My Milf Conqueror System-Chapter 29: NICE TRY...

The library basement became my war room.

Nia had commandeered a private study pod, blocking the glass walls with posters of old sci-fi movies so no one could see inside. The table was covered in textbooks, energy drinks, and a whiteboard filled with financial formulas that looked like alien hieroglyphics.

"Okay," Claire said, slapping a ruler against the whiteboard. "Focus, Jake. What is the difference between a leveraged buyout and a management buyout?"

I rubbed my eyes. "In an LBO, the acquisition is funded by debt secured against the target’s assets. In an MBO, the existing management team buys the company, usually with private equity backing."

"Correct," Claire said, erasing the board. "Now, calculate the WACC for a company with a 60/40 debt-to-equity ratio and a beta of 1.5."

"I hate WACC," I muttered, grabbing a calculator.

"Thorne loves it," Nia piped up from her corner, not looking away from her screens. "He used it to justify gutting three tech startups last year. Speaking of Thorne, his PI is getting closer. Varga just pinged the university’s alumni database. He’s looking for your graduation records."

"Which don’t exist," I said, punching numbers.

"Exactly. So I created a dummy file. It says your records are ’sealed pending administrative review.’ It buys us time, but not much."

Darius was sitting by the door, reading a textbook on corporate law. He looked up. "This Varga guy. Is he dangerous?"

"He’s ex-FBI," Nia said. "He doesn’t break legs. He breaks reputations. He’ll find out your dad drives a truck in Jersey before he finds out you’re dating Sofia."

My stomach tightened. My dad. If Thorne went after my family...

"Focus," Claire snapped, tapping the ruler again. "If you fail this exam, Varga won’t need to find anything. You’ll be expelled."

"Right. WACC. 8.5 percent."

"Wrong. You forgot the tax shield."

I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. "I can’t do this. It’s three years of material in three days."

"You have to," Ethan said, walking in with a tray of coffees. "Because if you don’t, Brad wins. And I really don’t want to live in a world where Brad wins."

He set a coffee down in front of me. "Drink. It’s a triple shot."

I took a sip. It tasted like battery acid and hope.

"Thanks, man."

"Also," Ethan added, "Sofia just texted me. She wants to know if you’re alive."

"Tell her I’m studying."

"She said to tell you: ’Don’t be a hero. Be a shark.’"

I smiled weakly. "Easy for her to say. She’s already the shark."

The next 48 hours were a blur. I slept in twenty-minute bursts on a beanbag chair in the corner. I ate protein bars and drank enough caffeine to kill a horse.

The System was helping, flashing definitions and formulas in my peripheral vision, but my brain felt like it was melting.

[Mental Fatigue: Critical]

[Intelligence Boost: Active (Duration: 2 hours)]

[Stress Level: 95%]

By the third night, I was hallucinating balance sheets.

"Jake," Claire said softly. It was 3 AM. "You need to sleep. Real sleep. The exam is in six hours."

"I don’t know the derivatives section," I mumbled, staring at a page that was swimming.

"You know it," she said, taking the book from my hands. "You’re just exhausted. Go home. Shower. Sleep for four hours. We’ll wake you up."

I looked at my team. Nia was asleep on her keyboard. Darius was doing pushups in the corner to stay awake. Ethan was building a tower out of empty Red Bull cans.

They were exhausted too. But they were here. For me.

"Okay," I said. "Four hours."

I walked back to my dorm in the pre-dawn silence. The campus was ghostly quiet.

As I unlocked my door, I saw an envelope slid underneath.

It was thick. Cream-colored paper. No return address.

I opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper. A printout of a bank transfer.

From: Aldridge Enterprises

To: Jacob Hart

Amount: $50,000

Memo: Consulting Services

It was fake. A forgery. I had never taken a dime from Sofia directly.

But at the bottom, handwritten in red ink:

Is this what you want the Ethics Committee to see? Resign from the Sterling Committee. Or this goes public.

- A Friend

Thorne. Or Varga.

They were fabricating evidence.

I stared at the paper, my hands shaking. If this came out, it wouldn’t matter if I passed the exam. It would look like a payoff. Like I was Sofia’s kept man, placed on the committee to funnel university money to her projects.

It was a kill shot.

I pulled out my phone. I needed to call Sofia. I needed to call Elena.

But then I stopped.

If I called them, I was asking for help. I was the damsel in distress.

Thorne wanted me to panic. He wanted me to run to my "sugar mommies" so he could catch us all in the same net.

I crumpled the paper in my fist.

I wasn’t going to run.

I walked over to my desk, pulled out a lighter, and set the corner of the paper on fire. I watched it burn in the metal trash can until it was nothing but ash.

"Nice try, Marcus," I whispered.

I went into the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and looked in the mirror.

My eyes were bloodshot. I looked like hell.

But I was still standing.

I had four hours to sleep. Then I had an exam to crush.

And then?

Then I was going to find Varga. And I was going to show him what happens when you threaten a guy who has nothing left to lose.

[Resolve Check: Passed]

[New Trait Unlocked: Iron Will]

[Effect: Immunity to Intimidation attempts for 24 hours.]

I set my alarm.

6:00 AM.

Game time.