Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

”I’m really sorry.” Sophie said with sincerity then paused, gathering herself.

”You’ve been nothing but good to me, Stan. From the very first moment you walked up to me in that courtyard. And I repaid that by making you jump through hoops and keeping you at arm’s length.”

Her eyes glistened slightly, though she blinked it away before it could become anything more.

”I’m sorry. Truly.”

Stan looked at her for a long moment. The apology was unexpected, and, he realized with some surprise, genuinely moving. He’d been treating Sophie as a consumption target, a favorability counter, a line item in the system’s ledger. And here she was, standing in front of him with real vulnerability in her eyes, apologizing for things he’d barely registered as slights.

Something in his chest stirred, something warm, something inconvenient, and he carefully pushed it back behind the glass wall where it belonged.

”You don’t need to apologize,” he said. ”You were being careful. That’s smart, not cruel.”

Sophie shook her head.

”No, I was being a coward. There’s a difference.” She took a small breath, then smiled, tentatively, hopefully, the way someone smiles when they’re about to ask for something they’re not sure they deserve. ”Let me make it up to you.”

”How?”

”I’ve been setting up one of the apartments in Four Seasons Garden, one of the units you gave me. I’ve been decorating it.” A faint blush crept into her cheeks. ”I was hoping you’d come over with me. Right now. Let me cook for you. A proper meal, just the two of us. No crowds, no Felix, no forum gossip. Just, dinner.”

She held his gaze, and the invitation in her eyes carried considerably more than the promise of food.

Stan studied her face.

The blush. The slightly nervous fidgeting of her fingers at her sides. The way she’d said ’just the two of us’ with a particular softness that suggested she’d been thinking about those words before she said them.

The apartment she’d already started decorating, in a building he’d given her, for an evening she’d clearly been planning since the moment she opened that manila envelope.

’Well,’ he thought, keeping his expression composed while something inside him grinned like a wolf. ’Is it finally time to smash?’

”Right now?” he asked.

Sophie nodded, her blush deepening by half a shade. ”If you don’t mind. It’s getting late, and after a whole day of, that,” She gestured vaguely in the direction Felix had disappeared. ”I think we’ve both earned something quiet.”

”I could use quiet,” Stan admitted. ”And food. Mostly food.”

Sophie laughed, a soft, surprised sound that loosened something in the air between them.

”Then let’s go.”

She flagged down a taxi at the curb outside the shopping center, and they slid into the back seat together, closer this time than the morning ride, the earlier tentativeness replaced by something warmer, more settled. The kind of proximity that happens when two people have silently agreed to stop pretending they need the extra space.

”Four Seasons Garden, please,” Sophie told the driver. ”Crown Jewel Tower.”

The taxi pulled into traffic, and the city began scrolling past the windows in the soft amber light of early evening.

Sophie turned sideways in her seat, tucking one leg beneath her, facing him with the barely contained excitement of a woman who had been sitting on a secret all day and was finally allowed to share it.

”Okay. So... I have a confession.”

Stan lifted an eyebrow. ”Already?”

”Shh. Listen.” She swatted his arm, a grin tugging at her lips. ”When I came to find you in the cafeteria, when you were eating,”

”Yes?”

”You had fried chicken and fries.”

Stan blinked. ”...And?”

”You looked happy.” Her eyes lit up, hands moving as she spoke. ”Not just ’this is good’ happy. Genuinely happy. Like you were enjoying it, really enjoying it. And when you took a bite of the chicken, your whole face changed. You looked... delighted.”

Stan had no memory of making any kind of expression over cafeteria food, but he did love fried chicken and fries, so he let it pass.

”So,” Sophie said, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, ”I’m making you fried chicken and fries at my place today.”

She delivered it like the final reveal of a perfectly executed plan.

Stan felt a genuine, unguarded smile break across his face before he could stop it.

”You watched what I was eating in the cafeteria and built an entire dinner menu around it?”

”I also bought dipping sauces,” Sophie added proudly. ”Three kinds. Because I didn’t know which one you’d prefer. And I got the chicken thighs, not the breast, breast gets dry if you’re not careful, and I refuse to serve dry chicken to the man who bought me a building.”

Stan laughed. A real laugh, the kind that started in his chest and came out without permission.

”You’ve put serious thought into this.”

”I’ve put excessive thought into this,” Sophie corrected, entirely unashamed. ”I’ve been planning this dinner since yesterday. I went grocery shopping at six in the morning. I marinated the chicken before I even did my hair.”

”Priorities.”

”Exactly. Hair can wait. Marinade cannot, though as you can see, I later did my hair...”

Stan shook his head, still smiling. ”I’m genuinely looking forward to it.”

Sophie’s expression softened into something less playful and more honest.

”You’re going to love it,” she said quietly, with the kind of shy certainty that wasn’t about the food at all. ”I’m actually a really good cook. My mom taught me. It’s one of the few things I’m genuinely confident about.”

”More confident than your smile?”

The question caught her off guard. She blinked once, then looked away, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink that the evening light turned almost golden.

”That’s not fair,” she murmured. ”You can’t just say things like that.”

”Why not?”

”Because,” She turned back to him, and her eyes were doing that thing again, the soft, slightly overwhelmed thing that made his chest tighten in ways he wasn’t fully comfortable with. ”Because it makes me forget what I was talking about.”