Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Luciano Wilder stood like the last pillar of an empire amid the quiet ruins of another. With calm precision, he lifted the thick portfolio—Ashford ink still drying across its final page—and let the weight of the room settle around him.

His voice was gravel and fire, laced with command, carrying to every corner of the ballroom:

"Ladies and gentlemen. Friends. Associates. Former partners. Fellow family leaders. This venue has served its purpose."

He paused, eyes scanning the remnants of fractured alliances and ruined legacy.

"I declare a sudden celebration of my granddaughter's real engagement which will now continue at the Wilder estate."

That word—engagement—hung in the air like a gong strike.

Half the room blinked. The other half audibly gasped.

Luciano turned slightly, nodding toward Tessa and Parker, who had just returned—walking side by side like two storms finally synced in rhythm. Parker's expression was calm, but anyone near enough felt the pressure he brought back with him. It curled under the skin like static before a goddamn lightning strike.

Tessa smiled, soft and fierce, as if daring anyone to challenge what had already been decided.

A long silence followed.

Then murmurs.

Then movement.

The crowd started to shift like a wave trying to figure out which direction the tide had gone.

Parker stood quiet as ever, arms folded, but his return had clearly snapped more than just distance. The moment he'd reappeared beside Tessa, frost whispered across the tile. Every flower in the room seemed to shiver. Chandeliers dimmed as if instinctively making room for something brighter… and more dangerous.

He didn't say much.

He didn't need to.

For a breathless moment, everything was still.

The stars above the Ashford estate blinked quietly, unaware that the dynasty below them had just crumbled into whispers. Wind curled along stone walkways and garden hedges, but even it seemed hesitant—waiting for the final stroke.

Parker stood there in house no longer worthy of its legacy. The sky above it was ink‑black and bottomless, stitched with constellations that felt closer than the ground beneath his feet. Below, the remnants of a shattered evening scattered in silence—the wreckage of pride, legacy, and hubris still settling.

And then—

Snap.

Not loud. Not grand. Just a soft, dismissive click of Parker's fingers, casual and final as closing a book.

The world shifted.

In an instant, the ruined estate, the bruised egos, the fractured families—gone.

They didn't see the spell. They didn't hear the crack in dimensions. But they felt the pull—that divine thread Parker tugged through reality, yanking everyone into a new chapter before they'd even caught up with the last.

And just like that… they were standing in the Wilder ballroom.

But not the quiet, tasteful one from earlier.

No, this ballroom shimmered like a dream caught mid‑breath. Velvet banners of deep gold and cosmic indigo swayed from the cathedral‑high ceilings. Crystalline chandeliers—not electric, but powered by suspended sunfire—rained soft, warm light onto glass tiles that reflected everyone twice: as they were, and as the world now saw them.

Ornate tables laden with delicacies had not been there ten seconds ago. Musicians in midnight suits played gentle jazz from nowhere, the notes curling through the air as if they'd always been playing.

Everyone blinked.

Even the Wilders.

Even Tessa—who had been gripping Parker's hand and now stood beside him in a dress that shimmered faintly like starlight.

"Parker…?" she whispered.

He just smiled. That effortless, offhanded, of course I did this smile. "What? You think I'd ruin a party and not throw a better one to replace it?"

Grandfather Wilder stepped forward—still regal, still steel‑spined, but now visibly caught off guard. He looked around the ballroom, a space that now looked like something carved from Olympus with money as an afterthought and divinity as the contractor.

"...You did this?" he asked quietly, eyes roaming the seamless perfection. Not a wrinkle on the tablecloths. Not a candle out of place. Even the name tags were etched in gold.

Parker turned to face him, hands in his pockets. "What can I say? Felt like a celebration needed a better address. And your mansion does have better wine."

The old man chuckled, deep and proud. "It's more than that. This… is legacy craftsmanship."

"I'm aware."

A pause. Then Grandfather Wilder lifted his glass—no idea when it had appeared in his hand—and raised it high. His voice, when it came, echoed clean across the marble expanse.

"Everyone. Listen well."

Silence fell like velvet.

"This night started in shadow. In betrayal. In ugly truths and broken lines. But it will not end that way."

He turned toward Parker, then toward Tessa, who stepped closer—head high, eyes burning bright.

"My granddaughter," Wilder declared, "was almost handed over like some stock option in a boardroom merger. But instead—tonight, she stands beside the man who shattered every plan and rewrote every page. A man who didn't just rescue her, but who stood by her with power, yes—but more than that, with integrity."

He turned to the room, voice deepening.

"And so, as the head of the Wilder family, as her grandfather, and as the man who once bled for a second chance—I say this: Let tonight not be remembered for what almost happened…"

His eyes glittered with fire.

"Let it be remembered for what will."

He raised his glass higher.

The room erupted. Cheers, gasps, even a few muffled sobs from those who realized they'd just witnessed the start of a new era. Helena clapped like a fairy godmother who'd been waiting for this. And Zhang Ruoyun gave the kind of polite smile that gods used when watching history pivot.

The other families—still reeling from their downfall—stood frozen. Dominic Ashford looked hollowed out. His son even more so. A broken legacy with no chair left at the table.

And Annabelle?

She didn't cheer.

She just smiled.

Soft, satisfied. As if the universe had, at long last, turned toward its rightful orbit.

Then, stepping beside her sister, she muttered under her breath—half prayer, half curse:

"They were never ready for him."

*

It was impossible to say when the Ashford estate ended, and the Wilder ballroom began. It happened like a breath—one moment flickering lights and fading arrogance, the next: warmth, splendor, and a hall made of old magic and new beginnings.

The outside of the Wilder mansion stood lit like a cathedral of starlight. Music played—real music this time, orchestral and rich, woven with ancient notes only the oldest families recognized. Lanterns floated along the ceiling, fireflies caught in suspended orbits, while polished crystal chandeliers cast softened light over everything. The air smelled like midnight roses and celebration wine.

And yet… none of it had been prepared.

Not in advance.

Because Parker hadn't just teleported the guests.

He'd snapped and reality obeyed.

Every floral arrangement, every lighting rune, every champagne flute and golden banner bearing his crest and Tessa's initials—P & T—appeared as though time had folded itself into service.

Somewhere in the corner, someone whispered:

"Did he just… build an entire engagement ball from scratch in under five seconds?"

And someone else replied, "He didn't build it. He remembered it."

Luciano stepped forward once again—this time with less fire, more gravity.

He raised his glass. "I speak now not just as a grandfather or a business patriarch… but as a witness."

He gestured toward Tessa and Parker, now side by side beneath a silver‑white arc of glowing runes, stars spinning slow above them.

"Tonight, we witnessed what real power looks like. But more than that—we witnessed the power of restraint. And of love."

The crowd had gone still again.

Luciano smiled, genuine this time.