Chapter 17: Spite
Now his balance stood at a ridiculous $1,810,000—yeah, he did the math. Started with $1.5M from the Copy and Paste jackpot, added the leftover $40K from his original $190K after that little $150K shopping spree, and then subtracted the $30K gym fee... only for the system to toss him another $300K like it was tipping a hot stripper for breathing.
He slid the membership card into his new black leather wallet—fresh, sleek, smelled like bad decisions and soft dominance—slung his gym bag over his shoulder, and headed toward the elevator.
Eyes followed him. Again. Still. Like they were stuck on a loop. Didn't matter if it was the receptionist biting her lip or some woman in heels pretending not to trip while staring.
Jayden didn't even flinch. He just smirked.
"Can't blame them. Legends don't walk through buildings every day. Honestly, if I wasn't me, I'd spend my whole damn life trying to get my attention."
****
[DING! Daily workout accomplished. Time: 2 hours of 1:30 minutes!]
Math? Trash. Results? Sexy.
Jayden didn't bother with the gym bathrooms like a regular peasant. Nah. He walked straight home—sweaty, glowing, and smelling like sin and sandalwood. Most dudes leave the gym smelling like regret and expired protein powder. Him? Women literally slowed their reps just to breathe near him. Some didn't even hide it.
One chick pretended to drop her water bottle just to squat near him like he wouldn't notice the sixth time. Por favor.
Bag dropped on the closet counter, clothes came off, and boom—his full, god-tier glory hit the room like thunder. Shame no one was around to faint. His reflection tried to look away out of respect. Cold shower? Absolutely.