat," the man rasped. "The Council thought you were a myth. They thought the old man died without passing on the seal."
"Who sent you?" Einstein asked, his body coiling into a combat stance he hadn't used in years.
"The people who want that ten million back. And the people who want the secrets in your head."
The man lunged. He was fast—faster than any human Einstein had ever seen outside of his grandfather. He was a 7th-level fighter, a mercenary of the hidden world.
Einstein didn't move until the last second. He used the 'Cloud Step' technique, sliding past the man's punch and delivering a lightning-fast strike to the man's ribs. The man gasped, but he was a professional; he spun and attempted a sweeping kick.
Einstein jumped, twisting in mid-air, and landed a double-palm strike to the man's chest. The assassin flew backward, smashing through the glass partition of the boardroom and landing in the hallway.
Felicity screamed, covering her mouth. She was seeing a side of Einstein that was impossible. He wasn't a student. He wasn't a delivery rider. He was a monster.
Einstein walked toward the fallen assassin. "Go back to the Council. Tell them I don't care about their seals. But if they come near my home or my company again, I will hunt every one of them down."
The man scrambled to his feet, coughing blood, and fled toward the fire exit.
The New Reality
Einstein turned back to Felicity. He wasn't breathing hard. He wasn't even sweating. He straightened his black t-shirt and looked at her.
"You... you're a fighter?" she whispered. "All those times I shouted at you... all those times I called you weak..."
"I was following my grandfather's orders to stay hidden," Einstein said. "But he's gone. And the money changed the rules."
He walked toward her, stopping just inches away. For five years, she had been the sun in his world, and he had been a planet orbiting her. Now, the gravity had shifted.
"I'm going back to the villa," he said. "The guest house is prepared for you. You can't stay at your old house—the Council knows where it is now. If you want to stay alive, you stay with me. As my employee, and as my guest."
"And if I say no?" Felicity asked, a spark of her old defiance flickering.
"Then you face the world alone," Einstein said, turning toward the door. "And we both know how well you've been doing at that lately."
The Evening Reflection
Hours later, at the villa, Einstein sat on the balcony of his 40,000-square-meter estate. The sun was setting, and the waterfall at the gate was glowing in the twilight. Lucy had done an incredible job; the house was stocked with everything he needed.
Downstairs, he could hear Nick and Simon laughing as they explored the game room, their first taste of the "good life." In the guest wing, he knew Felicity was sitting in silence, trying to reconcile the "loser" she knew with the titan she had seen today.
His phone rang. It was the international number again.
"Einstein," his mother's voice was urgent. "You shouldn't have shown your skills. The 7th-level was just a scout. They're sending a 'War Lord' next. You need more than ten million, Einstein. You need an army."
"Then send me an army, Mother," Einstein said, his voice hardening. "Because I'm not hiding anymore."
"I can't send an army yet," she whispered. "But check your account. I've sent you the 'Second Gift.' Use it wisely."
Einstein opened his banking app. The balance had changed.
Current Balance: $100,000,000.50
He stared at the number. One hundred million dollars. Enough to buy the city. Enough to build a fortress.
He looked out over the hill, his eyes glowing with the fierce light of the War God. The game had just moved to a whole new level.