Chapter Twelve: "Villa Vibes and Campus Gossip Explosions"

Ethan flashed his SkyHigh Estates key fob, and the gates to paradise swung open. SkyHigh was next-level—think resort vibes, with manicured lawns and a lake so pristine it could star in a travel ad. Too bad it was night; the view was half-lost in the dark. After a quick hunt, Ethan found Villa #8—his $5 million castle, perched on SkyHigh Lake like it owned the place. One of the biggest in the enclave, it screamed "you've made it."

He parked the Ferrari and strolled to the entrance. The double doors—crafted by some fancy German outfit called Biffar—looked like they could stop a tank. Bulletproof, blast-proof, and loaded with tech: fingerprint, retina scan, even a voice command option. "Three tons of impact resistance?" Ethan whistled. "I could fend off zombies with this thing."

Inside, the vibe was pure opulence. Seven-meter ceilings, Fendi leather sofas that cost more than a car, a private pool, wine cellar, gym, and a home theater that could host a Netflix premiere. The backyard? A sprawling garden designed by some artsy genius—probably cost a fortune to mow. Ethan wandered, nodding. "Not bad for thirty cents. Guess I'm living the Kardashian dream now."

He crashed on a couch softer than a cloud and scrolled his phone. Then—mew, mew—a faint cry echoed outside. Curious, he cracked the door. Right then, a vision in black joggers and glasses strode up—think supermodel meets librarian. Her dark hair was swept into a messy bun, her face flawless, her vibe screaming "I'm out of your league." She froze, mid-knock, as Ethan appeared.

"Uh, hi," she said, recovering. "I'm your neighbor. My cat—little gremlin—bolted again and might've snuck into your yard. Can I check?"

"Sure thing," Ethan said, stepping aside. "I heard meowing—probably your runaway."

"Thanks," she smiled, relieved. Her kitten was a serial escape artist—third jailbreak this month. Ethan tagged along to help, and after some backyard sleuthing, he spotted a white fluffball cowering by a hedge. "Gotcha," he said, scooping it up and handing it over.

"You're a lifesaver," she beamed, cradling the furball. "I was freaking out." Worried it'd dart again, she headed out. "Oh, I'm Maya Quinn, Villa #9. Swing by sometime!"

"Ethan Black," he replied, waving.

Back inside, Ethan kicked back, eyes on the clock. Midnight was near—store refresh time. At the stroke of zero, he opened Monthly Pay $3,000, I'm the World's Richest. The shop glowed:

Bentley Continental GT, $0.20 Patek Philippe 5074R Rose Gold Watch, $0.30

Ethan's pulse spiked. The Bentley was a $500,000 beast—perfect for hauling the squad. But the Patek? A $600,000 wrist flex, dripping prestige. It edged out the car in value, so he tapped it first. Bentley's mine tomorrow.

[Purchase Confirmed: Patek Philippe 5074R Acquired – Check Your Study Desk]

He bolted to the villa's study. There it was—a sleek Patek box with certificates galore. Ethan popped it open, and the rose-gold watch gleamed, its black dial screaming "I'm expensive." Crocodile strap, perpetual calendar, moon phase, and a chime function that sounded like money. "Poor play cars, rich play watches," he grinned, slipping it on. "Guess I'm both." With the game, his car-and-watch obsession wasn't a dream—it was a shopping list.

Satisfied, he scrolled TikTok and crashed. Morning came, and sunlight revealed SkyHigh's full glory—Lake shimmering, air crisp. Ethan stepped out, ready to bounce, when a familiar figure jogged by: Maya Quinn, now in sleek workout gear, looking like she'd stepped off a Lululemon ad.

"Morning, neighbor!" she called. "Wanna lap the lake? It's better than a Peloton."

"Why not?" Ethan said. He needed the exercise—and the view wasn't bad either. They ran a loop, chatting about Westfield's quirks, then parted ways.

"Villa's cool," Ethan thought, climbing into his Ferrari, "but it's kinda… empty." A $5 million mansion, and he's calling it meh? If Bryce Tanner heard that, he'd spontaneously combust. Ethan punched the school's address into GPS and roared off.

Thirty minutes later, he hit campus, pulling up just as Sophia Winters strolled by, fresh from her own hotel exit. "Yo, Sophia!" he called. "Heading to the dorms? I'm parking nearby—hop in."

She paused, then nodded. "Sure."

The Ferrari purred through campus, drawing stares. Seven minutes later, Ethan eased into a lot near her dorm. Morning rush meant eyes everywhere, and a $600,000 supercar wasn't subtle. Phones came out, snaps fired off—everyone wanted a peek at the baller behind the wheel.

The doors winged up, and Ethan and Sophia stepped out. The crowd froze. What?! Sophia Winters, Ice Queen, rolling with a guy in a Ferrari? At 8 a.m.? Whispers exploded:

"No way—Sophia and some dude spent the night together?!" "That's Ethan Black! He owns PrimeBite, right? Dude's loaded!" "Morning drop-off in a supercar? They're def a thing!"

Campus group chats lit up, memes flying. Ethan caught the stares and smirked. Sophia, unfazed, gave a quick "Thanks" and headed off. Ethan's phone buzzed:

[Auto-Purchase Detected: Global Bank Shares, $15.00 – Acquired]

[Next Suggested Item: Private Army, $20.00]

[Warning: Reality's on Fire. Watch Your Back.]

He glanced around. That black SUV was back, parked a block away, tinted windows glaring. "Private army?" Ethan muttered. "Game's getting wild." Gossip was the least of his problems now.