Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 54: $200M Target (Inner Monologue)

Chapter 54: $200M Target (Inner Monologue)

You ever felt a force so wild it makes you question if you’re even real? Like, for a second, you ain’t just alive—you’re electric. That insane, skin-tingling, heart-racing, world-slowing type of rush that shoves you past every damn limit you thought existed. You get what I mean? No? Figures. Most people don’t.

Imagine this—you’re gripping the wheel of a Lamborghini, the engine snarling under you like a beast barely held back, tires screeching against the road. Every nerve in your body is wired into the moment, senses cranked up to max. That’s what I’m talking about. That’s the feeling. It ain’t just adrenaline—it’s something deeper, something raw as fuck.

Now, why the hell am I even telling you this? Easy. ’Cause I’ve been riding this high for 17 hours straight.

Seventeen. Fucking. Hours.

That’s seventeen hours of my mind refusing to shut the hell up, seventeen hours of me pushing past the pain of losing my parents, of waking up one day and realizing—oh, surprise, bitch!—I just inherited a whole-ass multimillion-dollar agency. And guess what? The whole damn country is watching.

Yeah, apparently, I’m the most searched teenager in the U.S. right now. Which, honestly? Kinda cool. Kinda terrifying.

And, oh, let’s not forget my favorite part of the day—walking into a boardroom full of crusty, smug-ass businessmen, each one old enough to have babysat my dad, and making them collectively shit themselves. I looked them in the eye, leaned in real close, and let them know that if they even thought about screwing me over, I’d air out every skeleton they’d ever stuffed in their overpriced closets.

And trust me—I know their skeletons. These dudes got dirt so filthy, even a whorehouse would turn them away.

But enough about those assholes. Let’s get to the fun part—’cause trust me, today’s been a goddamn rollercoaster.

I fucked a MILF today.

And not just any MILF—Martinez. Or Adams, as most people know her.

Yeah, that Martinez. The one who just so happens to be the leader of my agency’s board. The same board that’s been side-eyeing me all damn morning, doubting if I got what it takes to sit at the big boy table.

Best part? She’s also the secret daughter of the goddamn Mafia King. And not just any small-time, Sopranos-wannabe mobster—this dude is like a goddamn Lovecraftian nightmare, with his tentacles stretching through every major city in the U.S. Vegas? My town? His backyard.

Now, anyone sane and even half as manipulative as me—evil, calculative, and a little bit of a cocky asshole—can already see where this is going.

If you don’t? Well, this story might not be for you, my friend.

Wait, no—don’t leave yet. Let me break it down for the slow kids in the back.

With Martinez in my pocket—no, wait, scratch that—loyal to me, I’ve just unlocked the next level of my master plan.

I don’t just want a seat at the table. I want the whole damn table. Hell, I want the restaurant. And the city block it’s sitting on.

Which means?

I’m coming for the Mafia King’s seat himself.

And how am I getting in? Easy. Through his two biggest weaknesses—his wife and his eldest daughter cuz I already had an access door card for those two.

Now hold on, don’t start hyperventilating like a damn prude. I ain’t saying I’m about to seduce an entire mafia family like some insane porno plot. I mean, unless... No, no, stay focused.

Point is, the mother of the house and the eldest daughter? They’re the real power players behind the throne after the king himself. And if I can get them on my side? The King’s throne ain’t looking so sturdy anymore.

But wait—there’s more!

Because y’all ever heard of the Prime Minister’s daughter so far? Probably yes or maybe no?

Yeah. Add her to the list too.

Why? ’Cause I’m not some short-sighted dumbass looking for a quick win like only targeting the daughter. I’m playing the long game, and that means setting up every piece on this board until checkmate is inevitable—and you know whose the checkmate in this case.

But enough about that. Let’s talk about my real addiction.

This fucking feeling.

This high. This never-ending rush that’s got me speeding through the streets, tires burning, engine roaring, my entire body thrumming with energy. And sitting next to me? Holding onto me like I’m the most important thing in her world?

Chloe Reynolds.

Another woman I fucked tonight.

Yeah.

I know, I know—I’m a greedy bastard.

Actually, scratch that. Not a bastard. But you get the point.

And trust me, I’m just getting started.

Listen up, ’cause I’m about to say some real shit. And believe me when I tell you—

My dick is the most money-making body part in the goddamn world.

If there was a Guinness World Record for this shit, I’d be front and center with a trophy shaped like—well, you get the idea.

You think I’m joking? Let me spell it out for you.

Not only did my dick land me two absolute powerhouses who are about to run Black Veil like my personal hit squad, even when I’m not around—

But right now, I am sitting at a goddamn $85 million net worth.

EX-FUCKING-CUSE ME.

Read that again.

Eighty. Five. Million.

That’s not even the best part. ’Cause the woman sitting next to me? Yeah, Chloe Reynolds? She just promised me we’re about to bag an even bigger fish tonight.

A fish worth $100 million.

And all I had to do?

Conquer her. Of course she didn’t tell me all these details. How did I know? Remember I have fucking information harvester in my mind!

So... somebody, please, for the love of capitalism, shout Hallelujah, Daddy Justin!—wait, hold up. Leave out the Daddy part. That word’s been through enough. You know what I mean.

But let’s not lose focus. The point is—

My dick? Absolute goldmine.

And sure, I ain’t out here doing this solo.

I got my Black Veil System running in the background, pulling strings, crunching numbers, setting me up for success. Together? We’re about to take this whole damn world by storm.

And I promise you this—by the time the sun rises, my net worth is hitting $200 million.

Unrealistic?

Maybe.

Crazy?

Definitely.

Do I give a single, solitary fuck?

Nope.

I’m young, I got potential, and I’m taking everything I’ve ever wanted. You think I’m about to hold back?

Bitch, I don’t even know what that means.