Infinite Cashback System

Her impression of her mother’s voice was pitch perfect and deeply bitter, capturing the patronizing tone of someone who viewed their child as a business asset rather than a human being.

Jordan grabbed a section of the couch that wasn’t occupied and sat down, genuinely curious now about where this was going. He’d never seen Alexis drop her mask this far, and the vulnerability beneath it was both surprising and unsettling.

"They introduced me to this guy." Alexis’s jaw tightened, the muscle jumping under her skin. "Harrison Van Allen the Third. Twenty-three, already working at his father’s investment firm, drives a Porsche 911 Turbo, wears custom suits from Savile Row, has a summer house in the Hamptons that’s been in his family for four generations. Everything you’d expect from old money trying to marry into even older money."

"That doesn’t sound awful on paper," Kumiko offered hesitantly, trying to find something positive in the situation.

"He talked about himself for forty-five minutes straight." Alexis’s voice went sharp, cutting through the air like broken glass. "His portfolio performance - apparently he’s up eighteen percent this quarter. His yacht - a sixty-footer moored in Newport that he bought last year. His collection of vintage Rolex watches that he keeps in a climate-controlled safe. The charity board he sits on where he does absolutely nothing except show up for photos with terminally ill children twice a year. Not once did he ask me a single question about myself. Not what I study. Not what I want. Not even what I think about the weather. Nothing."

Jordan felt something uncomfortable twist in his stomach. He’d seen this dynamic before at Pacific Crest, the wealthy kids who treated conversations as monologues instead of exchanges, who viewed other people as audiences rather than participants.

"So you left?" Chloe asked, setting her mug down on the coffee table with more force than necessary.

"I couldn’t leave. My parents made it very clear that Harrison represents an excellent match for our family’s standing." Alexis’s fingers clenched into fists against her thighs, the tendons in her hands standing out sharp and tense. "His family owns Van Allen Shipping - they move cargo containers between Los Angeles and Shanghai. They’re expanding into Southeast Asian markets. A marriage would strengthen both our positions in the Pacific trade corridor." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

The word ’marriage’ hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode, heavy with implications that made everyone in the room shift uncomfortably.

"Marriage?" Jordan’s voice came out sharper than he intended, disbelief coloring every syllable. "You’re eighteen."

"I’m aware." Alexis’s smile was bitter, all sharp edges and no warmth. "But in my world, that’s old enough to start considering strategic alliances. My parents have been grooming me for this since I was fourteen. The right schools - boarding school in Switzerland, then prep school in Connecticut. The right friends - other daughters of shipping magnates and real estate dynasties. The right image - always perfectly dressed, never controversial, never messy. All of it building toward the right match with the right family at the right time."

"That’s medieval," Kumiko said, her eyes wide with something between horror and fascination.

"That’s wealth." Alexis shrugged, but the gesture looked forced, like she was trying to convince herself as much as them. "Regular people get to marry for love. We marry for legacy. For business. For maintaining our position in society. Love is a luxury my family can’t afford to prioritize."

Chloe was quiet, her expression unreadable as she processed this information. Jordan knew that look - she was cataloging every detail, probably doing mental math about the kind of money Alexis was describing and comparing it to her own precarious financial situation. The contrast between their circumstances was stark enough to cut glass.

I thought my fake inheritance was complicated. This is a whole different level of wealth I never want to deal with. The System had given him money problems, but at least they were his problems to solve.

"Harrison asked for my number." Alexis’s voice had gone flat, drained of all emotion like she was reading from a script she’d memorized but never believed in. "My father gave it to him without asking me first. Handed over my contact information like I was a business card he was networking with. So now I’m expecting texts about dinner reservations at restaurants I don’t want to visit and charity galas where I’ll be expected to smile and look decorative while he talks business with other men who view women as accessories to their success."

"That’s horrible," Jordan said, and he meant every syllable. The anger that surfaced in his tone caught him off guard—genuine, uncalculated rage at the casual cruelty of parents treating their daughter like corporate property.

Alexis’s attention snapped to him with sudden focus. Not the usual dismissive glance she’d perfected for people she considered beneath her social tier, but actual eye contact. Recognition of another human being instead of just background scenery in Chloe’s apartment.

Her blue eyes held something raw beneath their customary frost—vulnerability she rarely let anyone see, especially not scholarship students she’d normally classify as irrelevant to her carefully curated world.

"You have no idea how lucky you are," she said, her voice dropping to barely audible levels, stripped of its usual authority. "Being able to just. Choose. Date whoever you want. No family connections to consider. No business implications weighing on every dinner invitation. No calculations about whether the relationship strengthens your social position in ways that matter to people who control your trust fund and can revoke it if you embarrass them at the country club."

Jordan thought about the System humming away in his phone. About the slots and the percentages and the inheritance lie he’d constructed to explain why he needed multiple girlfriends without looking like a player or a cheater. About how none of this was actually choice at all, just different kinds of obligation dressed up in prettier packaging. His freedom was just as artificial as her constraints, built on lies instead of family expectations.

"Yeah," he said, the word heavy with irony she couldn’t possibly understand. "Really lucky."