Garnett
1 Published Story
Garnett's Book and Story
Unyielding Conqueror's Return
Modern Would you believe me if I told you that my uncle actually killed my parents? Yeah, I was just as shocked as you when I found out the truth.
My uncle, Cordell, was the one who raised me after my parents' untimely death in a drowning incident fifteen years ago. I was just five years old at the time. Since I had nowhere to go, Cordell took me in.
I thought he was my savior. But little did I know that he actually took me in just to cover up his crimes. Cordell killed my parents to take over the family estate!
My childhood was far from perfect. Cordell was such a cold-blooded man. He never cared about anyone else but himself.
When I finally came of age, I made boss moves by using my talent. My success began after I set up a biotech company at the age of twenty. In no time, I soon became a force to reckon with.
Cordell wasn't happy about this. To sabotage me, he accused me of rape and then took over my company. My reputation was ruined in the blink of an eye.
Beaten and battered, I fled out of the country in search of greener pastures. Five years passed by quickly. Those were the most eventful years of my life.
I, Randolph Truman, passed through a lake of fire and came out like refined gold. I finally returned home as the leader of the most formidable armed organization. My net worth ran into trillions!
A hundred thousand soldiers were at my command. I was on top of the world. People would surely respect me even if they didn't want to.
Unfortunately for Cordell, he hadn't gotten the memo. He mocked me when our paths crossed again. He called me a rapist and also encouraged others to ridicule me.
But the moment I unveiled my new identity to them, they all bowed before me, wept, and begged for my forgiveness. I felt like a king!
Should I pay Cordell back in his own coin? Wanna know what I did to him? You might like
Midas Protocol: Seducing My Rival's Wife
Breenda I sat in the freezing conference room, my knuckles white as I strangled a cheap plastic pen. Outside, Manhattan was weeping in the gray rain, but inside, the air was sterile and dead. I stared at the polished mahogany table, seeing the distorted reflection of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours—a man about to sign his own divorce papers.
Across from me, my wife Linda wouldn't even look at me. She was too busy drumming her fingers near a diamond ring that cost more than I had made in the last five years combined. Then the door swung open, and Simon Thorne walked in. The billionaire heir didn't say a word; he just walked behind Linda and placed a heavy, possessive hand on her shoulder, marking her as his.
"Let's wrap this up," Simon said, checking his Patek Philippe with the bored tone of a man ordering a coffee he didn't want. Linda finally looked through me like I was a ghost and told me to stop dragging this out. She whispered that I couldn't even afford myself anymore, a physical punch to the gut given I’d lost my job three weeks ago. After I signed, Simon flicked a business card at me, mockingly offering me a job as a doorman for minimum wage.
I walked out into the downpour, shivering in a suit I couldn't afford to dry clean. My phone vibrated with a text from my landlord: "Pack your things. Keys by tonight or I’m calling the cops." I stood on the corner of 5th Avenue with exactly $42.18 to my name, watching Simon kiss my wife through the glass wall of the penthouse. I was thirty, homeless, and drowning in a city of lions.
I wanted to roar until my throat bled, but I just stood there, a drowned rat in a world of predators. How could I have lost everything so fast? Why was the woman who promised to stay through "for poorer" now leaning into the arms of the man who just humiliated me?
Suddenly, my phone screen exploded with a blinding golden light. An app called the Midas Protocol installed itself, declaring poverty a disease and itself the cure. With one tap, a million dollars bypassed a federal hold and hit my account, and a "Nemesis Card" appeared in my digital inventory. I didn't hesitate. I typed Simon Thorne’s name into the vengeance algorithm and hit execute. The game had officially changed.