Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Chapter 96 Oblivious Of Consequences

The flight back to Los Angeles was smooth, the cityscape sprawling endlessly beneath the jet's windows as the sun dipped low, casting a golden glow across the skyline. Hours later, the private terminal at LAX felt cold and quiet compared to the chaos of New York.

Waiting at the curb was his car—a red McLaren Speedtail, polished to perfection, its sleek curves gleaming under the airport lights. The valet, dressed in black, handed him the keys with a respectful nod.

Parker slipped a few crisp bills into the man's hand without a word, the silent exchange as effortless as breathing.

Sliding into the leather seat, the low hum of the engine rumbled beneath him, a beast purring with restrained power. The city felt familiar, yet oddly hollow as he sped through the streets, weaving past late-night traffic with fluid precision.

The elevator ride to his penthouse at Blackstone Tower was eerily quiet. The doors parted with a soft chime, revealing the vast, modern space—floor-to-ceiling windows capturing the glittering city skyline. Yet, for all its luxury, it felt... empty. Lifeless.

Just him. And Ere.

The magical feline emerged from his shadow, silent as ever, curling up on the armrest while Parker collapsed into the couch. Not from exhaustion, but the weight of it all—the chaos, the memories. New York. Ava. The celebration. The... mistakes. Oblivious of the consequences of his actions that will come back, either to bite him or come into fruition

But he couldn't dwell on those thoughts now.

He needed a plan.

His return to Beverly meant facing the Blackwoods. The family that had tormented him for over a decade. Julian first. Then the rest.

A slow exhale escaped him, but his jaw clenched tight as old memories resurfaced—the winters, then when Julian and his friends used him as a human punching bag daily. The bruises. The humiliation.

The fucking pain.

The Blackwoods had long since carved their mark into his soul, their cruelty not just lingering—it defined him. Julian had been the first, the golden son who tormented him for sport. Robert, their enabler, blind to the suffering.

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And the mother of that monster, Helena.

Cold. Dismissive. Watching it all unfold with her sharp eyes. "If you want it to stop, find who you are," she'd said. Before turning her back and siding with them.

Julian. Annabelle.

No.

They wouldn't get away with it. Not this time. Not ever.

His revenge would be sweet. Calculated. The kind of punishment they'd never see coming and it would start with Julian.

They wanted a demon?

They were about to meet one.

Parker's mind was a fortress—cold, calculated, and unforgiving. He didn't think like other teenagers. While most kids his age worried about grades, parties, or fleeting romances, Parker had long since shed the naivety of youth. His thoughts moved like a chess grandmaster's, every decision weighed, every consequence calculated.

Emotion was a tool, not a weakness. Vulnerability, a liability.

And now, as he returned to LA, that mindset sharpened further. The Blackwoods—his so-called family—would never see him coming. To them, he was still the quiet, disposable relative, the boy they tolerated out of obligation.

But they had never truly understood him. Not when they let Julian, Annabelle, humiliate him for years. Not when Robert turned a blind eye, and Helena—his own blood—stood by, offering him nothing but condescending advice about finding his strength.

But Parker had found his strength. It had just taken longer than they expected.

Now, he was coming back not as the forgotten nephew but as a storm they couldn't contain. They wouldn't know the full extent of his transformation until it was too late. And it wasn't just about money, power, or influence. Those were tools, weapons he would wield with precision—but revenge? That was personal.

Julian. The golden boy. His tormentor.

The memory of those brutal winters still burned— venting their frustrations on him with no fear of consequence? The humiliation? The bruises? The mocking sneers? But Parker had changed. He wasn't some weakling desperate for acceptance anymore.

He was power now. Influence. Control. Yet some how these memories kept mentioning themselves over and over in his mind manifesting repeated promises of what he was going to let them face.

The thoughts didn't excite him; they grounded him. This wasn't about losing control in rage. It was not about justice, correction but punishment, revenge.

His return to Beverly Hills was inevitable, but this time, it would be on his terms.

The tension of his homecoming wasn't something he feared—it was something he controlled. And while they might expect the same quiet, submissive Parker to walk back through the doors of the Blackwood estate, they would be wrong.

Dead wrong.

The decision to return to Beverly Hills earlier than planned wasn't impulsive—it was a calculated move. Two days ahead of schedule.

Parker didn't believe in random whims, not anymore. Every step was deliberate, each action layered with purpose. His return needed to be on his terms, and the first order of business was to visit the mansion he had acquired after his financial rise.

The sprawling estate nestled deep in Beverly Hills wasn't just a trophy. It was a statement. His foothold he will set.

His planning began in the penthouse as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, painting the skyline in hues of gold and ember. Parker made a call to the hotel's private service, instructing them to restore the suite to pristine order. He packed light—just the essentials into a Louis Vuitton Horizon Soft Duffle, its matte black finish sleek yet understated, perfect for his taste.

He threw a few things in his inventory but not so much. Just essentials he couldn't leave behind.

His gaze drifted toward the three key fobs on the marble counter. One red. Two black.

The red fob for his McLaren Speedtail. The black? That would stay with his mercedes too. He wasn't sure how often he'd be back in here—if ever. And the penthouse? Such details could be dealt with another day. This time he had a destination.

Ere sat quietly, watching him from the countertop with those intelligent, silver eyes as he zipped the duffle. The cat had always seemed to understand him better than most humans ever could.

"Let's go," Parker murmured, picking up the bag with one hand and the red key fob with the other. Ere padded after him silently.