My Milf Conqueror System-Chapter 55: The art of war

I didn’t go up.

Walking into the lion’s den when the lion has just invited you for dinner is a rookie mistake. Instead, I told the driver to drive. We circled the block twice before heading back to campus, just to make sure Richard hadn’t decided to return the favor and tail me.

Back in my apartment, I plugged the flash drive into my laptop. My hands were steady, but my mind was racing. Richard knew. He knew about Sofia. He knew about me. He was steps ahead, playing a game I hadn’t even realized had started.

I opened the files.

At first glance, they looked legitimate. Spreadsheets of subsidiary performance, emails between CEOs complaining about Victoria’s leadership, projected losses for the next quarter. It was exactly what a mutiny looked like.

But then I looked closer.

I used [Analyze], a low-level skill I’d picked up during the Thorne investigation. It highlighted patterns, inconsistencies.

The dates on the emails were slightly off—sent on Sundays or holidays when corporate servers were usually down for maintenance. The projected losses were too uniform, too perfectly calculated to cause maximum panic without triggering an audit.

It was a fabrication. A masterpiece of corporate fiction.

If I had taken this to Victoria, if I had presented this as proof of Richard’s betrayal, she would have acted on it. She would have fired the CEOs listed here. And when the dust settled, she would have realized she had just fired her most loyal lieutenants, leaving the real traitors—Richard’s actual allies—untouched.

He had tried to use me to purge his enemies for him.

"Clever bastard," I whispered.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen. Richard Sterling wasn’t just protecting himself; he was counter-attacking. He was using Sofia’s ambition and my eagerness against us.

My phone buzzed.

Victoria Sterling: Lunch. Tomorrow. 1:00 PM. The Club.

It wasn’t a request.

The Sterling Club was old money personified. Dark wood, leather chairs, and the smell of cigars that had been smoked by men who owned railroads. Women were only allowed in as guests, a rule Victoria seemed to enjoy breaking every time she walked through the doors as the owner.

She was waiting for me at her usual table. She didn’t stand. She didn’t smile. She was reading a report on a tablet, her face a mask of concentration.

"Sit," she said without looking up.

I sat. A waiter appeared instantly, pouring water and disappearing like a ghost.

"Tell me you have something," Victoria said, finally setting the tablet down. Her eyes were cold, assessing. "Richard is making moves. I can feel it. The board is restless."

"I have something," I said carefully. "But not what you think."

I told her about the flash drive. About the fake mutiny. About Richard’s attempt to trick us into firing her allies.

Victoria listened in silence. She didn’t look surprised. She didn’t look angry. She looked... bored.

"So you found a trap," she said, picking up her fork. "Congratulations. You didn’t step in it. But you didn’t disarm it, either."

"I stopped you from making a mistake," I countered.

"I don’t want you to stop mistakes, Jake," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I want you to remove obstacles. Richard is still standing. He’s still plotting. And now he knows you’re watching him."

She took a bite of her salad, chewing slowly.

"You’re playing defense," she said. "I need offense. I need you to find something real. Something he can’t fake. A vice. A secret. A weakness."

"He’s careful," I said. "He’s smart."

"Everyone has a weakness," Victoria said dismissively. "Find it. Or I’ll find someone who can."

The threat hung in the air between us. It wasn’t just about the job. It was about the mission. If she replaced me, I failed. If I failed, I died. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"I’ll find it," I said.

"Good," she said, turning back to her tablet. "Now eat. You look thin."

The dismissal was absolute. There was no romance here. No seduction. To her, I was a tool that was slightly malfunctioning.

I ate in silence, the food tasting like ash.

I returned to campus in a foul mood. The pressure was mounting. Victoria was losing patience. Richard was mocking me. And the System was ticking down.

I needed a win. Any win.

I walked into the library, looking for a quiet place to think. To strategize.

"Well, look who it is," a voice drawled.

I looked up. Brad and Roger were blocking the aisle. They were grinning, that predatory grin of bullies who think they’ve found a victim.

"What do you want, Brad?" I asked, tired.

"We heard a rumor," Brad said, stepping closer. "About your scholarship. Word is, the administration is reviewing it. Something about... academic dishonesty."

My eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Plagiarism," Roger chimed in, looking delighted. "Turns out, your last paper on market dynamics was a little too similar to an obscure article from the 90s. Weird, right?"

I felt a cold knot in my stomach. I hadn’t plagiarized anything. But Brad’s father was a donor. He had pull.

"You planted it," I said.

"Prove it," Brad whispered, leaning in. "You’re just a scholarship kid, Jake. You’re here because they let you be here. And we can take it away whenever we want."

He poked me in the chest. Hard.

"Go back to the gutter, Hart. You don’t belong here."

Rage flared in my chest. Hot and sudden.

[System Alert]

[Hostility Detected]

[Combat Mode Available]

I could hit him. I could break his jaw before he even saw it coming. The System would guide my hand. It would be easy. Satisfying.

But then I thought of Richard. Of the trap he’d laid.

Brad was bait. He was trying to provoke me. To get me expelled for violence so the plagiarism charge wouldn’t even need to stick.

I took a deep breath. I forced my hands to unclench.

"You’re right, Brad," I said loudly, my voice carrying through the quiet library. "My paper was similar. Because I cited that article. In the footnotes. Page 12."

Brad blinked. "What?"

"And," I continued, pulling out my phone. "I also recorded this entire conversation. Including the part where you admitted to knowing about the ’review’ before it was public. Which implies you have unauthorized access to student records."

Brad’s face went pale.

"That’s... that’s illegal," Roger squeaked.

"It is," I agreed. "Federal, actually. FERPA violation."

I stepped closer to Brad, using my height advantage. I didn’t need to touch him. My [Authority] aura flared, just a fraction.

"So here’s what’s going to happen," I said softly. "You’re going to go to the Dean. You’re going to tell him it was a misunderstanding. And then you’re going to leave me alone. Forever."

Brad swallowed hard. He looked at Roger. He looked at the students watching us.

He crumbled.

"Fine," he muttered. "Whatever."

He pushed past me, Roger trailing behind him like a kicked puppy.

I watched them go. It was a small victory. A petty one.

But as I stood there, watching them retreat, a thought struck me.

Brad’s father was a hedge fund manager. He moved in the same circles as Richard Sterling.

Richard had known I was tailing him. He had known about the flash drive.

How?

Unless he had eyes on me. Eyes I wouldn’t suspect.

I looked at Brad’s retreating back.

Maybe Brad wasn’t just a bully. Maybe he was a pawn.

And if he was a pawn... I could use him to get to the King.

I pulled up the System interface.

[Skill Shop]

[Search: Surveillance]

I had 5,000 SP. It was time to go shopping.