Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire-Chapter 9: A Legitimate Excuse

’It should’ve been me.’ Zane was still wishing he were the one in Stan’s Shoe while across town at the Sweet Peach Hotel, Stan and Sarah were already seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

The food had arrived, steam curling off delicate porcelain plates, the kind of presentation that belonged on a magazine cover, but Sarah hadn’t touched a single bite.

Her gaze was fixed entirely on him.

Those soft, watery eyes held a kind of quiet intensity that made Stan’s pulse quicken in spite of himself.

She really did live up to her reputation as Peak University’s campus belle. A look alone almost made him lose his composure.

Her face was flawless in the warm restaurant light, delicate features, porcelain skin, lips full and red and slightly parted, the kind that looked soft enough to bruise.

For half a second, Stan caught himself imagining what it would feel like to lean across the table and kiss her. The urge to do that was crazy, but he held himself, after all there was no rush.

He blinked the thought away.

"Stan..." Sarah said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The money you lent me, I’ll pay it back. Slowly, but I’ll pay it all back. I promise."

"Don’t mention money," Stan said quickly, forcing a casual smile. "It makes us sound like strangers."

What he really meant was, please, for the love of everything, don’t actually send it back.

The thought of that billion-dollar penalty still haunted him. The system had been terrifyingly clear about the consequences, and terrifyingly silent about the edge cases.

’Surely,’ he reasoned, ’if she sends it back without me asking, against my explicit wishes, the system would have to take that into account. Right? Otherwise the rule makes no sense.’

The system offered no reply.

Which meant he wasn’t about to test it.

Sarah, meanwhile, was quietly melting.

Ten million dollars. No promissory note. No contract. No pressure to repay. And now here he was, brushing off the whole thing like it was pocket change between friends.

Who does that?

He was just too generous.

She found her eyes drifting over his face without meaning to, the sharp line of his jaw, the calm set of his mouth, the easy confidence in the way he held himself. When had he started looking this handsome?

Something warm stirred in her chest, unbidden.

[Sarah: Favorability 30]

[Sarah: Favorability 35]

[Sarah: Favorability 40]

[Sarah: Favorability 45]

Stan caught the rising numbers out of the corner of his eye and almost smiled.

’So she likes hearing this kind of thing.’

He leaned in slightly, voice steady. "I mean it, Sarah. If you’re ever in trouble, forget ten million. I’d lend you twenty without blinking."

[Sarah: Favorability 47]

’Almost there.’ He could feel the threshold coming.

He held her gaze, softening his tone into something more earnest. "I don’t have much in this world. But whatever I do have, if you need it, it’s yours. I don’t care how much it costs."

[Sarah: Favorability 60.]

[Favorability has exceeded 50. The next expenditure will receive a 5x rebate.] 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Stan’s breath caught for half a second. Five times.

Across the table, Sarah’s cheeks had gone pink. Feeling a bit bashful, she lowered her gaze, suddenly finding it difficult to look at him directly.

’He’s saying all of this while looking at me like that,’ she thought, heart thudding against her ribs. ’After everything he’s already done, the ten million, no questions asked, no strings attached...’

’Is he in love with me?’

It had to be that. There was only one explanation that made sense. He had to be in love with her.

No one gave away that kind of money for any other reason. Ten million dollars isn’t something one can give out from pure generosity, at least that’s what she thought. It was a confession written in a language only the rich could afford to speak.

And she was starting to think she might be ready to hear it.

Stan wasn’t listening to Sarah’s racing thoughts. He wasn’t thinking about her blush, or her lips, or the way her eyes had softened across the table.

He was thinking about one thing, how to spend money on her.

A five-times rebate was not an opportunity he could afford to miss. And it couldn’t be a small amount, either, half-measures would be a waste of the multiplier. It needed to be a large sum. A significant sum.

But it had to make sense.

Simply shoving another ten million at her across the dinner table for no reason wouldn’t work. Random generosity had a way of reading as desperation, and desperation didn’t raise favorability, it lowered it. Women noticed when things didn’t add up.

He needed a legitimate excuse. A reason that made everything feel natural. Something she couldn’t refuse.

He was still turning the problem over in his head when the restaurant doors opened.

...

Outside in the lot, a small cluster of men in black leather jackets and dark sunglasses had been standing beside a row of matte-black cars, speaking in low voices.

They had been watching the table through the glass for several minutes. Whatever they were discussing came to an end, one of them straightened his collar, nodded to the others, and walked inside.

He crossed the restaurant without hesitation and stopped directly beside Sarah and Stan’s table.

"Sarah." His voice was cold and clipped. "When is your family planning to pay back the thirty million they owe?"

Sarah’s expression locked. Her chopsticks froze mid-air.

"I’ve already paid back nine million," she said tightly, forcing her voice to stay level. "Give me some time. I’ll find a way."

She couldn’t believe it. The Wilson family’s collectors had gotten bold enough to confront her in public, in the middle of a restaurant, in front of someone else. It was a deliberate humiliation.

Her family’s situation was already a disaster. After the bankruptcy, they had been left owing thirty-nine million dollars to the Wilsons.

The ten million Stan had lent her the day before had bought her breathing room, nine million toward the debt, the last million set aside for her father’s hospital bills. Beyond that, there was nothing. Not a single dollar in reserve.

And then, through the glass doors, she caught sight of a second figure standing quietly just outside, hands in his pockets, watching.

Her stomach dropped. ’Liam.’

The pieces clicked into place with sickening speed. ’He’s with the Wilson family.’