I Became Rich With My System

Chapter 10

The hum of the car was steady until Darren killed the engine in front of the old Chinese store. The place looked the same as it always did—red lanterns swaying tiredly, dust on the windows, the smell of spice and tobacco drifting faintly out.

Darren unbuckled, stretching his arms. “I can’t go empty-handed there,” he said, glancing at me. “My father-in-law will skin me alive if I show up bare.” He forced a grin. “Help me grab some good wine inside?”

I smirked faintly, pushing open the door. “Wine for your father-in-law, huh? Expensive taste.”

Darren pulled a few bills from his wallet and pressed them into my hand before I could argue. “Don’t give me that look. Just get something decent. I’ll wait in the car.”

“Lazy bastard,” I muttered, stepping out and shoving the money into my pocket.

The bell above the shop door chimed as I walked in. The air was thick with incense, heavy and sweet. Shelves lined with foreign labels and glass jars crowded the aisles. My boots thudded on the wooden floor as I scanned the wines.

Something caught my eye on the third shelf—a bottle of deep red, sleek design, golden dragon etched around its neck. Darren’s father-in-law would eat that up. I picked it up, tilting it in the light. A dollar sticker clung loosely under it—cheap branding trick, but it would pass for classy.

Perfect.

I brought it to the counter where an old man sat cross-legged on a stool behind the register, eyes half-shut as if he hadn’t seen daylight in decades. “Ring it up,” I said, sliding the bottle across.

He scanned it lazily. “That will be sixty-five.”

I tossed the bills down, didn’t bother waiting for change. My head was already elsewhere. Because as I turned to leave—

I froze.

By the door, a man lingered. Black clothes, face cap pulled low. He wasn’t looking at the shelves—he was looking at me. Cold. Calculated. My pulse spiked instantly.

“Raven…” I breathed it under my breath, the name tasting bitter on my tongue.

The psychopath. The one the President had warned me about. Malik Radwan was dangerous, but Raven? Raven was chaos dressed in skin.

Our eyes locked.

For a moment, the world shrank to nothing but that stare. His lips curled into the faintest smirk before he spat out one word.

“Shit.”

Then he bolted.

I shot forward instantly, weaving past a rack of noodles and slamming the door open with my shoulder. Raven was already sprinting across the lot, his movements sharp and wild. He didn’t look back. He dove into a black sedan waiting at the curb, the tires screeching as he gunned the engine.

“Darren!” I roared, sprinting toward our car.

Darren jerked upright, wide-eyed. “What the hell’s going on?”

“No time!” I yanked his door open. “Other side—move!”

“What—Kael—”

“Move!”

He scrambled over to the passenger seat, and I slid behind the wheel, slamming the ignition. My hands gripped the steering like steel.

The chase was on.

The sedan peeled out onto the crowded street, weaving through carts, motorcycles, pedestrians who scattered like birds. I floored the gas, the roar of the engine swallowing Darren’s curses.

“Jesus, Kael, watch out!” Darren shouted as I swerved hard left, narrowly missing a fruit vendor’s stall. Oranges spilled across the asphalt like shrapnel.

“Eyes forward, Darren,” I growled, but even I felt my chest tighten. The crowd blurred past me, shouts rising behind us. Raven was cutting through the chaos like he owned it, every turn sharper than the last.

I pushed harder. Tires screamed against the pavement as I jerked the wheel, clipping a cart of fish that exploded in a spray of water and scales.

“Are you insane?!” Darren barked, gripping the dashboard.

“Hold on.”

I stomped the accelerator, the world smearing into streaks of color. My heart hammered with each second, vision locked on the black sedan darting ahead. Raven was fast—but I was faster.

Just as I closed the gap, the wail of sirens split the air.

Blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror. A patrol car barreled into the street, another joining from the crossroad. The cops had picked up the chase.

The steering wheel felt like it was burning under my grip, my focus narrowed on the dark road cutting ahead. Darren’s voice cracked through the silence.

“Kael! The police are after us—stop the damn car!”

I didn’t even glance at him. The rearview mirror told me everything—red and blue lights bleeding into the night, their sirens tearing through the streets like wolves howling at prey. Then came the voice over the loudspeaker, sharp, mechanical, echoing across the chase.

“Attention! Vehicle ahead, you are ordered to pull over immediately! Stop your car and comply!”

Their words felt distant. My blood was already fixed on one thing—catching that bastard, Raven. He thought he could run. He thought tonight was his victory. I wasn’t giving him that.

I didn’t answer Darren. My jaw clenched, my eyes pinned to the road. But then, from the corner of my vision, headlights cut in. Not one. Two.

Two black vehicles surged from the side streets like predators closing the hunt. One slid against my left, the other against Darren’s side. Tires screeched, engines growled, and then the windows rolled down.

Metal glinted under the streetlamps.

Gunmen.

My heart thundered.

“Down!” I roared, shoving Darren by the shoulder. Bullets ripped through the air, glass shattering, sparks flying as the rounds chewed against metal. I ducked, fists tightening on the wheel, swerving us hard between the lanes as the rain of fire followed us.

Think, Kael. Think fast.

I slammed the brakes for a split second, jerking the car back, forcing the gunmen’s vehicles to overshoot. The screech was deafening. Then I yanked the wheel right, smashing the side of our car into the rear axle of the one on Darren’s side. The impact sent it veering left, colliding into its partner.

Metal against metal. A brutal crash. The sound of death twisting steel. Both cars flipped, rolling like carcasses, then bursting into flame behind us.

But fate wasn’t gentle with me either. The recoil from the hit threw our car sideways, the tires shrieking as I fought for control. The wall of a building rushed toward us like a fist.

“Hold on!”

The crash came like thunder. The windshield spiderwebbed, metal groaned, smoke rising. Pain shot through me as my body slammed against the restraints. Darren cursed beside me, alive but shaken.

I shoved the door open, lungs dragging in the taste of fire and dust. My legs trembled, but I forced myself upright, dragging Darren out with me.

And then I saw him.

Raven.

His silhouette against the flames, calm, walking away as if the chaos around us was nothing but theater made for his amusement.

My heart pounded harder, not from the crash, not from the gunfire, but from the truth sinking in—he wanted me alive tonight. He wanted me to see this.

My fists curled.

“What are these evil people planning again…?” I muttered under my breath, eyes locked on him, my gut already twisting with the certainty that the night was only the beginning of something darker.

And then the sirens closed in. The police finally caught up, surrounding us with guns raised, their voices barking commands I couldn’t hear.

Because all I saw was Raven’s back disappearing into the dark.

The flashing red-and-blue lights finally dimmed as the police packed up their notepads and left us standing by the wreck. Darren had spoken with them calmly, flashing his ID like it was a badge of immunity. They nodded, muttered something about “continuing the investigation,” and one of them turned to Darren.

“We’ll be in touch if we need more details. Expect a call.”

Darren gave them that sharp, clipped nod of his.

“No problem, officers.”

The cruisers rumbled away, leaving behind only the stench of burnt rubber and twisted steel. I stood with my eyes on the front of the car—hood crumpled, bumper hanging like a broken jaw, radiator dripping its last breath onto the asphalt.

Darren walked back over, hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes scanning the ruin. He let out a low whistle.

“I don’t think this heap’s making it to my father-in-law’s place anymore.”

I swallowed, guilt pressing heavy on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice low, the words tasting like ash.

Darren shook his head immediately, waving his hand like he was brushing dust off his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay. The car doesn’t matter that much to me. It’s old anyway. I was going to change it later.”

He studied me then, his gaze narrowing in a way that made me uncomfortable. His voice dropped.

“Kael… what’s going on that you’re not telling me?”

I looked away, jaw tightening.

“This about those people after your life?” he pressed, brows furrowed.

I drew a long breath, steadying myself.

“Let’s just head to your father-in-law’s house,” I muttered.

He looked like he wanted to push, but instead he nodded. We climbed back into the car. The engine coughed, sputtered, but still dragged us forward. The drive was stiff and silent, the kind where thoughts thudded louder than words.

By the time we pulled up to the estate, the place was alive with movement. Cars lined the front like polished soldiers, doors swinging open as Mira’s elders spilled out, their suits pressed sharp, their expressions colder than stone.

As soon as we stepped out, Seraphine and her husband Julien came forward, her presence cutting like a blade. Darren dipped his head politely in greeting, but her eyes bypassed him entirely, locking straight onto me with venom that curled her lips.

“Who the hell gave this brat permission to set foot here?” Seraphine’s voice cracked through the air like a whip. “You dare come here, after the embarrassment you dragged this family through? Do you even still believe you have a right to stand among us?”

Her eyes glittered with hate.

“I never forget, Kael. And I promise you, I’ll make sure you regret that day.”

Her hand flicked, dismissive, venomous.

“Leave this house. Now.”

Before I could answer, a deeper, thunderous voice rolled from the villa’s front steps.

“And who the hell do you think you are, Seraphine, to send away my guest?”

Everyone turned. Mr. Lucien Delacroix himself strode out, his presence filling the courtyard, his cane striking against the marble tiles with authority.

Seraphine spun, stunned.

“Father—what? You invited him? Why?”

Lucien’s eyes flared.

“Do I need to ask for your permission, daughter, before I welcome someone into my own villa?”

Her face twisted, half fury, half disbelief.

“He’s an assassin! A disgrace! And you humiliate me in front of everyone for him?”

Lucien’s cane struck the ground hard.

“Better to host an assassin with honor than to have a daughter who spits venom without wisdom!”

Seraphine staggered back at the words as if he’d slapped her.

“You… you’d speak to me like this? All because of him?”

Lucien’s stare didn’t waver.

“If respect is something you demand, then learn to give it first. You shame yourself, not me.”

Her chest heaved, rage shaking her voice.

“Fine. Protect him then. But mark my words, Father—I will make Kael regret ever stepping foot here!”

She turned on her heel, skirts snapping in her wake as she stormed off.

“Seraphine—wait!” Julien called, rushing after her, but she ignored him, vanishing inside.

The courtyard went heavy and quiet. Lucien finally turned to me, his eyes softer than before, though still sharp with weight.

“Come inside, Kael,” he said firmly. “You are my guest. Let no one tell you otherwise.”

I drew a slow breath, nodding, and followed him past the threshold.

The dining hall shimmered with polished chandeliers. The fragrance of roasted duck and spiced wine hung in the air, but no one reached for their cutlery yet.

We’d all filed in—Darren, myself, and the rest of the Delacroix family—everyone except Seraphine and Julien who still lingered outside.

I sat beside Darren, his jaw tight, the weight of the evening pressing against him more than he would admit. Opposite us sat Mira’s siblings, whispering behind their smiles, eyes gleaming with that particular Delacroix superiority.

The chairs creaked as everyone settled. Conversation hummed lightly until Victor—the oldest son—cleared his throat and stood up. All eyes shifted to him.

“Before we begin eating,” he said with a flourish, “I have something for our father. A token, if you will, for a man who deserves the very best.”

He reached into a small velvet case and lifted out a gleaming watch—platinum, studded with diamonds so fine they caught the candlelight like shards of ice.

Gasps erupted.

“Magnificent.”

“That’s the latest model, isn’t it?”

“Victor never fails to impress.”

“Ah, so exquisite—only the best for Lucien Delacroix!”

The murmurs swelled, rich with admiration. Father Lucien leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly as Victor fastened the watch around his wrist.

Then another of the brothers rose, determined not to be outshone. He presented a rare vintage bottle of Château Margaux, its label faded with history but worth more than most people’s yearly wages.

“This,” he said proudly, “is from the year of your birth, Father. Priceless.”

Again, the room rippled with praise.

“Astonishing.”

“Only someone with true taste would think of such a gift.”

“A treasure fit for a king.”

One after the other, gifts followed—hand-tailored suits from Milan, a signed portrait from an artist renowned across Europe, a golden fountain pen said to have belonged to a French diplomat.

Each unveiling brought another round of applause, of murmured wows and gleeful exclamations. The air thickened with envy, pride, and that unspoken competition that seemed natural among the Delacroix heirs.

Then, one voice cut through the chatter.

“And what about Darren?”

Silence fell. Eyes swiveled toward him—sharp, calculating, cruelly amused. A few lips curved into smirks.

“What could he possibly bring?”

“He’s no Delacroix.”

“Probably nothing of worth.”

“A son-in-law cannot compete with true blood.”

The murmuring grew, low but poisonous. Darren’s shoulders stiffened, but before the mockery deepened further, I pushed back my chair and stood.

“My brother did have a gift for Father Lucien,” I said, my voice steady, my gaze sweeping across the table. “But on our way here… unfortunate circumstances prevented us from bringing it in.”

Laughter burst from Mira’s siblings, sharp and biting.

“Unfortunate circumstances, indeed.”

“Convenient excuse.”

“Pathetic.”

Their laughter echoed, but I didn’t flinch. I let it run its course, then raised my voice just enough to slice through the mockery.

“However,” I continued, “what we could not bring in hand, we bring in news.”

That silenced them. Even the clinking of cutlery stilled. Dozens of eyes fixed on me—curiosity, suspicion, disdain.

“What news?” someone murmured.

“What could he possibly mean?”

“He always talks as if he matters.”

Mr. Lucien’s deep voice rumbled, cutting through the whispers. “Let him speak. Go on, Kael.”

I inclined my head in respect before meeting Lucien’s gaze directly.

“Sir,” I said, “I am pleased to inform you that the contract with the Voss company is secured. Miss Seraphina herself has agreed to sign with Delacroix.”

The words landed like thunder.

The table erupted—shocked gasps, furious whispers, disbelief burning in every voice.

“Impossible!”

“That cannot be!”

“How could Seraphina agree to him?”

“There’s no way—no way Kael could reach her.”

I stood there holding Lucien’s eyes as the storm swirled. Because I knew this news was heavier than any watch, pen, or bottle of wine could ever be.