Chapter 139 Black Horse

Liam finally leaned back in his chair, letting out a tired sigh as he stretched his arms overhead. "That’s it," he said, spinning slightly in his chair to face Dickson, who was staring at his screen with the intensity of a man decoding the universe.

Dickson’s eyes were red from hours of staring at charts, lines, indicators, and Liam’s endless instructions—but his face carried a rare seriousness. And pride. His demo account, which had started with $10,000, now showed $78,000.

It had taken him longer than Liam would’ve liked, and he asked the dumbest questions imaginable along the way, but... the bastard got the job done.

Liam nodded once, a rare, approving smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Not bad."

Dickson stood up, his expression frozen like his brain was still catching up. "Did I really...?"

"You did."

And then, in a flash, Dickson screamed, "WOOOOO!!!" He shot out of his chair like he’d been tasered, leaping toward Liam with open arms for a hug, possibly a kiss.

Liam kicked him square in the chest.

Dickson flew back and landed with a grunt on the bed, wheezing and clutching his ribs. "Asshole. How the fuck are you so strong."

Liam shook his head with a laugh as he picked up his phone. On the screen, his account now sat at over $403,000. It was still hard to believe. Just a few days ago, he barely had a hundred bucks to his name, and now...

He quickly navigated through his trading app and withdrew $310,000, sending it to his main bank account. Just seeing that kind of number under his name made his chest tighten. He’d never felt this powerful before—and it wasn’t just the money. It was his power. His skill. The system had given him the tools, but he’d earned this.

With a few taps, he sent $10,000 to Dickson.

Dickson’s phone buzzed on the bed. He lazily picked it up, still half-dazed from the flying kick. When he saw the notification, he sat up slowly like a man possessed.

Then he blinked. Rubbed his eyes.

Then screamed.

"NO WAY!!! TEN FUCKING GRAND?!?"

Liam shrugged. "Use it to start your live account. Don’t fuck it up."

Dickson dropped the phone and just sat there, staring into space. "I’ve... never seen that much money before, bro. Like... that’s more than my dad’s net worth. I swear, if I showed this to my mom, she’d think I sold drugs or joined a cult."

Liam just chuckled and shook his head. The money, the system, the secrecy—everything was moving fast, but it felt right. He had no intention of letting anyone know how he was pulling this off. Not even Dickson. Some gifts weren’t meant to be shared. Not yet.

Dickson finally got to his feet. "I gotta go, man. I got a new mission in life now. A purpose."

Liam raised a brow. "Oh yeah?"

"No, bro. I’m quitting watching Flora Jenson’s videos. Cold turkey."

Liam nearly choked. "Seriously?"

Dickson nodded solemnly, holding up three fingers like he was pledging an oath. "At least for a week."

Liam snorted. "Progress."

Dickson grabbed his phone and was heading for the door when he paused near the window. Liam’s room was upstairs, giving a perfect view of the street below. Dickson glanced outside absentmindedly, but his expression changed instantly.

"Yo," he called, waving Liam over. "Come look at this."

Liam stood beside him and followed his gaze out the window. A cab had just pulled up in front of the house next door. Lana’s house.

Lana stepped out of the backseat, slowly, like her legs had forgotten how to move properly. She looked exhausted. Her beautiful face was drained of color, her shoulders slumped, her movements sluggish. She didn’t look like the confident, radiant girl from before. She looked... broken.

Liam’s brows furrowed. "What happened to her?"

Dickson crossed his arms, deep in thought. "How the hell do you expect me to know—?"

But then he paused.

His eyes shifted, narrowing slightly. Something clicked in his mind.

And then...

"Oh," Dickson said slowly, a glint of realization in his voice. "I know what’s wrong with her. It’s pressure"

Liam leaned against the windowsill, watching as Lana stepped slowly into her house. The weight on her shoulders was visible even from a distance—her back hunched slightly, her steps slow, as though she were dragging invisible chains. The second she stepped inside and shut the door, she collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

There was something deeply unsettling about the image. Lana, usually so full of life and fire, looked... defeated.

"What the hell happened to her?" Liam murmured, eyes still fixed through the half-open curtain.

"I told you," Dickson replied with a low grunt. "She’s under pressure."

Liam turned slightly. "Pressure? From what?"

Dickson cleared his throat, folding his arms with a serious expression. "According to my intel—by intel I mean gossip, Instagram comments, and my cousin Muna who works with one of the modeling agencies—Lana’s got a major event tomorrow. A big one. The kind that could change her career."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "Okay... and?"

Dickson’s face grew animated. "It’s not just any event. It’s like a high-tier fashion exhibition, but they’ve added a little twist. Every model is expected to show up with a partner. A date. A plus one. At the end of the event, the audience votes for the couple of the day. Whoever wins gets a huge media spotlight, and the endorsement deals start flying in."

Liam frowned. "That’s stupid."

"It’s the modeling world," Dickson muttered with a shrug. "Looks, status, image. That’s all they care about. Lana’s confident she can win—if she has the right partner."

Liam glanced sideways. "And by ’right partner’ you mean...?"

Dickson puffed out his chest dramatically. "Someone worthy. Someone classy. Someone with presence. Someone like—me—" He coughed mid-sentence when Liam’s hand smacked him hard on the back of the head.

"Be serious."

"I am serious!" Dickson rubbed the back of his skull, wincing. "But yeah, the point is—she’s struggling. She’s asked a few guys already, but—" He paused, his tone turning grim. "They all want a reward in return."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. Money?"

Dickson shook his head slowly. "Nah, man. Worse." He looked Liam dead in the eyes. "They want her virginity."

Liam’s expression froze.

His eyes narrowed, the lines of his jaw tightening as he turned to look out the window again. A dark silence filled the room for a few long seconds. Liam’s gaze remained locked on Lana’s house, on the silhouette of her still lying on that couch.

His fists clenched at his sides.

"That’s fucked up," he said, voice low and cold. "They don’t care about her dreams or her talent. Just sex. That’s all she is to them."

Dickson sighed deeply. "Yeah. That’s the industry, man. Especially for girls like her. She’s not just beautiful—she’s... different. Clean. Reserved. They can’t control her, and it drives them crazy."

He started pacing the room, visibly frustrated now.

"Someone with her looks and portfolio should already be on every billboard in the city. But no. These old, fat, big-bellied bastards with cigar breath and liver spots—they’ve blacklisted her. All ’cause she won’t spread her legs for them." He stopped pacing and threw his arms up. "It’s disgusting!"

Liam didn’t respond.

He was still staring at Lana.

With his enhanced vision, he could see her more clearly. Her face was pale, her eyes dull. Her phone sat on the coffee table, untouched. The TV was on, but she wasn’t watching. She was simply... existing. Silent. Still. Heavy with disappointment.

Liam’s voice finally broke the silence. "How important is this event to her personally?"

Dickson paused. He rubbed his chin and let out a breath. "If she performs well at the event—if she wins—it’s her ticket to the spotlight. All she needs is the right exposure. This could get her the attention of international agencies. Brands. Photo shoots. It’s a ladder out of hell."

"And if she doesn’t show up without a partner?" Liam asked.

"She’ll fade," Dickson said simply. "She won’t even make top twenty. Not without a partner. And the industry won’t wait for her. Another pretty face will come along, and she’ll be forgotten. Just like that."

Liam remained quiet.

He didn’t need to hear more.

He saw the weight Lana carried. The pressure. The helplessness. And for someone like her—someone fighting alone against an entire system rigged against her—it wasn’t just unfair.

It was cruel.

And Liam hated cruelty.

Especially when it was aimed at someone like Lana.