Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 319: Parker’s Goal(End)

By the time they made it out of the walk-in closet, both of them looked dangerously attractive and mildly unhinged. Tessa had gone with a loose silk blouse that screamed "casual rich witch," while Parker settled on a dark grey shirt that could legally be classified as a thirst trap.

Not that he'd admit it.

"Damn, we look like we're about to ruin someone's marriage," Tessa said, tossing her hair.

"Let's make brunch awkward," Parker replied, grabbing her hand like they were co-conspirators in a petty crime.

Downstairs, the kitchen was already alive. Music played low from some hidden speaker system in the living room, a chill beat that gave the mansion that "cool rich people live here" energy. Elena was done casually tossing massive grocery bags onto the counter like they were filled with air and not enough supplies to feed a damn army.

She noticed Parker first—her spine straightened, just slightly. Subtle, but there. That unspoken shift when the boss entered the room.

"Morning, sir," she said, tone respectful—but not stiff. Just enough authority under the teasing edge to remind everyone who wrote the checks around here.

Tessa leaned in. "You see that? Even Elena gets serious when you walk in."

"She fears me," Parker deadpanned.

"She could fold you like laundry," Tessa replied.

Parker tilted his head. "So could I. With payroll."

Elena snorted. "Try docking my pay and I'll poison your smoothie."

"Only fair," he muttered, reaching for a mug.

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Naomi strolled in next, yawning and stealing half a muffin before anyone could blink. "Why do y'all look like models who just got done sinning?"

"Because we did," Tessa said sweetly.

Naomi blinked. "I—okay... gross!"

But even Naomi, wild card that she was, gave Parker a small nod as she leaned against the counter. Respect. Not wrapped in sarcasm, laced in chill, but still there. She wasn't just vibing with a hot dude—she worked for a shark in human skin who happened to be her boss and the owner of everything she was currently touching.

Naomi had the highest loyalty check here even perhaps higher than Tessa but you wouldn't know from just observing her.

Meanwhile, Parker was already pouring coffee like it was holy water, trying to ignore the very real threat of Tessa biting his shoulder again because "you're too cute it's offensive."

She did it anyway.

He yelped, spilled some coffee, and glared. "You savage."

She kissed the spot. "You love it."

Naomi fake gagged and Elena straight-up grabbed a kitchen towel to throw at them.

"You two are the worst," she said.

"We try our best," Tessa said, bowing dramatically.

And somehow—some damn how—they all ended up sitting around the counter, eating like college kids who just happened to live in a billionaire's mansion. Pancakes got stacked, jokes got louder, and Parker got roasted five times in under ten minutes. Every now and then, Tessa leaned into his side, and he'd pretend to be annoyed but secretly melt like butter.

But even in that chaos, even in that sticky sweetness and teasing, Parker's presence carried weight. He laughed. He leaned. He stole bacon from Naomi's plate like a delinquent.

But when he spoke, people listened.

Not because he was loud, but because he didn't have to be.

The mansion, for all its size and luxury, didn't feel cold. Not today. Not with music playing and laughter echoing and someone yelling "who the hell used the gold spoon to stir peanut butter?!"

It was chaos.

It was clingy.

It was warm.

And it was home for Parker. The warmest home he never had as he grew up in this life. So he'd created one—Parker had started building his own warm family even though he himself knew he was emotionally unstable and anything would set him off.

But he didn't want this warmth to fed away.

It was something Tessa taught him and he had embarrassed it even with the temptation of the 'Dark Parker when they were reliving their lives memories.

That warmth was his guide and he wanted to keep it.

At least to those he called family!

Parker had barely taken two sips of his coffee when Tessa grabbed his sleeve.

"Let's eat outside. It's too pretty to be inside. And you look like a sun-thirsty vampire."

"I was once a vampire," he muttered, standing up anyway.

"El vampiro sexy," Naomi whispered, holding her muffin like it was sacred.

Then, because the universe had a sense of humor, Atalanta strolled in from the side hallway, glowing like she'd just conquered Olympus, dressed in a sports bra and leggings. She had that smug, post-run energy—the kind that silently judged everyone who hadn't already suffered through five miles before breakfast.

"Oh wow, look at this domestic circus," she said, smirking as she tied her golden hair up into a messy bun. "Didn't know billionaires did group brunch."

"Only if the food's good and the jokes are mean," Parker said.

Atalanta narrowed her eyes. "You're safe. Barely." She spotted Elena moving eggs like a chef possessed and gave her a nod. "Battle maid. Always a pleasure."

"Goddess of cardio," Elena replied dryly.

"I missed you too."

Naomi yawned. "Are we moving or what? I want sun, and I refuse to be seen eating indoors like a broke college student."

Parker just gestured toward the glass doors. "Lead the way, dark princess."

They followed a stone pathway past fountains and trimmed hedges, the estate's insane size making the walk feel like a casual morning stroll through a private resort. The farther they went, the more the scenery flexed—sleek marble, soft lounge seating, and a terrace space so ridiculously aesthetic it belonged in a movie where someone gets dumped in Paris and then wins the stock market out of spite.

A pristine white table sat under a pergola draped with vines, overlooking a glassy lake that probably had koi fish worth more than some people's cars. The air smelled like fresh basil, sun-warmed stone, and wealth.

Elena immediately honed in on the outdoor kitchen, inspecting the grill like she was about to put it in a headlock. "I'm eating here even next time."

They sat. Plates filled. Fancy orange juice poured. The morning settled into a golden-lit, easy chaos. Tessa dragged Parker's chair closer to hers until their thighs touched.

"You're not slick," he said, smirking.

"Didn't say I was. Just clingy," she replied, stealing his pancake.

Naomi, now in oversized sunglasses that screamed I party harder than I study, sipped her iced coffee while texting someone who was probably dangerous.

Atalanta, lounging sideways like a queen judging the masses, finally looked up. "By the way, we're sparring later."

Parker raised a brow. "No pre-fight theatrics?"

"Not in the mood. I just wanna punch something."

Tessa arched an eyebrow. "He's booked. With me. For… stuff."

Atalanta snorted. "Your version of cardio isn't real cardio."

Naomi looked up. "It burns calories. I Googled."

Parker just ate in silence, a man caught between two war generals with elite hair.

Elena set down another plate and muttered, "Next time I'm making breakfast for the neighbors. They're quieter." Did she even know who her neighbours were.

And that was brunch—loud, sunlit, chaotic, with pancakes flying and insults echoing off marble. No one cared about power, or status, or the weight of their names. Just moments. Ridiculous, sweet, clingy moments.