Chapter 274: My Villain Calling

"That was good business, Mom!" I said, puffing up my chest like the Wolf of Wall Street met a Barbie commercial.

"That was concerning behavior from an eight-year-old!"

Charlotte snatched the phone like she was saving me from a public execution. "Mrs. Carter? This is Charlotte. I want you to know Peter’s been incredible. He’s the reason I’m not currently sobbing into a Dom Pérignon puddle."

"Charlotte?" Mom softened instantly, the warmth of a Hallmark special seeping through. "Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Those bastards at Rivera — excuse my language — are crucifying you! Are you okay?" Traitor, you did not ask how I am and you’re showering Charlotte with affcetion. Not fair mom.

"I’m managing, thanks to your son," Charlotte said, eyes giving me the ’you better not screw this up’ look. "He’s got it all planned."

"He’s got a plan?" Mom sounded part concern, part resigned terror. "Peter, whatever scheme you’re cooking up, it better be legal."

"Define legal," I said, tone teasing like a Bod villain hosting a tea party.

"PETER!"

"Relax, Mom. I’m kidding. Everything’s... technically fine. We’re just strategically dismantling false narratives while looking fabulous."

"Mrs. Carter," ARIA interjected, smooth and smug, "I’ve verified all legal parameters. Peter’s actions fall squarely within acceptable corporate defense strategies."

"ARIA, your ’acceptable’ still gives me a minor heart attack," Mom muttered. "You even suggested the twins start cryptocurrency."

"They’d make excellent crypto entrepreneurs," ARIA defended. "Emma has the social media influence. Sarah has the analytical mind—"

"They’re eighteen! Not hedge fund managers!"

"Age is a regulatory suggestion

Mom sighed, like someone summoning patience from another dimension. "Peter, promise me you’ll protect those girls. Both of them. And yourself."

"I promise," I said smoothly, like a man who already knew he was untouchable.

"Good. Speaking of school — there’s a new Vice Principal investigating the Trent Holloway situation. Lawyers say Emma’s settlement is moving forward, but this person wants to interview her when you get back."

I tensed. "Is Emma okay with that?"

"She says yes. Sarah’s prepping her. Tougher than they look, just like you should be."

"They get it from you," I said, a rare, sincere compliment.

"Don’t butter me up, young man. You’re still in trouble for dragging Madison to Miami during a corporate apocalypse. That girl’s parents must be wringing their hands raw."

I smirked, glancing at Madison. She looked guilty and thrilled at the same time — basically every Peter Carter-approved reaction to living on the edge. "Relax, Mom. She’s fine. And honestly, so am I. Chaos is my cardio."

Madison laughed, that reckless, "I’m-about-to-get-in-trouble-but-love-it" laugh. "My parents think I’m at a spa retreat, Mrs. Carter. Probably relieved I’m not hemorrhaging their money for once."

After she hung up, Madison refilled our glasses like a bartender in some absurdly overpriced Vegas suite. "Your mom knows you’re up to something."

"She always knows," I admitted. "Single-mom intuition is basically a superpower. She once knew I’d bombed a math test before I even walked in the door."

"How?" Charlotte asked, eyebrow raised.

"She said I ’walked guilty.’ Still have no idea what that means. But apparently, it’s terrifyingly accurate."

Miami sparkled beneath me like ground diamonds, each light representing clueless mortals about to get rearranged in my personal chessboard. "Let them all revel in their delusions. Tomorrow, we buy Quantum Tech at a fire-sale price. Next, the wives testify. Next month, Antonio won’t exist. Poof. Vanished. Like Bieber’s credibility circa 2014."

Charlotte joined me at the glass, reflection pale and fragile. "You really took a massive loss today just to set up a bigger win later?"

"I learned from the best," I said, thinking of every sacrifice Mom had ever made. "Sometimes you eat ramen for a month so your kids can have new school supplies. Sometimes you tank a reputation to annihilate an enemy permanently."

Madison looped her arms around us from behind, pulling us into some bizarre, triumphant hug. "We really are celebrating defeat with champagne that costs more than most people’s rent."

"Ironic, isn’t it?" I mused, swirling my glass. "But tomorrow, when Quantum Tech hits rock bottom, we’ll own enough shares to make Charlotte untouchable. Rivera will be buried in their lies, and Helena will think she’s won given our silence— right until she realizes the game ended yesterday, and she wasn’t even invited."

"Master," ARIA interrupted with her trademark chirp, "I’ve analyzed the psychological profiles of Rivera’s board members. Three are deeply in debt. Two are having affairs. One has a son with a sealed juvenile record for hacking government databases — highly skilled. We might want to recruit him. Shall I begin compiling leverage packages?"

"Jesus Christ," Charlotte muttered, equal parts horrified and impressed. "ARIA is terrifying."

"Thank you!" ARIA replied, bright as a supervillain’s grin. "It’s amazing what you can learn with access to every digital communication, financial record, and movement pattern. Privacy is such a quaint 20th-century concept."

My phone buzzed. Mom’s text: "Whatever you’re planning, be smarter than your enemies think you are and dumber than you think you are. Love you."

I smirked, spinning the glass in my hand. Smarter, dumber, unstoppable. Classic Peter Carter.

She didn’t get the fine print, but she got me.

"To defeat," I raised my glass one last time, voice smooth as stolen champagne. "The most expensive victory we’ll ever buy."

Glasses clinked. The Miami sunset spilled over the skyline like someone painted it with blood and gold — dramatic, over-the-top, perfect. Somewhere, Helena Voss was maybe popping her own champagne like she’d just won the Hunger Games. Rivera’s executives were counting profits, blissfully unaware that the game had already ended.

The professors? Probably shaking in their shoes, hoping their testimony hadn’t just signed their own résumés with death.

They had no idea: today’s loss was tomorrow’s triumph.

"ARIA," I said, quieter now, conspiratorial, like I was whispering secrets in a villain’s lair, "set market orders for Quantum Tech. Every time it drops a percent, buy a million dollars’ worth."

"With pleasure, Master," ARIA purred, tone like silk dipped in digital menace. "Shall I use accounts labeled ’Definitely Not Insider Trading LLC’ through ’Totally Legal Investments XVII’?"

Charlotte choked on her champagne, glittering like a porcelain doll realizing she’d just joined a murder plot in heels. Madison laughed so hard she nearly fell over — the sound loud, chaotic, perfect.

And me? I stood at the window, watching the city lights twinkle like oblivious pawns. Mom had always said I was too clever for my own good.

She was probably right.

But being too clever was about to make us all very, very rich.

No cap. Losing had never tasted so much like victory.