Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 295

Chapter 295: When Trouble Walks In, Looking Expensive as Hell
Tessa shut the Bugatti’s door with a smirk, fingers still curled around the wheel like it was already hers. “Yeah, no. I’m not going back in the Rover.”

Atalanta, lounging in her Porsche’s driver’s seat, let out a soft chuckle. “Obviously not. Why would we? We just got these.” She patted the dashboard like it was a damn throne.

Parker, arms crossed, raised a brow. “You two acting like the Range Rover’s a public bus.”

Tessa made a face. “If the choice is this or the Range Rover, then yeah, might as well be.” She flicked the key with so much enthusiasm that one might have thought she’s driving a Buggati for the first time in her life.

Atalanta nodded. “Exactly. We’re not leaving these cars behind just to ride home in an SUV like peasants.”

Parker let out a slow sigh but couldn’t argue. Honestly, he would’ve done the same.

Tessa grinned, stepping out of her Bugatti briefly. “You know what would make this even better?”

Parker already knew where this was going. He could feel it.

Atalanta smirked, stretching her arms. “A race.”

Yeah. Of course. No way an Olympian warrior was just gonna casually drive home in her first-ever car—and a super car at that! Heavens, how was he gonna deal with these two being childish like this. He was cooking a plan to have Atalanta live with him but trouble would be home everytime these two were under the same roof.

And obviously they weren’t going to be the last!

Parker sighed and gave her a knowing but resigned look. “Figures.”

She raised a brow. “What, scared?”

He exhaled, turning to the Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut sitting in the showroom, sleek, deadly, stupidly fast. This was his choice. “Alright. Why not?”

Atalanta’s smirk widened. “Finally. Thought you were about to be boring.”

Tessa stretched lazily. “Oh, this is gonna be hilarious.”

Meanwhile, the rest of the fleet was getting wrapped up for delivery. The Rolls-Royce Phantom Extended, luxury dripping from its every inch, was being carefully prepped for transport. The 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO, an actual artifact of wealth, was being secured with a kind of reverence that should’ve been reserved for a holy relic. The three motorcycles—Ducati, BMW, Kawasaki—were strapped down like weapons of war. And, of course, the Range Rover was being loaded up, because someone had to be the responsible one in this lineup.

Tessa waved a hand. “Take the rest to the mansion. Immediately.”

One of the attendants nodded, barely keeping up as she noted the location provided by Tessa. The location itself had a red zone on the maps, she did know what it meant, after all it was the same with the Wilder location. A not casual entry zone. You had to have permission to enter it.

“Understood, Miss Wilder.”

Atalanta tapped her fingers against the wheel, watching Parker with a sharp glint in her eyes. “So, you sure about that one?”

Parker ran a hand along the Koenigsegg’s body. “You nervous?”

Her smirk sharpened. “Oh, now I have to humble you.”

Tessa cracked her knuckles, hopping back in her Bugatti. “Boys, clear the roads.”

****

Escorted down a private hall, Parker strolled at the center of an absurdly powerful trio. On his right, Tessa Wilder, a walking declaration of power, moved with the grace of a queen who already owned everything in the room—including the people inside. Her boots clicked softly against the polished floor, her black dress cutting sharp against the light like the edge of a blade. She had the kind of confidence that could kill a man without lifting a finger.

On his left, Atalanta, wrapped in that effortless, lethal warrior beauty, was something else entirely. Her dress, a deep navy that shimmered under the lights, reflected a quiet elegance—but it was her boots that completed the picture. Polished black leather, sleek and ready for movement, the kind of thing a modern-day huntress would wear if she had to go from a gala to a battlefield in five seconds flat.

And then there was Parker.

He walked like someone who didn’t care about the rules—not because he wanted to break them, but because they didn’t apply to him in the first place. Every step was slow, deliberate, completely relaxed. He didn’t have to flex power. He just was power.

Not in an intimidating way, either—more in the what-the-fuck-does-this-guy-know-that-we-don’t kind of way.

His aura? Pure enigma.

Not even the most seasoned Ether warriors would take one look at him and think, This dude’s a threat. Nope. Instead, they’d get an unsettling feeling—like a nagging itch in the back of their minds—telling them that maybe, just maybe, they should rethink every decision before messing with him.

And yet, Parker hadn’t met enough billionaires to know if this effect carried over to them too.

…Maybe it didn’t.

Or maybe it did.

Hell, he hadn’t stuck around to find out.

The moment the trio entered, the man in charge of tonight’s payment stood up immediately—but he didn’t just stand up. He bowed—not to them, but to Tessa Wilder.

Deeply.

Because of course he did.

Tessa was Wilder royalty.

And if someone valued their future, they bent the back accordingly.

But the moment he straightened, his eyes caught Parker, and for half a second, his brain straight-up lagged.

First of all—’who the hell was this guy?’

He’d been briefed: Miss Wilder would be arriving with her company, and among them was the man who had made an order three days ago—three of which were extremely confidential and wouldn’t be delivered tonight.

But now that he was seeing Parker in person?

Holy shit.

Even with Ere’s concealments in place, Parker was hands-down the most stupidly handsome man he’d ever seen.

Like, offensively so.

The slightest Asian resemblance, the effortlessly cool demeanor, the way he stood between Tessa Wilder and Atalanta like he fucking belonged there, like he owned the two of them—who was this guy?

And more importantly…

Was he and Miss Wilder a couple?

Because that would be insane.

And judging by the intimacy between them, it sure as hell looked like it.

…Which meant one thing.

Trouble.

Big trouble.

Not just in the Wilders, but at least three of the Big Five families were going to have a problem with this mystery Mr. Parker—if he had a powerful background to match. And judging by the way Parker just strolled in like he owned the air they were breathing, the man at the desk could already tell—this was the beginning of something dangerous.

A storm, wrapped in black fabric and a billionaire’s smirk.

He was looking at the very hem of trouble’s shirt as it walked into the room.