I stared up at the fairy lights strung across Luna's bedroom ceiling, the soft golden glow painting everything in dream haze, and I laughed—deep, uncontrollable, chest-shaking laughter that vibrated through every naked body pressed against mine.

The women stirred.

Emma mumbled something incoherent her bare thigh sliding higher along mine, cunt warm and slightly slick from earlier skin-on-skin contact.

Celeste's grip on my hand tightened, her heavy breasts flattening harder against my ribs, nipples stiff from the sudden movement.

Gabrielle shifted at my feet, one hand instinctively sliding up my calf to rest protectively over my balls again, as if grounding me.

Luna lifted her head, dark hair spilling over my chest, her own full tits dragging softly across my skin. "Peter?" Her voice was thick with sleep and concern, medical instincts kicking in even half-conscious. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, baby," I managed between laughs, wiping at my eyes. "Just… stuff."

"Master," ARIA's calm voice filtered through the neural link, low enough not to wake the whole house but clear in my head, "you're forgetting the boxes."

Right. The Supreme Mystery Box. Not a regular mystery box. Not even a Super Mystery Box that I was getting from the Charlotte Mission—the kind I'd once thought was peak system generosity. No. Supreme. And that was just one.

The empire mission dangled four more of the damn things.

I still didn't know the exact grading hierarchy—Regular → Super → Supreme → ?—and honestly, asking would ruin the mystery.

Part of me wanted to keep the surprise intact.

Then there were the 3× 100% Duplicate Cards. Second time the system had dangled those in front of me.

Taboo—gods bless her wicked, teasing soul—had smirked when I first asked about them during the beach mission.

"Check them when the time is most right," she'd purred. I'd pressed: "And when's that?" She'd just licked her lips and said, "You'll know."

Cryptic bitch. Fine. I'd wait. The right moment would scream when it arrived.

"Your heart rate just jumped moments ago," Luna murmured, pressing her palm flat over my pounding chest. "And your pupils are dilated. Adrenaline spike. Doesn't sound like just stuff. Care to share with the class?"

"Just realized I'm about to become part of the 0.1% of the 0.1%, baby. Three trillion dollars."

"Mmm," she hummed, nuzzling back down, lips brushing my nipple. "That's nice. Can the existential crisis wait until morning?"

Celeste cracked one eye open. "Did someone say trillion?"

"Peter's having delusions of grandeur again," Gabrielle muttered sleepily from the foot of the bed, fingers still loosely curled around my sack like a security blanket.

"They're not delusions if you can actually fucking do them," Emma pointed out, propping herself up on one elbow. Her tits shifted heavily with the movement, nipples dark against the fairy-light glow. "Also—three trillion? Holy shit, Peter."

"Language," I said on reflex.

She snorted. "You literally just shouted 'what the fuck in hell' loud enough to wake the entire east wing."

"Fair point."

"So, we're going to be trillionaires?" Celeste asked, accent thickening with sleep and sudden interest. She propped herself higher, one breast spilling free from the tangle of limbs, dark nipple grazing my arm.

"We are going to build an empire that dominates every legitimate sector," I corrected, voice dropping into that low, commanding register they all responded to. "The trillions are just fuel. In five years Liberation Empire will be in tech, medical, hospitality, retail, entertainment, aerospace, energy, telecoms—everything except the shit that hurts people without consent."

Since they were already building beside me—pushing their own knowledge caps, carving out their domains—might as well paint the full horizon.

"In five years?" Gabrielle sat up fully now, naked and unselfconscious, event-planner brain already spinning timelines and logistics.

"Five years for full dominance. Two months for the first public trillion wipe."

"Two months for what?" Luna was bolt upright now, breasts swaying with the sudden motion. I explained to them I was about to wipe the markets.

"Peter, that's—"

"Insane? Impossible? Absolutely fucking legendary?"

"I was going to say 'aggressively psychotic,' but those work too."

"Master," ARIA cut in smoothly, "with current war-chest reserves and my execution capabilities, the trillion extraction is achievable in 30–47 days, depending on volatility and black-swan events. But only if I'm really holding back."

"Make it thirty," I said, voice hard. "And make it so public every finance minister on the planet shits themselves when they see the number vanish live on Bloomberg."

"You're really going to break the global economy, aren't you?" Emma asked, half awed, half horrified.

"Not break. Reshape. Show them there's someone out there who can move a trillion like it's pocket change, erase it from existence, and vanish. Become the ghost story every trading floor tells at 3 a.m."

"Mon Dieu," Celeste breathed. "The panic alone will trigger cascading sell-offs."

"Good. Panic is fertilizer. Opportunity grows fastest in chaos."

"Sleep first," I ordered, pulling them all in tighter—naked skin sliding against naked skin, warmth and softness and quiet strength wrapping around me. "World domination planning starts at sunrise. Even future trillionaires need rest."

Luna pressed a soft kiss to my sternum. "Peter… you know we don't care about the money, right? We're in this because we believe in what we're building. Together."

"I know, baby. That's why I love y'all so fucking much. You could coast on what we already have—live like goddesses without lifting a finger. Instead you're grinding, learning, growing your own power, adding real muscle to the empire. Partners. Not passengers."

"Together," Celeste whispered.

"Together," the others echoed, voices soft but certain.

"This is all very touching," ARIA deadpanned, "but shall I begin passive market-positioning for the extraction?"

"In the morning, ARIA. Tonight is for family."

"Understood. Though I should note that 'family' now encompasses twenty-plus women across multiple properties, several of whom are likely wondering why the master suite is empty."

"They'll understand. Sometimes a man needs his fairy-light sanctuary with his first followers."

"First followers?" Emma laughed, the sound bright in the dim glow. "Is that our official title now?"

"You're my foundation," I said, dead serious. "Luna was third through the door. Emma—you're my sister in growing up and soul. Celeste and Gabrielle were part of the Miami breakthrough that cracked everything open. You were there before it was an empire. Before the world even knew the name Liberation existed."

"We'll always be here," Luna promised, fingers tracing my jaw.

"Even when you're literally the richest human who ever lived," Gabrielle added.

"Especially then," Celeste murmured. "Someone has to keep you grounded."

"Or at least hold you while you plot planetary domination," Emma finished on a yawn.

I laughed again—quieter this time—and looked up at the fairy lights one last time.

Tomorrow the clock would start.

A financial heist that would birth legends.

The first true step toward touching every corner of legitimate human commerce.

But tonight?

Tonight I had my women—brilliant, naked, fiercely loyal—curled around me like living armor. Minds that chose to build instead of simply benefit. Hearts that beat in time with mine.

Three trillion dollars would be fucking incredible.

But this moment—this tangle of limbs, laughter, and unshakable trust—was already priceless.

[System Notice: Missions Accepted]

[Trillion Dollar Dream Timer: 59 Days, 23 Hours, 47 Minutes]

[Empire of Everything Timer: 4 Years, 364 Days, 23 Hours, 47 Minutes]

[The world has no fucking idea what's coming, Master. Sweet dreams, future destroyer of markets.]

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