Chapter 368: FBI Arrives!!!

She slammed into Phei with enough force to stagger him—arms wrapping around his neck, face buried in his chest, sobbing and laughing at the same time. Her whole body shook with the force of emotions she couldn’t name.

Phei caught her.

Held her—he smiled.

A real smile.

Actually happy.

Emily pulled back just enough to look at his face—saw that smile—and started crying harder.

"You did it," she sobbed. "You actually—you—"

"We did it,"

Phei said.

She hugged him again.

Then more Simps, piling on. A wall of grateful, crying, laughing girls surrounding their dragon.

Landon got tackled by three Simps at once—went down laughing, arms spread wide, accepting his worship with the grace of a man who’d just helped slay a god.

Emily reluctantly broke away from Phei just long enough thank Landon too. "You

idiot!"

she sobbed into his shoulder. "You actually did it!"

"Call me idiot again, I will tell you dad." They laughed.

Then Brian—lifted onto shoulders, actually

lifted

, carried around the court while he laughed and pumped his fist.

Emily found him too, grabbed his hand in a firm handshake. "Thank you," she said fiercely. "Thank you for believing."

Brian’s eyes were wet. He’d deny it later.

The stadium kept singing.

Some of the Heaven Reapers had disappeared—slunk off to the locker room while no one was watching, while all eyes were on the victors. Marcus was gone. Danton was gone too... vanished like ghosts who’d finally accepted they were dead.

No one noticed.

No one cared.

Phei gathered the Simps.

It took a minute—the chaos was still swirling, the celebration still raging—but eventually he got them together. Emily, Delilah, and the core group who’d organized everything, built everything, believed in everything when believing seemed insane.

They stood in a loose circle near center court, still crying, still laughing, still riding the high of impossible victory.

Phei looked at them.

And his expression shifted.

Softer. Almost... guilty.

"I owe you guys an apology,"

he said.

The Simps went quiet. Confused.

"The cheerleading competition." Phei’s voice was low, meant only for them. "I knew you’d lose. I suggested it specifically because I knew you’d lose."

They just smiled.

"I needed to shake the tree. Separate the real believers from the hype chasers." He met their eyes one by one. "I used your loss to filter the crowd. Made sure only the diehards would profit from the bets."

Silence.

Then Delilah laughed—wet, broken, overwhelmed.

"You

bastard

," she said, but she was smiling. "You beautiful, calculating bastard."

"I’m sorry," Phei said. "You worked so hard, and I made you lose on purpose. That wasn’t—"

Emily cut him off with another hug.

"Don’t," she whispered into his chest. "Don’t apologize. Do you know what you did for us?"

She pulled back. Held up her phone.

The betting app was still open.

The number on the screen made Phei’s eyebrows rise.

$290,000.

"That’s my win," Emily said, voice shaking. "Two hundred and ninety thousand dollars.

Mine

. Not my family’s. Not a trust fund. Not an allowance.

Mine

. Money I made because I believed in you when everyone said I was crazy."

Delilah showed her phone too. Six Zeros.

Then another Simp. And another. And another.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars to

mils.

These girls—all from Downtown Paradise, all from wealthy families with trust funds and inheritances and family money that had been handed to them since birth—were looking at something different now.

Something that was

theirs

.

First real money they’d ever made for themselves. Not allowances. Not gifts. Not wealth they’d been born into.

Money they’d

earned

.

Because they’d believed when believing seemed insane.

"We should be thanking

you

," one of the Simps said, tears still streaming. "You gave us the chance to bet big when everyone else was running scared."

"You trusted us with the plan," another added. "You let us in."

"This is ours," another Simp added, voice cracking with emotion. "We risked it. We earned it. It’s

ours

."

The Simps nodded. All of them.

Unanimous.

Phei looked at them—these girls who’d followed him into madness, who’d built an empire out of faith and determination, who’d just become richer than most adults would ever be because they’d trusted a charity case when trusting him made no sense.

He opened his arms.

"Bring it in you gremlins."

They piled in.

Group hug. No performance. Not for cameras. Just gratitude, and relief, and the bone-deep satisfaction of having won something that mattered.

David materialized from the chaos, mic in hand, camera crew in tow.

His livestream was still running—viewer count in the millions now, servers struggling to keep up with the demand. He was grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery, which, given his bets, he probably had.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted into the mic, voice barely audible over the celebration. "We are

LIVE

at the scene of the greatest upset in Paradise history! The Heaven Reapers have been DETHRONED! The charity case is now the KING!"

The crowd roared in response.

David pushed through to Landon first—found him still surrounded by Simps, face wet with tears he wasn’t even trying to hide.

"

Landon! My man!

" David shoved the mic in his face. "Talk to me! How does it feel?"

Landon laughed—broken, overwhelmed, barely holding it together.

"I don’t—I can’t—" He wiped his eyes with his jersey. "Three weeks ago, I was a bench nobody. A benchwarmer. A kid who’d never start a real game. And now—"

His voice cracked.

"Now I just helped beat the best team in the state. With

three players

. Against

five

." He laughed again, disbelieving. "I don’t know how to feel. I don’t think I’ll ever know how to feel."

He looked directly at the camera, steadying himself.

"I just want to thank everyone who believed. Everyone who showed up. Everyone who bet on us when betting on us looked like throwing money away." His voice shook. "You believed when we needed it. We won’t forget that."

David clapped him on the shoulder, then moved to Brian.

Brian was calmer—still emotional, but holding it together better.

"Brian," David said. "The man who gave up his spot on the Reapers to join Phei’s team. Talk to us. What was going through your head?"

Brian took a breath.

"I want to thank the

me

of yesterday," he said slowly. "The me who stood up when Phei asked for teammates. The me who walked away from the starting lineup—from everything I’d worked for—because I believed in something bigger."

He looked at the camera.

"Everyone told me I was throwing my career away. That I’d never play for a real team again. That Phei was just a charity case who’d get destroyed." He smiled—small, fierce, proud. "They were wrong. And I’ll remember that for the rest of my life."

David nodded solemnly, then turned back to the crowd.

"You heard it here, folks! These boys risked

everything

! Brian gave up his spot on the starting five—the

Heaven Reapers

starting five—to join a team of three against the most dominant squad in Paradise history!"

He gestured at the scoreboard.

"

FIFTY TO SEVENTEEN

! They didn’t just win—they MORE than

doubled

them!"

The crowd screamed.

Brian added, looking past the camera to the crowd still celebrating: "Thank you. To everyone who believed. To everyone who took the risk with us. This win belongs to you too."

David was about to continue when someone tapped his shoulder.

Emily.

She held out her hand for the mic.

David blinked—surprised—then grinned and handed it over without hesitation.

Emily stepped forward. The stadium was still celebrating—still singing, still dancing, still riding the high—but something about her movement drew attention.

People started quieting down. Watching. Waiting.

She raised the mic.

"HEY!"

Her voice cracked through the speakers, cutting through the noise.

The stadium settled. Twenty thousand faces turning toward the girl in the blue and white Phei Simps uniform, standing at center court like she owned it.

"First of all,"

Emily said, voice steady despite the tears still drying on her cheeks,

"thank you. To everyone who believed. To everyone who bet on us when the odds said we were crazy. To everyone who showed up, who cheered, who helped make this happen."

Cheers. Applause.

"Second—"

Emily grinned, the expression sharp and mischievous.

"There’s an

after-party."

The crowd

roared

.

"Location will be shared in your respective class group chats! Academy students, Downtown residents, VIP guests—check your phones! We’re celebrating tonight!"

She handed the mic back to David.

The stadium exploded again—phones coming out, group chats lighting up, the promise of a party spreading like wildfire through the crowd.

David laughed into the mic.

"You heard the lady! Check your chats! The night is NOT over!"

Somewhere in the chaos, Phei stood at center court.

Still surrounded by Simps. Still being hugged, thanked, celebrated.

But for a moment—just a moment—he looked up.

Past the lights. Past the banners. Past the physical world.

The fairy hovered near the rafters, invisible to everyone but him.

She

winked.

The Consort watched from her vantage point, expression finally settling back into composure—but he’d seen the surprise. He’d seen her shock.

A

shocked gasp

echoed through the stadium.

Then another.

Then 200,000 voices rising in confused uproar as the celebration shattered into chaos.

The gymnasium doors had burst open.

WTF

are

Federal agents

doing here!

"EVERYBODY STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"