Infinite Cashback System

Chapter 320: 320 | The Bitch Breaker Lawsuit [GT BONUS]

Kumiko left at one-thirty with three pages of moving notes, the pink notebook clutched against her chest like a religious artifact, and a smile so wide that her eyes disappeared into happy crescents. She promised to return at five with boxes. Jordan gave her exactly zero chance of remembering the boxes.

The door clicked shut and the apartment went quiet.

Chloe stood at the kitchen island with her phone face-down and her arms crossed, wearing Jordan’s grey henley and nothing underneath it that Jordan could identify, and she looked at him with the expression she wore when she had been holding something back for more than an hour and had decided, with clinical precision, that the timer had expired.

"We need to talk about Alexis," she said.

Jordan set his cereal bowl in the sink. The spoon clinked against the stainless steel, and in the silence that followed, the sound felt louder than it should have been. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his own arms in a mirror of Chloe’s posture that he didn’t realize he was copying until she raised one eyebrow at him.

"What about her."

"Don’t do that."

"Don’t do what."

"The voice thing where you go flat and pretend you’re not thinking about what I’m about to say. You’re already thinking about it. I saw your face at the restaurant when she was sitting with Harrison and her bulgogi was untouched."

Jordan’s jaw did the thing. He could feel it tighten laterally, the micro-clench that Chloe had documented in her file of his behavioral patterns, and he made a conscious effort to relax it, which only made it tighten harder. Chloe watched this happen and said nothing, which was worse.

"She’s being auctioned off to a guy she can’t stand," Jordan said. "That bothers me. It would bother anyone."

"It would bother anyone," Chloe repeated, stripping the sentence of its camouflage by saying it back to him in her neutral tone, the one that was never actually neutral. "That’s the answer you’re going with."

Jordan exhaled through his nose. He looked at the ceiling, which offered no tactical advantage, then back at Chloe, who offered none either. The problem with dating the smartest girl he’d ever met was that she was the smartest girl he’d ever met, and every conversation where he tried to finesse his way around an inconvenient truth lasted exactly as long as it took her to dismantle the first evasion.

"What do you want me to say."

Chloe uncrossed her arms and placed both palms flat on the counter. The henley rode up on one side, exposing the curve of her hip and the fading purple bruise where his thumb had been the night before, and Jordan looked at it for a full second before forcing his eyes back to her face. She didn’t miss the detour.

"I want you to say what you mean." She tilted her head. "You like her."

"I like a lot of people."

"Jordan."

"She’s trapped in a box her parents built and she can’t get out because the box is made of money and the lock is her trust fund. I’ve seen what happens to people when they make choices based on what other people expect instead of what they want. I lived it for four months. I watched myself spend forty-five hundred dollars on a girl who couldn’t remember my drink order because I thought that’s what love was supposed to look like."

Chloe watched him the entire time. Her face gave away nothing, but her fingers pressed into the quartz until the nail beds went white.

"And Alexis," she said.

"Alexis deserves to choose for herself. That’s it."

Chloe studied him for another three seconds, her blue contacts catching the window light and throwing it back at him like captured sparks, and then she made a small sound that was half a laugh and half something else.

"That’s about sixty percent of it," she said. "But I’ll take sixty for now."

"What’s the other forty."

"You’ll figure it out." Chloe pushed off the counter and walked past him toward the couch, and as she passed, her hand found the side of his jaw and held it there for a beat, warm palm against the muscle she could apparently read like a barometer. "She’s been wearing your henley to bed for two weeks and she posted it on Instagram with thirty thousand likes and a caption about comfort. You know what that means."

"That she stole my shirt."

"That she’s advertising." Chloe dropped onto the couch and tucked her feet under her. "I ran an OF account for six months. I know what it looks like when a girl puts something on camera that she wants the world to see."

Jordan sat on the arm of the couch. Below him, Chloe pulled the pink cat charm from between the cushions where Kumiko had left it, and she turned it over in her fingers with the distant focus of someone running numbers behind their eyes.

"The System has a quest involving Eliza," Jordan said, because the honesty policy was still active and he’d rather bring the grenade to Chloe himself than have her find it in his pocket.

Chloe’s head turned. Her eyes narrowed into slits that could have cut glass.

"Explain."

He explained. The Bitch Breaker quest, the objectives, the restrictions that prohibited him from pursuing Eliza and required her to initiate every escalation. The thirty-day timer. The rewards that included a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, fifty tickets, a platinum gacha, and a permanent ten percent chemistry boost across all registered women. Chloe listened without interrupting, her expression moving through exactly three phases: shock that lasted two seconds, analytical processing that lasted ten, and something cold that settled into her jaw and stayed.

"A hundred and fifty thousand dollars," she repeated.

"And the Bitch Breaker upgrade."

"The Bitch Breaker." She closed her eyes. "Your magic phone has a skill called Bitch Breaker."

"It’s a trait."

"It’s a lawsuit."

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