Victory Dinner

Zack exhaled sharply as he ended the call with Ethan, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. 

The club was still packed, bodies moving on the dance floor, neon lights flickering in sync with the thumping bass. 

He could feel the vibration in his chest, but his mind wasn't on the music, the people, or even the drink in his hand.

His laptop screen glowed in front of him, displaying the latest numbers.

[$2.5 million.]

In a single day.

Zack let out a slow whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Even though the rapid influx of registrations was finally stabilizing, the money was still climbing.

It wasn't slowing down — it was piling up.

He picked up his glass, taking a long swig of the juice he had ordered instead of alcohol. 

No way was he risking getting drunk tonight — not when things were moving this fast.