Outside StarPulse Entertainment's glitzy Westfield HQ, the corporate showdown was heating up faster than a reality TV finale. Ethan Black, freshly minted president with a $300M stake, faced off against Vanessa Steele, the TikTok diva who'd mistaken him for a valet, and Greg Thornton, her VP "Uncle Greg" ready to flex his firing powers. Avery Brooks, the kind-hearted streamer, stood by Ethan, her attempt to defuse Vanessa's tantrum backfiring. The execs, led by COO Claire Hudson, watched in horror, realizing Ethan was no intern—he was their boss.
Claire's crew had expected to greet Ethan with coffee and handshakes, not a parking lot brawl. The former CEO left them Ethan's phone number, not his headshot, so they'd clocked Vanessa and Avery but missed the guy in jeans and a hoodie who owned 30% of their company. Now, Greg was about to fire the one person they needed to impress.
Greg stormed over, glaring at Ethan, Vanessa smirking behind him. "What's the deal?" he barked, itching to squash this mess before Ethan arrived. "You punks causing trouble at my company?"
"Your company?" Ethan raised a brow, amused. "That's news to me."
Vanessa pounced, pointing at Ethan and Avery. "Greg, they disrespected me! I'm StarPulse's queen—8 million followers! This nobody refused to park my Lambo, and she—" she jabbed a finger at Avery, "—sassed me. Fire them!"
Avery's eyes flashed. "That's not what happened! Vanessa was throwing a fit, and he just stood up for himself. You're twisting it!"
Greg waved her off like she was a mosquito. "Save it, Brooks. I know Vanessa's a handful, but she's our cash cow. You two? Replaceable." He turned to Ethan, puffing up like a discount mall cop. "You're done, kid. Clear out."
Vanessa grinned, tossing her hair like she'd just won an Oscar for drama. "Told ya. One call, and you're toast."
Avery's fists clenched. She'd been canned once for standing up to a bully boss—déjà vu was hitting hard. "Greg, this is BS. He's new, and Vanessa's acting like she owns the place!"
"Newsflash, sweetheart, I do," Vanessa snapped. "Keep talking, and you're next."
Ethan, calm as a Zen influencer on a yoga retreat, stepped in front of Avery. "Easy, Avery. I got this." He shot her a wink, then faced Greg. "You're real quick with the pink slips, huh? What's your job here, Greg?"
"VP of Talent Relations," Greg growled, "and I don't answer to rookies. You're fired, kid. Pack your Pokémon cards and bounce."
"Pokémon cards?" Ethan chuckled. "Man, you're stuck in 1999. Here's a tip: check your org chart before you fire your boss."
Greg blinked. Vanessa cackled, thinking it was a bluff. Avery's jaw dropped, her brain buffering. Claire, catching the tail end, pushed through the execs, her heels clicking like a ticking bomb. "Greg, shut it!" she hissed, but it was too late.
"Boss?" Greg scoffed. "What's your name, wise guy?" "Ethan Black," Ethan said, cool as a cucumber.
The name hit Greg like a bad burrito. His face went from red to ghost-white, eyes bugging out like he'd seen a jump-scare. "Ethan… Black?" he stammered, voice cracking. "As in…"
"Your new president," Ethan finished, pulling out his phone. He swiped to the game's contract, timestamped last night, and held it up. "Claire, you got the email, right? $300M stake, signed and sealed."
Claire, now at the front, checked her phone, her expression screaming I need a vacation. "Confirmed," she croaked. "Mr. Black owns 30% of StarPulse. He's… the boss."
The execs gasped, some whipping out phones to X-search Ethan. Ferrari guy. NewWest Plaza king. Sophia Winters' duet partner?! Vanessa's sunglasses hit the pavement with a clink, her smirk gone. Avery's mouth formed a perfect "O," muttering, "No freaking way."
Greg's knees wobbled. "Mr. Black, I—I didn't know! Vanessa said you were some punk intern!"
"Intern?" Ethan tilted his head. "That's what you get for believing TikTok royalty over facts. Vanessa, you're on thin ice. One more diva stunt, and you're streaming from your mom's basement. Greg, you're her handler now. Keep her chill, or you're both out."
Vanessa's face crumpled like a bad filter crash. "But… but I'm Vanessa Steele! I'm the brand!" "Brands fade," Ethan said, tossing her Lambo keys for the third time. "Park your own car."
The execs bit back laughs, a few snapping pics for the office group chat. Claire shot Greg a death glare, muttering, "You're lucky he didn't fire you on the spot." Avery, still processing, gave Ethan a wide-eyed nod, her respect skyrocketing. This guy's a legend.
Claire cleared her throat. "Mr. Black, shall we start the tour? Boardroom's ready." "Lead the way," Ethan said, striding past the stunned crowd. But his phone buzzed with a new alert from Monthly Pay $3,000, I'm the World's Richest:
[Challenge Update: Assert Dominance]
Status: 50% Complete. Impress the Board to Seal It.]
Reward: AI-Driven Content Engine, $20.00 (Boosts StarPulse Revenue by 300%)]
[Warning: Syndicate Agent Detected in StarPulse. Watch Your Back.]
Ethan's grin faded. The Syndicate—those black SUV creeps—had someone inside? Maya Quinn's cryptic warnings rang in his head. His $500M empire was a bullseye, and this wasn't just about Vanessa's ego. He glanced at Avery, who'd stuck her neck out for him. "Hey, Avery, stick around. Got a feeling I'll need someone I can trust."
Avery blinked, then nodded, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "You got it, boss."
As Ethan entered StarPulse's gleaming lobby, Claire whispering apologies, a shadow moved in the parking lot. The black SUV, engine idling, watched from a distance. Its driver tapped an earpiece: "Target confirmed. He's in."