Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

In the parking garage, Stan passed the Audi without slowing down and continued toward the Huracán.

The matte-black supercar sat low beneath the overhead lights, its sharp angles and aggressive silhouette casting hard shadows across the concrete floor. Even parked and silent, it possessed a presence that demanded attention.

He pressed the key fob. A soft chirp answered him. The lights flashed and the doors unlocked.

Stan slid into the driver’s seat and settled comfortably behind the wheel. For a brief moment, his hand rested on the leather-wrapped steering wheel as the quiet of the garage surrounded him.

The Audi had been the right choice for practice and the game. Practical, comfortable, forgettable.

The kind of car that let the day be about basketball rather than about what he drove.

The Huracán was none of those things. It was not practical. It was not forgettable.

And on the right kind of evening, that was precisely the point.

Tonight felt like one of those evenings. The campus was still buzzing from the upset victory.

The dunk clip was spreading across social media at a ridiculous pace.

Thousands of students had already seen his name, his face, and that moment hanging above the rim.

A dining hall full of teammates, cheerleaders, coaches, and students was waiting for him.

Showing up in the Huracán felt less like showing off and more like matching the energy of the night.

Stan pressed the ignition. The engine came alive instantly.

A deep, controlled growl rolled through the cabin, the sound rich and mechanical without being excessive. It was the voice of a machine built with one purpose in mind: to make people look up when it arrived.

The dashboard illuminated.

The garage echoed briefly with the low rumble. Stan shifted into gear.

The Huracán eased out of its parking space and glided toward the exit ramp.

Moments later, the matte-black supercar emerged into the evening air.

Campus lights reflected across its bodywork as he headed toward the dining hall, the celebration still waiting for him.

---

The drive across campus was short. It was also, in its own way, incredibly theatrical.

The matte-black Huracán rolled through the evening-lit roads of Peak University like a celebrity making a scheduled appearance.

Heads turned. Students walking between dorms and study halls instinctively glanced toward the sound of the engine. More than a few already had their phones in hand, doomscrolling through clips from the game, and several lifted them almost automatically when the supercar passed.

Then they realized who was driving. The reactions escalated immediately.

”Isn’t that the student tycoon’s Lamborghini?”

”STAN!”

”THAT’S HIM!”

”HUNDRED-YARD JUMPER, BABY!”

”PEAK!”

Laughter followed.

A few students actually jogged alongside the sidewalk for several seconds trying to get a better look.

Stan simply raised a hand in acknowledgment without slowing down. The gesture somehow made the crowd even more excited.

By the time he reached the dining hall, several people were already posting fresh photos online.

The building sat at the edge of the central commons, its large glass windows glowing warmly against the darkening evening.

Stan pulled into the visitor parking lot and guided the Huracán into a space near the entrance.

As the engine shut off, he glanced through the windshield and noticed that nearly every student passing by was slowing down to look at the car.

Several had already stopped entirely. Two students were openly taking pictures. One was recording a video.

Stan found himself mildly amused by the predictability of it all.

The Huracán had never been subtle. He stepped out and locked the car.

Immediately, another small cluster of students started whispering. The wide glass doors of the dining hall stood propped open.

Warm light spilled across the pavement. Music drifted faintly from inside. So did laughter.

The celebration was already well underway.

Just inside the entrance stood Zack. The basketball captain had very obviously stationed himself there with one specific mission in mind.

Intercept Stan the moment he arrived.

The second he spotted him through the glass, his grin widened.

”Bro.”

”Zack.”

”You actually showed up in the Huracán.”

”You sound surprised.”

”I’m not surprised.”

Zack pointed toward the parking lot behind him. ”I’m delighted.”

He shook his head. ”The energy in there is already insane. You pulling up in the matte-black is going to make it apocalyptic.”

Stan considered that. ”That’s a strong word.”

”It’s the correct word.” Zack stepped forward, clapped him on the shoulder, and pulled him into a quick half-hug.

When he stepped back, he was still grinning. ”I don’t know if I told you this yet, but Zoey recorded everything.”

”You mentioned it.”

”The dunk clip just crossed eight million views.”

Stan blinked. ”Eight?”

”Million.” Zack held up a finger for emphasis.

”Eight. Million.”

A laugh escaped him.

”Zoey is one notification away from ascending into another plane of existence.”

Then his expression softened slightly. More genuine.

”Seriously, though.”

He gestured toward the packed dining hall.

”Without you, none of this happens.”

His voice carried a sincerity that cut through the jokes. ”We don’t beat Velaris Crown.”

”We don’t bring the cup home.”

”We don’t have half the campus celebrating tonight.”

For a brief moment, Zack looked every bit the captain who had carried the hopes of the team all season.

Then the grin returned. ”So, on behalf of Peak University...”

He spread his arms dramatically.

”Thanks for casually deciding to become an elite basketball player for one afternoon.”

Stan shrugged. ”You asked.”

”I did.”

”And somehow that’s still the craziest part.”

Laughing, Zack turned toward the interior of the hall and began walking. ”Come on.”

The noise grew louder with every step.

”The team’s at the back.”

”The cheer squad’s here.”

”Half the school is here.”

He glanced over his shoulder. ”And approximately seventy percent of them are waiting to see if you’re actually real.”

Stan followed him through the open doors. Into the warmth. Into the noise. Into the celebration.

The team was waiting. The cheer squad was waiting. Sophie was waiting.

And the rest of the night was just beginning.