The StarPulse Entertainment parking lot was a corporate circus gone wrong. Ethan Black, the 20-year-old president with a $300M stake, had just dropped the bombshell that he was the new CEO, not some intern Vanessa Steele could bully. Greg Thornton, her VP "Uncle Greg," looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, his firing threats crumbling. Avery Brooks, the streamer who'd tried to save Ethan, gaped like she'd walked into a plot twist. COO Claire Hudson and her exec squad, expecting to roll out the red carpet, stood frozen, realizing they'd been spectating their boss's roast session.
Ethan's name—Ethan Black—hit Greg like a dodgeball to the face. "You're… you're what?" he croaked, his Rolex glinting as he clutched his chest.
"Ethan Black," Ethan repeated, slow and deliberate, like he was spelling it for a toddler. "B-L-A-C-K. CEO, president, guy who owns 30% of this place. Ring any bells?"
Greg's eyes bugged out, his brain short-circuiting. Claire, sprinting up with the execs, caught Ethan's words and nearly tripped over her own heels. "Ethan Black?!" she gasped, her tablet slipping. The execs behind her—StarPulse's top brass—froze like deer in headlights, their "welcome" smiles morphing into oh-crap grimaces.
Vanessa's jaw hit the pavement, her sunglasses already a casualty. "No way," she whispered, her TikTok-queen ego deflating faster than a popped balloon. Avery blinked, muttering, "I thought he was, like, a barista or something." Even she hadn't clocked Ethan as the mystery CEO, despite sticking up for him.
Claire's crew had Ethan's phone number from the ex-CEO, but no photo—hence the mix-up. They'd pegged Vanessa's pink Lambo and Avery's girl-next-door vibe, but Ethan? He was just a dude in a hoodie, not the billionaire they'd prepped PowerPoints for. Now, Greg's attempt to fire him was a career-ending fumble.
Vanessa, still clueless, nudged Greg. "Uncle Greg, what's the big deal? He's just some kid named Ethan. Fire him already!" Her voice was all bravado, but her shaking hands betrayed her.
Greg, sweating through his suit, gulped like a cartoon character. "Vanessa… shut it," he hissed, voice trembling. He turned to Ethan, barely audible. "You're… the new CEO?"
"Bingo," Ethan said, flashing his phone with the Monthly Pay $3,000, I'm the World's Richest contract—$300M stake, signed last night. "Claire, you got the memo, right?"
Claire, scrolling her inbox, nodded like her life depended on it. "It's legit, Mr. Black. 30% ownership, full exec authority." Her voice cracked, her "Super Bowl polish" plan in shambles. The execs whispered, some X-searching Ethan: Ferrari guy. NewWest Plaza mogul. Sophia Winters' piano prince?! The posts were hitting 30K likes, #EthanBlack trending.
Vanessa laughed, a nervous squeak. "This is a prank, right? Like, Ashton Kutcher's gonna jump out?" She looked around, desperate for cameras. Avery, catching on, smirked. "Girl, you punked yourself."
Greg's knees wobbled. "Mr. Black, I—I had no idea! Vanessa said you were hassling her, and I—"
"Hassling?" Ethan cut in, tilting his head. "She threw her Lambo keys at me like I'm her personal Uber. Then you tried to fire me. Real smooth, Greg."
Claire winced, muttering, "I'm booking a therapist after this." The execs shifted, some snapping sneaky pics for the office Slack. They'd prepped a boardroom with coffee and donuts to wow Ethan, not this parking-lot disaster. Greg's bias for Vanessa—his golf buddy's kid—had tanked their first impression.
Vanessa, finally grasping the mess, stepped forward, eyes wide. "Mr. Black, I'm so sorry! I thought you were, like, the help! I'm your top influencer—8 million followers! You need me!"
"Need you?" Ethan chuckled, tossing her keys again. They clattered to the ground. "I need people who don't treat their boss like a bellhop. You're on probation, Vanessa. One more stunt, and you're streaming from your cousin's garage."
Vanessa gasped, clutching her purse like it was her lifeline. "But… I'm the brand!" "Brands crash," Ethan said. "Ask MySpace."
The execs snorted, barely hiding it. Avery bit her lip, giving Ethan a subtle you're my hero nod. Claire, regaining her COO swagger, stepped up. "Mr. Black, I'm Claire Hudson, COO. We spoke yesterday. Welcome to StarPulse." Her voice was steady, but her eyes screamed please don't fire me.
"Nice to meet you, Claire," Ethan said. "But first, Greg. You're VP of Talent, right?" "Y-Yes, sir," Greg stammered, bracing for the axe. "Cool. You're demoted to Vanessa's manager. Keep her in check, or you're both out. And next time, maybe ask before you fire someone."
Greg nodded like a bobblehead, his Rolex dreams fading. Vanessa whimpered, her diva aura gone. The execs parted like the Red Sea as Ethan turned to Claire. "Let's see the office. And Avery—" he glanced at the streamer, who'd risked her job for him—"you're with us. I like people with guts."
Avery's eyes lit up. "For real? I'm in!" Her streamer fans would lose it when they heard she'd gone from underdog to CEO's ally.
As Ethan strode toward StarPulse's gleaming lobby, Claire scrambling to keep up, his phone pinged. Monthly Pay $3,000, I'm the World's Richest flashed a new alert:
[Challenge Update: Assert Dominance]
Status: 75% Complete. Wow the Board to Finish.]
Reward: AI-Driven Content Engine, $20.00 (Boosts StarPulse Revenue by 300%)]
[Warning: Syndicate Agent Active in StarPulse. Neutralize or Evade.]
Ethan's jaw tightened. The Syndicate—those black SUV stalkers—had an inside man? Maya Quinn's warnings echoed louder now. His $500M empire was a magnet for trouble, and this wasn't just about Vanessa's meltdown. He scanned the execs trailing him, their nervous smiles hiding who-knew-what. Trust no one, the game said. Except maybe Avery—she'd proven her loyalty.
Outside, the black SUV idled, its driver whispering into an earpiece: "He's entering the boardroom. Agent's in position. Await orders."
Inside, Ethan caught a flicker on a security cam—a figure in a StarPulse badge, lingering too long by the server room. The game wasn't playing. Neither was he.