Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

After speaking, Emma paused, studying Amelia’s face.

Emma watched as a slow, almost dreamy smile spread across Amelia’s features, she watched as Amelia’s juicy red lips parted and a soft voice came out...

”As expected of my hero.”

The words came out soft and distant, the voice of a woman suspended somewhere between sedation and emotions she had never allowed herself to feel before.

”I always thought every man was trash. Every single one of them. But he saved me. He didn’t have to. He didn’t even know me. He had nothing to gain from it. He just...” Her smile deepened. ”He just did.”

Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling.

”He really might be the only good man in the world.”

Silence fell over the room.

The guards stood frozen in collective dumbfoundedness.

...

Several kilometers away, in his apartment, Stan remained fast asleep.

He was sprawled diagonally across the bed, one arm tucked beneath his pillow, his phone lying face-down on the bedside table.

Completely unaware that, at that very moment, two new notifications had quietly appeared at the edge of his awareness, each recording the same steadily rising favorability in real time.

[Amelia Don: Favorability 110]

[Amelia Don: Favorability 115]

He would see them later. For a few seconds, they would surprise him.

Then, as always, he would file the information away with the same calm efficiency he applied to everything else.

For now, however, none of that mattered.

Stan slept on, blissfully unaware that he was currently being declared the only good man in the world.

...

Back in the hospital room, Emma continued.

”There’s something else, Director. He paid for your treatment. He’s covered five days of the elite protocol, that’s what you’ve been receiving, and he prepaid for a full month. Whatever this hospital can do for a patient, they’ve been doing for you. He authorized everything before he left.”

Amelia’s breath caught. ”He... paid for my treatment?”

”Yes, Director.”

”How much?”

Emma hesitated for only a moment, then she answered directly; ”Thirty million dollars, ma’am.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. For several seconds, she simply stared then she asked softly; ”Thirty million dollars?”

”Yes, ma’am. Paid in full upon admission. He left no name, no contact information, no message, and no request for repayment. He simply paid and walked away.”

The room fell silent.

Amelia slowly turned her head toward the window, the pale morning light spilling across her face.

’Thirty million dollars.’

The number echoed through her mind. For a stranger. For a woman he had never met.

For a woman who had flinched from a simple act of kindness on a hotel staircase as though he were the threat.

For a woman whose only role in the entire encounter had been to become a victim.

’Thirty million dollars.’

This went beyond generosity. Beyond kindness. There had been no audience. No publicity. No benefit waiting for him at the end of it. No possibility of repayment. Yet he had paid. Anonymously, and then he had left.

The strange warmth in her chest expanded, becoming something larger and far more difficult to define. It felt unfamiliar, almost disorienting. Amelia Don had spent her entire life understanding people through motives, incentives, leverage, and self-interest.

This feeling fit none of those categories.

For the first time, she found herself understanding what other women had meant when they spoke about being moved by a man. Not attraction, not gratitude, but something deeper.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the phone resting on the bedside table.

The screen lit up instantly. Signal strength was excellent. The premium suite had its own dedicated network.

Amelia immediately began searching. She knew she had seen him before. She didn’t remember clearly, she cracked her mind, feeling a slight headache but she kept thinking, fortunately she didn’t have to think for long, she had remembered enough.

The talent show, the Star Entertainment table.

A man seated near the center, carrying himself with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged wherever he chose to sit. Tall, calm, confident and watchful.

And she was almost certain his name had started with an S.

She pulled up the public guest list from the Velaris Film and Media Association talent showcase.

Then she filtered the Star Entertainment representatives.

Photographs appeared. She scrolled once, then twice, then she stopped.

Her finger froze against the screen.

The third image, beneath it was a name.

[Stan Harrison]

Amelia stared at the photograph. Then enlarged it. Then stared even longer.

’Stan Harrison.’

The name settled somewhere deep inside her chest.

’So this is the name of my saviour~’

The photograph had clearly been taken during the showcase. Stan sat at the Star Entertainment table, his expression composed as he watched the stage.

Even through a photograph captured from across a crowded venue, she recognized the same quality she had sensed during those fragmented moments before losing consciousness.

A face and figure that looked and felt calm, confident and also had something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint that stirred something in her heart. He had the kind of presence that didn’t need to announce itself. The kind of man who carried power without displaying it.

As if entranced by him, she kept looking and just like that, minutes passed. Perhaps even longer.

The room around her gradually faded into the background until there was only the photograph in her hands.

At some point, Amelia realized she was smiling. Not because of his appearance. Not because of his wealth. Not even because he had saved her. But because, for the first time in her life, she had encountered a man whose actions matched every ideal she had once believed existed only in fiction.

And somewhere between learning his name and staring at his photograph, Amelia realized she had begun falling for him.

She could only watch herself fall slowly, helplessly and completely for him

...

Amelia Don was twenty-eight years old.

The woman she had become was built in deliberate opposition to the men who had shaped her early life.

Her father had been the first. He had married her mother for her family’s wealth and spent the following decade revealing, piece by piece, the full extent of his intentions. Through countless small cruelties and a handful of unforgettable ones, he had taught Amelia exactly what men were capable of when they wanted something.

The lesson had been thorough. It had ended when she was eleven years old. That was the year her father had tried to kill her mother.

The attack had happened in front of Amelia. Her mother had survived by minutes. Amelia had called the police herself.

The arresting officers had taken her father away in handcuffs the same night her mother was rushed to the hospital. Weeks later, he died in prison from what medical staff described as a stress-induced heart attack.

Amelia had not attended the funeral. Her mother survived. For a while.

Two years later, complications linked directly to the injuries from that night finally claimed her life.

At thirteen years old, Amelia inherited everything. Her mother’s fortune, her assets, and the Warner Bros. shares her mother had quietly accumulated over the years, an investment that had grown into a position large enough to matter.

A teenage girl with no living parents and a significant stake in one of Hollywood’s most influential companies.

But the pain she had been through wasn’t enough as her uncles came next. The details were neither pleasant nor important.

There had been three serious attempts to take her inheritance, and, in some cases, her life, before she turned seventeen.

Each had been orchestrated by a man convinced he could manipulate a teenage girl. Each had failed. Not because Amelia was lucky but because she had made survival her obsession.

By the time she reached twenty, she had done more than protect what her mother left behind.

She had expanded it, aggressively and relentlessly.

The stake she inherited had been respectable. The stake she controlled now was powerful.

Over twelve years of disciplined, ruthless effort, she had transformed herself into one of Warner Bros’ most influential shareholders.

She had done it without partners. Without husbands, without leaning on any man for support. Not even once had she considered it.