When Ethan woke up the next morning, sunlight was already spilling across the marble floor of the suite.
His head throbbed faintly — not from alcohol, but from the sheer absurdity of yesterday.
Rebirth.
Ten million dollars.
A Porsche 918.
A passive income that ticked upward every second.
He turned his head.
The space beside him was empty.
The sheets were still warm.
He sat up slowly and scanned the room.
Quiet.
No shower running. No footsteps.
Then he noticed something on the bedside table.
A thick stack of cash, pinned beneath his phone.
Not dollars.
Hundreds.
U.S. hundreds.
He blinked.
On top of the stack was a small folded note written in elegant handwriting.
"Thank you for last night. I was very satisfied. Consider this your reward."— Sophia
Ethan stared at it.
Then he laughed.
"Did I just get tipped?"
He picked up the stack.
Five thousand dollars. At least.
Generous.
Very generous.
He didn't know whether to feel amused or impressed.
A woman who leaves before sunrise, pays cash, and leaves no contact information.
Sophia Alvarez was interesting.
But she hadn't left a number.
No Instagram.
Nothing.
Ethan shrugged.
If fate wanted round two, it would arrange it.
After showering and dressing, he checked out of the hotel. As he stepped into the warm Miami air, the system interface appeared again in his vision.
Five Beginner Multiplier Cards.One Supercar Cashback Card (Unlimited cap, single use).
He tapped the interface mentally.
"So the Multiplier Cards give me a money multiplier on purchases under one million?"
"Correct. Maximum multiplier: 50x."
Ethan's mind sharpened.
If he bought something for $1,000,000 and triggered 50x, he'd get $50,000,000 back.
But the Supercar Cashback Card had no cap.
Which meant…
Use the small cards first.
Stack capital.
Then go nuclear with the unlimited card.
His eyes gleamed.
"This is basically financial domination mode."
Now he needed something expensive, liquid, and scalable.
Property.
Miami real estate had been climbing for years. Brickell. Downtown. Wynwood. Investors were flooding in.
If he paid in cash, he could bypass most of the financing nonsense.
He pressed the Porsche key.
A sharp electronic chirp echoed down the block.
Heads turned instantly.
There it was.
Matte black. Low. Aggressive.
The Porsche 918 Spyder.
People were already circling it, phones out.
A girl in a tight white crop top and glossy black skirt was leaning against the hood, taking selfies like she owned it.
Ethan approached calmly.
She noticed him immediately.
Her eyes lingered.
Young. Tall. Confident.
He walked past her and unlocked the car.
Her smile widened.
"Oh my god, this is yours?"
He paused, feigning confusion.
"Does it look like I'm asking permission to sit in it?"
She laughed lightly and stepped closer.
"I was just taking a few pictures. It's such a beautiful car."
He opened the door.
She leaned down toward the window.
"Maybe you could give me a ride?"
"Does it look like Uber Black?"
She smirked. "You don't have to act shy. I could show you something more interesting than a joyride."
He activated the Favorability Scan discreetly.
Name: Chloe MartinezAge: 23Appearance: 86Figure: 89Relationship History: 27Favorability: 90 (Financial Attraction)
Ethan nearly laughed.
Ninety.
Not for him.
For the car.
For the money.
For the lifestyle.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Twenty-seven is a bit crowded," he said casually. "I prefer quieter investments."
Her smile froze.
"…What?"
He revved the engine lightly.
"Take care."
The car launched forward smoothly, leaving her standing on the sidewalk in stunned silence.
Inside the cockpit, Ethan grinned.
The system chimed.
"Reward: Supercar Driving Mastery granted.""Driver's license verified and legally processed."
A digital copy of his Florida driver's license flashed in his wallet app.
He laughed.
"This system is ridiculous."
As he merged onto Biscayne Boulevard, he finally understood something important.
Luxury wasn't just transportation.
It was armor.
Signal.
Narrative.
In today's world, people judged in seconds.
If you pulled up in a dented Corolla, you were "trying."
If you pulled up in a hypercar, you were "arrived."
Some would say wealth shouldn't be displayed.
That real power is quiet.
That billionaires wear hoodies and drive old cars.
That works when your name is already the brand.
But Ethan?
He was level one.
Unknown.
Unranked.
He needed visible dominance.
He needed packaging.
Because until your name alone opens doors, symbols do.
The Porsche turned heads at every intersection.
Phones came out.
People stared.
And Ethan felt it.
Control.
He set his navigation to a high-end real estate brokerage in Brickell.
Why not go directly to a new development?
Because in Miami, prime units were locked up before public release.
Developers pre-sold to insiders.
Investors flipped contracts.
The public got leftovers.
But brokers?
Brokers knew everything.
If you walked in with cash and intent, doors opened.
The system ticked quietly.
+$0.10+$0.10+$0.10
Time was money.
Literally.
Ethan rested one hand lightly on the steering wheel, Miami skyline reflecting in the windshield.
Yesterday he was a teenager begging for affection.
Today he was a capital-generating entity with strategic leverage.
And this was only Day Two.
He smiled.
"Let's see what one million can turn into."
The game was shifting.
And Miami was about to feel it.