Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 44: Uncrowned King’s Playground

Chapter 44: Uncrowned King’s Playground

Escort services, connections, exclusivity—call it whatever the hell you want. Bottom line? These dudes would pay anything to be part of Black Veil.

And all Justin had to do was deliver the service.

These rich boys would pay out their asses just for a chance to be around the same girls Justin had under his thumb. Not that they lacked who to fuck. No, because they needed something exclusive that wouldn’t spell trouble if something were to go wrong something that would protect their identity while they indulged in the sins of their desires.

Solution?

Black Veil.

You think these trust fund guys cared about money? Fuck no. They’d drop ten grand in a heartbeat just for a moment with the girls Justin controlled. All Justin had to do? Open the doors and rake in the cash.

Sell the fantasy.

But the real money? The endgame? The fucking jackpot?

The parents.

These weren’t just parents. These were senators, CEOs, high-ranking government officials. The people who owned the fucking city and made decisions for the whole country. And they had weaknesses all he had to do was find which one he would exploit.

See, the girl he used to get over his obsession with Chloe wasn’t just some random chick. She was the best friend of the school’s queen bee. And more importantly?

Her mom was a ridiculously wealthy MILF.

And this girl? She was obsessed with him.

Like, batshit crazy obsessed.

The kind of obsessed that made her willing to do anything for Justin to just... acknowledge her. To claim her.

And all Justin had to do?

All he had to do was play along.

Make it official.

Give her just enough attention to keep her hooked. Give her just enough attention to keep her hooked—not too much, not too little, just the right amount of toxic manipulative fuckery to keep her obsessing over him.

And sooner or later? She’d be begging him to come over. To meet her mother.

And when that happened?

Oh-ho.

Mother. And. Daughter.

Justin grinned to himself.

A devil was cooking up plans.

His school was a goddamn treasure chest, filled with the richest, most powerful families in the city. Future CEOs. Future politicians. Future clients, assets, and powerhouses. And Justin? He was going to snatch every last bit of it.

Of course, Justin wasn’t delusional—he knew this wasn’t gonna be smooth sailing. This plan of his? It was gonna be one hell of a ride. A chaotic, messy, headache-inducing rollercoaster filled with power plays, favors, and the occasional dumbass trying to challenge him.

But that’s exactly where he thrived.

It might take weeks before everything in school was running the way he wanted. Maybe longer. Didn’t matter. What was time to a king building his empire? All he had to do was find the right people—people who weren’t just willing, but eager to be part of something bigger.

Could he do it alone? Obviously.

But why the fuck would he?

If Justin lacked anything, it wasn’t followers. The rich kids at his school? They weren’t just classmates—they were obsessed with him. Even the ones with generational wealth, kids of CEOs, government officials, and media moguls, gravitated toward him. It wasn’t just admiration, either. Some of them? They straight-up idolized him.

And it wasn’t just students.

Even some teachers would try to curry favor with him. Teachers.

How the fuck did that even happen?

Simple.

He was Justin Black.

Not because of some billionaire bloodline—hell, he wasn’t some long-lost heir to the Tesla empire or some shit. He built his influence from scratch. Aunt Selena? She had no idea the kid she raised had turned their school into his personal chessboard.

Because he hadn’t inherited power.

He took it.

The black luxury SUV glided into the estate, smooth as sin, pulling up to the entrance like it belonged there—which, obviously, it did. Before the car even came to a full stop, the doors swung open.

Justin stepped out, stretching his arms with a yawn.

Damn. Home at last.

The sun was already dipping below the horizon, throwing streaks of gold, orange, and deep purple across the sky, making the entire estate glow like something straight out of a painting.

At the entrance, maids were already lined up, waiting for him.

He didn’t even make it inside before grumbling—

"Sasha, I’m starving."

Not hungry.

Starving.

Fucking hell, he’d gone the entire day without eating. That was some level of self-torture.

Sasha, his personal maid, stepped forward. She was his age, and unlike the other staff, she wasn’t just some random worker—she’d been trained since childhood to serve him personally. Her mother was the head maid, and that meant she followed the rules to a T.

The moment she saw him, she bowed deeply.

Justin groaned.

"Didn’t I tell you to cut that formal shit?"

Sasha didn’t move. Instead, she leaned in, lowering her voice.

"My mom’s watching."

Justin’s gaze flickered up to the first-floor balcony.

Sure enough, there she was.

A woman in her late thirties, arms crossed, eyes sharp as a hawk. The Head Maid. She caught his stare and—to his surprise—offered a slight bow.

Justin smirked and nodded back.

Turning to Sasha, he whispered,

"I don’t give a fuck. You know the deal."

Sasha groaned under her breath. She knew exactly what that meant. She had to take the punishment..She muttered something about him being a menace, but Justin?

He just laughed.

At school, he was a king. At Black Veil, he was their Chairman and CEO, a businessman. A rising legend.

But here?

Here, he was just Justin.

And everyone in the house—from the security guards to the maids—had seen him grow up. They weren’t just employees; they were like family. They had no problem treating him like the teenage brat he could be. Which meant he could be as carefree and playful as he damn well pleased.

He looked at her and damn, like always—Sasha was trouble in a maid’s outfit.

Not the shy, demure type either—no, she had this fire in her eyes, this little rebellious spark that never quite went out, no matter how many times she had to bow or bite her tongue.

She had long, silky black hair, always tied up in a loose ponytail, but no matter how tight she tried to keep it, a few strands always slipped free, brushing against her smooth, sun-kissed skin. Her lips were naturally full, always holding back some sarcastic remark, and her dark brown eyes? They were sharp as hell, filled with just the right mix of mischief and attitude.

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