Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

”You, you’re suing me?” Quinn was in disbelief

”Do you have any idea how much damage your lies have caused?” Sarah’s voice was quiet now, quieter than it had been during the tirade, which somehow made it more frightening. ”Stan Harrison has been publicly branded a predator, a manipulator, and a criminal, by you based on absolutely nothing. Women cross the street to avoid him. His reputation has been systematically destroyed. Opportunities have been lost. Relationships have been damaged.”

She let each word land with the precision of a surgeon placing stitches.

”And all because you were jealous that he got the girl you wanted.”

Quinn’s chair scraped backward. His legs buckled. And then, in front of every person he’d assembled to witness Stan Harrison’s destruction, Quinn Carter dropped to his knees.

”Sarah, please,” His voice cracked. ”I’m sorry. I went too far. I know I went too far. Please, please don’t do this. If you sue me, my academic record, my career, everything,”

Tears were forming in his eyes. Real tears. The kind that come when a man who has been playing games suddenly realizes the stakes were never what he thought they were.

”Please. I’ll take down every post. I’ll write a public apology. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please don’t take me to court.”

Sarah looked down at him.

For a moment, just a moment, something flickered behind her eyes. Not sympathy. Not pity. Just the brief, clinical acknowledgment that the creature kneeling before her was, despite everything, a human being.

”I’m not the one you should be begging,” she said quietly.

Quinn’s head turned slowly toward Stan Harrison.

Stan was sitting exactly where he’d been for the past twenty minutes, legs crossed, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. He hadn’t moved during Sarah’s speech. He hadn’t reacted during the video. He hadn’t flinched when Quinn hit the floor.

He just sat there, watching, the way a man watches weather.

Quinn crawled forward. Actually crawled, hands and knees on the sticky restaurant floor, between chair legs and under the edges of the table, until he was kneeling directly in front of Stan Harrison.

”Stan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was wrong about everything. I’ll do anything,”

”Anything?” Stan asked. His voice was mild.

”Anything. Just call off the lawsuit. Please.”

Stan looked at him for a long, unhurried moment.

Quinn Carter. The man who had spent weeks systematically dismantling his reputation. Who had turned the entire campus against him with fabricated stories and anonymous forum posts. Who had shown up at every low moment to twist the knife, to gloat, to mock. Who had assembled this very dinner party as a public execution, and had only fallen to his knees because the executioner’s blade had swung back toward his own neck.

Stan could forgive him. He could call off the lawsuit. He could accept the apology and move on.

But that wasn’t the play.

This wasn’t about Quinn Carter. Quinn was a footnote, a small, bitter man with a grudge and a Snapchat account. What mattered was the precedent. The message. Every student at Peak University who had read Quinn’s posts, shared Quinn’s lies, and joined Quinn’s chorus of condemnation needed to understand, in terms that left no room for interpretation, that targeting Stan Harrison had consequences.

Real consequences.

The kind that followed you off campus and into the real world.

”No,” Stan said.

Quinn’s face crumpled.

”The lawsuit stays,” Stan continued, his voice perfectly even. ”The posts stay documented. The evidence stays filed. And you,”

He leaned forward slightly.

”You get to live with what you did.”

”Stan, please,”

”You spent weeks destroying my name. You fabricated evidence. You turned the entire campus against me, you cost me relationships, opportunities, and peace of mind, all because a girl chose me over you three years ago and you never got over it.”

Stan’s eyes were steady. His voice carried no anger. No heat. Just the clean, cold clarity of a verdict being delivered.

”You wanted to send a message about me, Quinn. Congratulations, you succeeded. Now I’m going to send a message about you.”

He stood up.

”And the message is this: I am not someone you can target, slander, and humiliate without consequences. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

He looked down at Quinn one last time.

”Tell your friends. Tell the forum. Tell anyone who’s thinking about picking up where you left off.”

He steadied his jacket.

”I’m done being the campus punching bag.”

Stan turned and began walking out of the restaurant. Zack followed half a step behind, wearing the expression of a man who had just watched something historic and was already composing the group chat message about it.

Behind them, Quinn Carter remained on his knees on the sticky floor of a hot pot restaurant, surrounded by the people he’d recruited to help destroy a man who had just, quietly and permanently, destroyed him instead.

The woman with the camera phone was still recording.

She hadn’t stopped the entire time.

And by morning, the video, Quinn Carter kneeling, begging, crying on the floor of a restaurant while Stan Harrison stood over him and delivered a speech that would be quoted in campus group chats for years to come, would be the most-watched piece of content in Peak University’s history.

The narrative was about to change.

Permanently.

Meanwhile, Stan, Sarah and Zack had already left the restaurant.

The restaurant door swung shut behind them, and the cool night air rushed in to replace the stuffy, tension-soaked atmosphere they’d left inside.

Stan was still walking when he felt a warmth press against his side.

Sarah had followed him out. She fell into step beside him without a word, slipped her arm through his and leaned into him.

Zack, walking half a step behind, nearly tripped over his own feet.

He looked at Sarah’s arm linked through Stan. He looked at the way she was pressing against his shoulder. He looked at the small, private smile on her face.

Then he looked straight ahead, exhaled slowly through his nose, and quietly accepted that his best friend was living a life that most men could only experience through fiction.

Five campus beauties, Zack thought, doing the math in his head with the numb resignation of a man counting someone else’s lottery winnings. Sophie. Maya. Xenia. Now Sarah, openly, in public, on his arm. And Vivian Reeves apologized to him this morning.

’What am I even doing with my life?’