Lust System: I will Cuck Everyone

"What are you doing here, Mathew? You know you are not welcome in this house." Victoria’s voice turned to pure ice.

Mathew slammed his phone down on the coffee table hard enough to make the glass rattle.

"This is my house as well. I will bloody well come and go as I please." Mathew glared at Victoria with his eyes narrowing, "Don’t you fucking dare to forget who you are."

However Victoria remained seated on the leather sofa, arms crossed, expression completely cold.

"Do you evenknow what our son has to go through in the fucking one place you were suppose to manage?" Mathew continued, his voice rising with every word that left his mouth, "Tristan’s ribs are shattered. He’s coughing blood. Some nobody named Rick Smith publicly beat him in your hotel and you did nothing!"

Victoria finally turned to look at her husband. her gaze stayed on his disgusting face for a second before turning towards her son.

"Rick Smith is not a nobody. He is a shareholder of the Peninsula Hotel. And the majority share holder at that. "Victoria’s voice stayed perfectly controlled.

"Tristan acted like a spoiled brat and provoked someone far outside his league."

She then slowly crossed her legs and leaned in, "He brought it on himself. If it were up to me, I would lock him in his room and make him think about his own stupidity."

Mathew’s face turned an ugly shade of red. He stepped closer, trying to use his bulk to intimidate her. However it had the opposite effect. Victoria covered her nose to not breathe the same air as his nauseating perfume.

"Bullshit!" he roared. "Nobody touches my son and walks away! If you are too weak to handle this street trash, I will handle it myself!"

Victoria’s ice-blue eyes narrowed with pure contempt.

"Handle it yourself?" she repeated, the scorn in her voice sharp enough to cut. "You are a grown man who still runs to his miserable old father the moment something goes wrong."

"You lost three fingers because of your own gambling. You live off government bailouts. And now you want to play the big hero by calling daddy again? How pathetic can one person actually be?"

"You bitch..." Mathew’s mouth opened and closed. The insult clearly landed.

"You shut your mouth!"

"My father still has real power in this city!"

"Just you wait. By tomorrow morning, I will have every health inspector, every tax auditor, every police unit into that hotel."

"I will have the entire place shut down for violations."

"I will freeze all your accounts, pull licenses, and make sure that Rick Smith is dragged out in handcuffs."

"He will be begging on his knees by the end of the week!"

Victoria let out a short, cold laugh.

"This is still my hotel as well, Mathew. Not yours. Not your father’s. Mine."

"You have no authority here and no idea who you are dealing with."

"Go ahead and call your father. Drag every connection you have into this. I will not stop you. But when it all blows up in your face, do not come crawling back to me."

Mathew’s chest heaved with anger and humiliation. He pointed a trembling finger at her.

"You will regret talking to me like this. When that bastard is ruined, you will see who really holds power in this city!"

He spun on his heel and stomped toward the open front doors, still muttering threats under his breath.

Victoria watched him go, her expression completely blank. Just as he reached the threshold she raised her voice, sharp and cutting.

"Mathew!"

He froze for half a second but did not turn around.

Victoria’s next words followed him into the night, cold and final.

"Stay out of my house. And stay out of my hotel."

The heavy doors remained open as his footsteps faded down the driveway. Victoria stayed on the sofa, staring at the empty doorway.

The lingering heat in her body mixed with a colder, sharper calculation.

The extra five percent.

The arrogant young chef who somehow kept getting under her skin.

She pressed her thighs together and closed her eyes for a moment, then forced herself to stand. There was work to do.

~~~~~

While Victoria was abruptly interrupted in her pleasure session, Rick stepped into his private VIP elevator and pressed the button for the underground parking garage.

The system had notified him that his surprise gift was ready to be claimed.

And as soon as the elevator doors glided open onto a brightly lit concrete expanse. The VIP garage was completely silent and smelled faintly of fresh air. This section was reserved strictly for the hotel’s top shareholders and elite guests.

"Even the air feels different for the rich."

Rick walked past a line of Lamborghinis and customised Bentleys, following the numbers on the underground pillars until he reached parking slot A-01.

As he turned the corner around a massive concrete pillar, a wicked, highly satisfied smirk completely stretched across his face.

Sitting perfectly in the centre of the spacious slot was a multi-million-dollar engineering marvel — a custom-built, matte-black Ducati Superleggera V4.

The heavy carbon-fibre body gleamed under the fluorescent lights, radiating pure, aggressive speed.

"Now this is a proper toy," Rick muttered, running his hand over the cold dark metal of the fuel tank. The God of Mischief definitely knew how to reward his chosen one.

He swung his leg over the carbon-fibre seat and gripped the aggressive, low-slung handlebars. The forward-leaning posture felt perfect. The matte-black finish made the bike look like a stealth fighter ready to tear up the asphalt.

Rick chuckled quietly, already picturing Elena sitting behind him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as they tore through the city streets at over hundred miles an hour, and her skirt blew along the breeze. The thought alone was enough to make him grin.

"Now you resort to what you do best," While Rick admired the system’s gift, the dead silence of the garage suddenly shattered, "Stealing already?"

Slow, heavy footsteps echoed across the concrete.

Rick did not panic. He lazily turned his head, cold eyes scanning the shadows, as he immediately picked up a highly aggressive, murderous aura approaching.

Roy stepped out from behind a line of parked luxury cars. The arrogant young master was still covered in thick white bandages, nose heavily splinted, eyes swollen purple from the beating Rick had given him earlier.

He was not alone.

Walking silently beside him was a lean, middle-aged man in plain dark traditional clothes. Master Li. The lethal martial arts enforcer sent by Roy’s father. His presence sucked the air out of the space. His eyes were completely empty of emotion.

"You really thought you could just walk away, you filthy beggar?" Roy sneered, voice muffled and nasal because of his broken nose. "I told you my family would destroy you. You offended the heavens when you dared to lay your dirty hands on me. Tonight you pay with your life!"

"I know a lot about you rich guys," Rick completely ignored Roy’s barking. His dark eyes locked onto the silent martial artist. Master Li’s breathing was perfectly steady. This was no ordinary street thug, "You brought a dog with you, didn’t you? Hurry up and let me put a leash on him."

"Master Li," Roy commanded, bloodshot eyes burning with pure vengeance, "Break both of his legs. Shatter his arms. Tear out his tongue. I want this trash to spend the rest of his miserable life crawling in the gutter like a disabled dog!"

Master Li gave a single silent nod. Then his body blurred.

Rick’s eyes widened slightly. Master Li crossed the twenty-foot distance in the blink of an eye. Before Rick could fully raise his hands, a devastating palm-strike slammed into his chest.

The force felt like being hit by a freight train.

"Ughh!"

Rick was launched backward and crashed hard against a concrete pillar. Sharp pain shot through his ribs. Master Li had targeted his internal meridians with terrifying precision.

"Hahaha! Look at you now, you arrogant piece of shit!" Roy laughed hysterically, spitting blood onto the concrete. "Master Li has trained in the hidden mountains for thirty years! A street rat like you is nothing but an ant waiting to be crushed!"

Master Li gave Rick no time to recover. He lunged again, launching a blinding flurry of precision strikes aimed at Rick’s throat and joints. Every move was designed for lethal, instantaneous takedowns.

Rick dodged and weaved, system-enhanced reflexes working in overdrive, but he simply lacked the refined martial technique to block everything cleanly. A sharp backhand caught him across the mouth.

Smack!

His lip split open. The metallic taste of hot blood filled his mouth.

Instead of falling to his knees, a dark, completely insane smile stretched across Rick’s bleeding face. The pain only seemed to fuel him.

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Master Li with bright, almost cheerful eyes.

"Is this the best your old bones can do?"

Rick rolled his shoulders, the smile never leaving his face.

"Now it is my turn."