Chapter 282: The Mocked Aliya (Edited)

Chapter 282: Chapter 282: The Mocked Aliya (Edited)

The afternoon sun blazed over the University of Veyra campus, casting long shadows across the brick pathways as classes let out.

Aliya and Fancy walked side-by-side toward the main gates, heading toward one of the popular dining spots just outside campus grounds. Fancy slung her handbag over her shoulder, letting out a dramatic sigh.

"I still can’t believe it," Fancy teased, nudging Aliya’s arm. "We spent all that time setting up trading accounts, topping up balances, and waiting like hawks thinking Jake was going to drop a public market signal! And what does he do? He just quietly dismantles the entire Newman empire behind closed doors instead."

Aliya laughed, shaking her head as she adjusted her jacket. "Don’t worry about the capital sitting in that account. Besides, if my brother doesn’t post public trading signals on his own, I’ll just make him drop a few for us later."

"Now that’s what I like to hear," Fancy grinned.

As luck would have it, just as the two girls stepped past the grand entrance gates of the university, a loud, aggressive rev of an engine echoed from the roadway. A glossy white BMW X3M pulled smoothly up to the curb right beside them.

The tinted automatic window rolled down, revealing Liv behind the wheel, wearing oversized sunglasses. In the passenger seat sat her best friend Natasha, who immediately leaned back, swirling an iced latte with a smirk.

Liv peered over the top of her sunglasses, taking in the fact that Aliya and Fancy were walking on foot toward the main street.

"Oh, hey guys!" Liv called out, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "Heading out to grab a taxi?"

Aliya stopped, keeping her face completely neutral. "We’re just walking to lunch, Liv."

"Right, right," Liv tutted patronizingly. "Well, don’t forget about the class reunion tomorrow night at the Meridian Crown! 19:00 sharp, okay?"

"We won’t forget," Aliya replied calmly. "Don’t worry about us."

Natasha let out a soft, snide chuckle from the passenger seat, leaning toward the window. "We’d offer you two a ride, but Liv literally just had the BMW detailed and steam-cleaned this morning. You know how it is—we can’t risk tracking dust into the interior!"

Natasha and Liv burst into snickering laughter together.

Before Aliya or Fancy could even utter a response, Liv adjusted her sunglasses, revved the engine loudly, and flashed a condescending smile. "Anyway! See you two at the Crown tomorrow! Try not to embarrass the rest of the group with what you wear!"

With a screech of tires, the BMW X3M sped off into the afternoon traffic, leaving behind a small cloud of exhaust.

Fancy stood frozen on the sidewalk, her jaw practically on the pavement as she watched the SUV disappear down the avenue. "Is she... is she serious right now? She really flexed a mid-tier crossover on you?"

Aliya blinked, momentarily speechless at the sheer absurdity of the encounter. Between her Mercedes-AMG G-Wagon and her Lamborghini Urus parked back at home, she owned vehicles that could buy Liv’s entire car three times over—yet she never felt the need to parade them around campus.

"She really is completely insufferable," Fancy muttered, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

A cold, sharp smirk slowly spread across Aliya’s face, her eyes glinting with the exact same ruthless amusement her older brother was famous for.

"Alright," Aliya said softly, turning to Fancy. "Now it’s on."

Fancy looked at her, matching the smirk. "Oh, absolutely."

"By the way," Aliya asked, crossing her arms, "do you have a dress ready for tomorrow night?"

"Please," Fancy scoffed playfully, waving a dismissive hand. "I bought a couple of custom dresses back when we were shopping in Geneva last week. I’m more than good."

"Perfect," Aliya smiled, her eyes narrowing as she looked down the road where the BMW had vanished. "Tomorrow night, we’re going to watch their mouths drop to the floor."

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Meanwhile, deep beneath the Zenith residence, the high-security subterranean private garage hummed with quiet power.

Two massive, climate-controlled enclosed transport haulers backed smoothly into the subterranean bay, their hydraulic ramps lowering with a sharp hiss of compressed air. A team of elite transport technicians in white handling gloves stepped down, moving with surgical care.

Jake stood by the reinforced glass entrance of the private elevator bay, dressed in a sleek charcoal turtleneck, a glass of iced mineral water in hand. Beside him, Alice held her tablet, overseeing the final delivery protocols with her usual quiet efficiency.

"Customs clearance took less than three hours after the wired transfer finalized," Alice reported smoothly, tapping her screen. "The private transport team escorted them directly from the airfield tarmac."

As the heavy protective covers were unbuckled and rolled back, the soft, ambient LED lighting of the garage caught the striking silhouettes of two mechanical masterpieces.

The first vehicle rolled down the ramp with absolute, whisper-quiet reverence—the hand-hammered nautical blue perfection of the Rolls-Royce Boat Tail Chassis 01. Its sweeping rear deck, finished in exquisite Caleidolelegno wood veneer, opened like butterfly wings under the lights. Every curve of its sculpted aluminum bodywork radiated pure, bespoke grandeur. Secured at the recent private international auction for 350 million marks, it stood as an irreplaceable icon of hyper-custom coachbuilding.

Directly behind it came the monster.

A menacing, low-slung predator glided onto the polished concrete—the deep sapphire carbon weave of the Bugatti La Voiture Noire. Under the overhead spotlights, the tinted blue carbon fiber shone with a dark, hypnotic sheen, its six rear exhaust pipes and seamless LED taillight bar framing an impossible profile of raw power and aerodynamic art. Acquired for a staggering 1 billion marks, it was the absolute pinnacle of hypercar engineering in the modern world.

The transport supervisor stepped forward, offering a formal bow as he presented two velvet-lined presentation boxes containing the master keys. "All checks are complete, Mr. Rivers. Both vehicles are in pristine condition."

Jake set his glass aside on a sleek stainless pedestal and stepped closer, his boots making a soft, deliberate tap on the polished floor.

He walked up to the Boat Tail first, running his fingertips gently over the seamless bonnet line. The hand-hammered aluminum felt remarkably smooth, almost warm beneath his hand, cool metallic precision refined into pure art. He leaned in slightly, breathing in the delicate, rich scent of bespoke leather and aged Caleidolelegno wood wafting from the open rear deck.

"The craftsmanship on this rear butterfly deck..." Jake murmured softly, admiring the exact millimeter-perfect symmetry of the polished wooden butterfly doors as he traced the grain. "It’s not just a car design. It’s a piece of art."

Stepping around the Rolls-Royce, Jake approached the Bugatti. The air around the La Voiture Noire seemed almost charged with mechanical tension.

He bent down slightly, inspecting the exposed sapphire carbon fiber. Under his touch, the tinted clear coat felt glass-smooth, yet beneath the surface lay the unmistakable, tightly woven structural strength of modern hyper-engineering. He ran his hand along the sweeping spine of the roofline, down past the aggressive dorsal fin, until his fingers brushed against the cool metal of the massive six-pipe exhaust array.

He stood up, resting a palm flat against the rear haul of the sapphire hypercar, feeling the quiet weight of a billion marks sitting effortlessly in his garage.

"They look even better in person," Jake said mildly, taking the key boxes from the supervisor with an amused, quiet smile playing on his lips. He tossed the Bugatti key fob casually in his hand, feeling its substantial weight. "Ensure the remaining company cars are transferred to Apex Plaza. The Garage is getting crowded."

"It’s already arranged, Mr. Rivers," Alice replied with a subtle nod, her eyes reflecting the breathtaking billion-mark view before them.

Before Jake could step back toward the elevator, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate, its unique ringtone chiming softly against the quiet hum of the underground garage.

Jake glanced at the caller ID, raised an eyebrow, and slid his thumb across the screen.

"Uncle Darius," Jake greeted smoothly, stepping away from the transport crew.

"Jake!" Darius Rivers’ voice boomed through the speaker, carrying a mix of hearty authority and genuine pride. "First of all, congratulations, my boy! I just finished going through the afternoon briefs. Dismantling the entire Newman Enterprise Group in less than forty-eight hours and absorbing their primary market assets into Golden Investments plus a partnership with the Sheele Group... brilliant work. Absolutely brilliant. You’re expanding your portfolio faster than the institutional analysts can write their reports!"

Jake let out a short, amused chuckle. "The Newmans simply overestimated themselves, Uncle. I simply collected what was long overdue. But thank you." He paused, swirling the Bugatti key fob between his fingers. "Though I doubt you called me in the middle of your busy schedule just to offer congratulations."

Darius let out a dramatic, exaggerated sigh on the other end. "Tsk. Look at you. Always so sharp, always straight to business! Can’t an uncle call his brilliant nephew just to catch up? You never call the family estate unless it’s strictly official, Jake. You know, your aunt was complaining just last Sunday that you haven’t talked to her in weeks."

"My schedule has been slightly tight," Jake replied mildly, a faint smirk touching his lips. "So, what’s the actual occasion?"

"Fine, fine!" Darius chuckled, his tone shifting into that of a seasoned corporate titan. "If you must know, the board just wrapped up our Q3 market valuation review. As of two o’clock today, the Meridian Group officially surpassed the 500 billion mark total market capitalization threshold!"

Jake’s eyes glinted slightly with interest. "500 billion? That’s a significant milestone."

"Significant? It’s historic!" Darius grumbled playfully, though the underlying satisfaction in his voice was undeniable. "And in case you forgot your own balance sheet, your 16% stake in the Meridian Group is now valued at a clean 80 billion marks. That’s a full 20 billion increase in your equity value in just a matter of a few months —and the stock is still rallying as we speak!"

"Not bad," Jake said evenly. "You’ve managed the Group’s core commercial assets exceptionally well, Uncle."

"Oh, don’t give me all the credit," Darius snorted softly. "The market is surging precisely because of you, Jake. Since Golden Investments is a privately held entity, retail investors and institutional funds can’t buy directly into your primary vehicle. So what do they do? They pour capital into the Meridian Group to ride your coattails! The market feels extraordinarily confident in every move you make. We’re directly benefiting from your shadow."

"A win-win for the family, then," Jake praised smoothly, his tone calm and measured. "Congratulations to you as well, Uncle. Your leadership continues to keep the foundation solid."

"Appreciated, Jake. Truly," Darius replied.

There was a brief, deliberate beat of silence over the line. Jake waited, knowing his uncle’s rhythm too well.

"Alright, Uncle," Jake said softly, breaking the pause. "Now tell me what you really called about. Stock valuations don’t make you hesitate like that."

Darius let out another long, weary sigh over the receiver, his voice dropping slightly as the corporate bravado faded, replaced by the tone of a tired patriarch.

"You really read people too well..." Darius grumbled, rustling a few papers on his desk. "Fine. I’ll be blunt. Jake... what do you think of Paul?"

Jake froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stood beside the billion-mark Bugatti.

Paul Rivers. Darius’s eldest son and Jake’s older cousin.

The question came completely out of nowhere, and Jake’s mind immediately began running through the internal political structure of the Meridian Group. A few years ago, Paul had been groomed for high executive office within the conglomerate, only for his reckless arrogance to nearly trigger a major compliance disaster. Darius had been forced to step in, quietly stripping Paul of his operational authority and benching him from the core board to save the family name.

’Is Darius seriously thinking about putting Paul back on the executive track?’ Jake thought, his expression turning cold and calculating. ’After everything it took to stabilize the Group’s reputation?’

"Paul?" Jake asked slowly, keeping his tone entirely neutral. "That’s a sudden question, Uncle. Is there a reason his name is coming up today?"

"I’m just asking as your uncle, Jake," Darius sighed softly. "He’s my firstborn. I want an honest, objective opinion from someone outside the immediate household. Someone whose judgment I actually trust."

Jake rested his elbow against the polished display pedestal, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp, pragmatic register.

"If you want my honest opinion, Uncle... I have never met Paul personally since we grew up," Jake stated flatly. "But in the financial and high-society circles, rumors travel fast. And frankly, none of the rumors regarding your eldest son are working in his favor."

Silence hung over the line. Darius didn’t interrupt, allowing Jake to continue.

"If we put aside the issue of him being scammed last time, I know about his failed expansion projects two years ago." Jake said, his tone devoid of personal bias, speaking purely in terms of cold capital. "I know about his reputation in the high-end private clubs, his reckless spending, and the way he treats lower-level executives. If you’re asking me because you’re considering re-introducing him to the Meridian Group’s executive board or placing him in a CEO pipeline again... my answer is simple: it would be a massive operational risk."

Darius let out a heavy, heavy breath on the other end of the line. For a moment, only the soft crackle of the encrypted connection could be heard.

"I knew you’d say something like that," Darius said quietly, sounding ten years older. "You see things in black and white, numbers and risk. Just like a true chairman should."

"I see things as they affect the bottom line and the family’s survival, Uncle," Jake replied calmly. "Why are you bringing this up now? Has Paul been pressing you to restore his position?"

"He came to the estate last night," Darius confessed, his voice laced with frustration. "He claims he’s changed, Jake. He says he’s matured, that he understands his past mistakes, and that he wants a second chance to prove himself within the Group. He even mentioned wanting to sit down with you to ’learn from the new generation’."

Jake’s lips curled into a cold, dry smile. "Learning from me, or trying to use my capital backing to rebuild his lost influence?"

Darius winced slightly, unable to refute the harsh truth in Jake’s words. "I haven’t promised him anything. I told him the Meridian Group is not a playground for second chances, especially not with the market watching our every move at a 500-billion valuation."

"That was the correct decision," Jake said firmly. "If Paul genuinely wants to prove he has changed, let him start from scratch in a third-tier subsidiary with zero family intervention. No executive titles, no unlimited corporate credit, and no safety nets. If he can turn a profit on his own merit without causing a public relations disaster for a full year, then—and only then—should you even entertain putting his name back in front of the board."

On the other side of the line, Darius let out a long, quiet laugh—this time filled with genuine respect.

"Savage as always, nephew. But practical. Absolute, unyielding practicality." Darius paused, rubbing his temples. "Alright. I’ll handle him. Don’t worry, I won’t let his ambitions compromise what we’ve built. Just... keep an eye out, alright? Veyra is getting smaller every day, and Paul has always had a fragile pride."

"If he stays out of my way, we won’t have an issue," Jake replied smoothly, his eyes reflecting dark and cold in the carbon fiber of the Bugatti. "Enjoy the 500 billion valuation, Uncle. You’ve earned it."

"Take care of yourself, Jake. Give my love to Aliya."

"I will."

Jake ended the call, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

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