Pampering Discarded Heroines Triggers My 10,000x Rebate System

By eight o’clock Thursday morning, the news had already exploded across Veridia.

On the front page of the Metropolis Financial Gazette, two photographs were printed side by side under a massive, bold headline.

On the left was a grainy traffic camera photo from a months ot two ago. It showed Evren standing in the rain outside a greasy noodle shop in the outer slums, wearing a faded delivery jacket and holding a scuffed helmet beside a beat-up scooter.

On the right was a high-resolution photograph taken outside City Hall yesterday afternoon. It showed Evren stepping out of his car in a dark bomber jacket, walking alongside Vice-Chairman Amber Sterling.

Above the photos, the headline read:

FROM SLUM COURIER TO SOVEREIGN BILLIONAIRE: THE SHADOW EMPIRE OF APEX!

Imperial High Court Slaps 48-Hour AML Freeze on Chairman Evren! Over 100 Flagged Transfers! Did Outer District Delivery Rider Launder Cartel Billions?

Across the city, digital billboards flashed breaking news alerts.

At Horizon Plaza, the corporate switchboard was melting down. Raw material suppliers, logistics contractors, and equipment vendors were calling in a panic, demanding immediate cash settlements before bank accounts locked.

Inside the black armored car heading toward the city center, Evren looked at the newspaper folded on the leather armrest with a calm, amused smirk.

Beside him sat Attorney Sean Cole, Apex’s Chief Legal Counsel.

Cole was a sharp, fifty-year-old corporate litigator with silver-streaked hair, wearing a tailored pinstripe suit and wire-rimmed glasses. Across from them, Mikay was rapidly tapping his tablet, managing the incoming storm of supplier inquiries.

"The press leak was deliberate," Cole said, adjusting his cufflink. "Senior Auditor Meles wants commercial panic. If your suppliers refuse to deliver coal to the foundries and fuel to the port, Apex suffocates before the forty-eight hours are even up."

"Can he freeze our operational accounts today?" Evren asked.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Cole replied, tapping a thick legal brief on his lap. "The Provincial Commerce Court still has local jurisdiction over active labor and emergency utility covenants. That’s where we draw the line."

Ten minutes later, the armored car pulled up to the marble steps of the Provincial Commerce Court. A dozen reporters with flashing cameras and boom microphones pushed forward, shouting questions through the security line.

"Chairman Evren! Is it true Apex is funded by foreign rift cartels?"

"Will the Sector One miners get their pensions seized?"

Evren ignored the noise completely, walking up the courthouse steps with Cole, Mikay, and Director Bennett Keller, who had met them at the entrance.

Inside Courtroom Three, the atmosphere was tense.

Sitting behind the high judicial bench was Chief Provincial Magistrate Harrison, an older judge with tired eyes and a stern face.

To the right sat Meles’s federal legal attache, a smug young man named Advocate Henry, flanked by two armed federal marshals. Meles himself hadn’t bothered to show up, confident that his High Court warrant was untouchable.

Advocate Henry stood up first, bowing slightly to the bench.

"Your Honor, under Article Nine of the Imperial Financial Code, an AML Injunction issued by the Imperial High Court carries absolute executive authority," Henry stated arrogantly. "The Provincial Court has a legal duty to enforce an immediate, total freeze on all commercial accounts, bank ledgers, and operational funds tied to Apex Conglomerate. No exceptions."

Judge Harrison looked down through his spectacles, turning toward Apex’s table. "Counsel for the defense. Your response?"

Attorney Cole stood up, buttoning his jacket.

"Your Honor, Advocate Henry is selectively citing imperial code while conveniently ignoring Provincial Labor Statute Fourteen and the City Emergency Recovery Act," Cole began, stepping toward the center podium.

Cole gestured toward Director Keller.

"Apex Conglomerate directly employs eight hundred dockworkers in Sector Two, twelve hundred miners in Sector One, and over two thousand laborers across five heavy smelting foundries," Cole continued. "Their operational payroll accounts are pre-funded in official escrow, co-supervised by the Metropolis Commerce Bureau."

Cole locked eyes with Judge Harrison.

"If the federal task force freezes our operational payroll today, four thousand working families will miss their wages tomorrow morning. The port cranes will stop. The smelting furnaces will go cold. The entire supply chain of this province will shut down before sunset."

Advocate Henry scoffed. "Federal economic security overrides local payroll concerns..."

"Federal economic security does not authorize the economic murder of an entire province," Cole shot back sharply. "Auditor Meles has a forty-eight-hour mandate to investigate Chairman Evren’s personal acquisitions. He does not have the legal authority to starve four thousand workers before a single charge is proven in court."

Director Keller stood up, adding his official weight. "The Commerce Bureau formally endorses the defense’s motion. A total operational shutdown will trigger riots across three sectors."

Judge Harrison leaned back, his gavel resting in his hand. He looked at the federal attache with a hard frown.

"Advocate Henry, the High Court warrant targets Chairman Evren’s personal assets and capital origin," Judge Harrison ruled firmly. "It does not grant your office the right to paralyze this city’s labor force."

BANG.

The gavel struck the sounding block.

"The court grants a temporary Seventy-Two-Hour Operational Injunction," Judge Harrison announced. "All payroll escrow, port operating funds, and foundry utility accounts remain active and protected under municipal oversight. Chairman Evren’s personal accounts and acquisition reserves remain subject to the federal audit deadline."

Advocate Henry’s face turned bright red with fury. He snatched his papers off the table and stormed out of the courtroom with his marshals.

Mikay let out a massive sigh of relief. "We protected the workers, Boss. The port and mines keep running."

"Good work, Cole," Evren said, standing up. "Now we handle Meles."

By two in the afternoon, news of the court’s ruling had reached the Grand Veridia Hotel.

On the second floor of the luxury hotel, inside the quiet executive lounge, Senior Auditor Jonathan Meles sat at a private corner booth. He looked angry as he stared at the digital tablet showing the court’s operational carve-out.

"Incompetent provincial judge," Meles hissed under his breath, taking a sip of black coffee.

Across from him sat two federal marshals in plain clothes, watching the room.

Meles reached down beside his chair, lifting his black leather briefcase onto the table.

Sitting twenty feet away in the shaded mezzanine lounge, a young woman in a modest dark dress sat with a porcelain cup of tea... Zephyra.

She had spent the last three hours blending into the background of the hotel, watching Meles’s every habit, every movement, and every conversation. Her breathing was so light it didn’t even ripple the steam rising from her cup.

Through the gap in the wooden lattice partition, Zephyra’s sharp eyes were locked onto Meles’s hands as he reached for the briefcase’s brass latch.

Right beside the latch, set into the black leather, was a small circular glass sensor rimmed with brushed silver. Zephyra watched carefully as Meles pressed the pad of his right thumb firmly against the glass.

BEEP.

A faint green light pulsed beneath the sensor. With a soft metallic click, the dual side-tumblers disengaged, and the briefcase lid popped open.

Meles pulled out a folder, reviewed a document for ten seconds, signed it, and snapped the case shut.

CLICK.

The biometric lock engaged again.

Behind her porcelain teacup, a faint, cold smile touched Zephyra’s lips. She had found what she was looking for.

The lock was purely biometric. Meles carried no physical keys, and no magic cipher was involved... only the physical ridge pattern of his right thumb.

Meles checked his gold watch, closed his tablet, and spoke to the marshals. "I have a private dinner in the main banquet dining room at eight o’clock with the regional bank inspectors. Make sure the private booth is secured."

"Understood, Senior Auditor," the marshal replied.

Zephyra lowered her teacup gently onto the saucer without making a single sound.

Meles had dinner at eight o’clock.

And she had four hours to prepare.

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