Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

The interior of the Range Rover SV Autobiography hit different. This wasn't some low-slung speed demon built to scream on the highway. Nah—this was power on cruise control. The kind of luxury that didn't have to show off. It just was.

Parker sank back into the ridiculously plush leather seats, half tempted to just sink into the quilted stitching. The whole cabin felt... expensive. Not just money expensive—like old money expensive. The seats were stitched with this two-tone Ebony and Ivory leather, looking more like something out of a designer penthouse than a car.

And the wood trim? Dark, glossy, and real. None of that fake plastic crap.

Even the air felt richer. Some fancy ionization system keeping it crisp like a damn mountaintop breeze. And that sound system? A full-blown Meridian Signature, probably more powerful than most home theaters, classical music playing soft and low like the car was trying to whisper, Yeah, you made it.

Elena, though? She was shook.

Sure, she kept her posture perfect, hands at ten and two like she was giving a driving test—but her eyes? Kept drifting over the controls, tracing the soft glow of the ambient lights and that digital display so damn clean it felt futuristic.

"This thing's... something else," she muttered under her breath, voice almost reverent.

Parker smirked, leaning back with one arm slung over the door. "You're acting like we didn't just leave a dealership full of them."

Elena shook her head slightly, blinking like she was still processing it. "Yeah, but driving one hits different. You could fit a whole damn hotel lobby back here. And it feels like... floating. Not even real."

He nodded, watching Rodeo Drive come into view, all palm trees and blinding white storefronts where the cheapest thing inside probably cost more than a used car. Designer logos everywhere—Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Chanel—like the street was flexing harder than half the people walking it.

"That's the point," Parker murmured, mostly to himself. "Power doesn't make noise. It just... exists."

Elena gave him a sideways glance but stayed quiet as they eased into the luxury valet zone. The dude in the red blazer—clearly trained for this kind of crowd—nodded and opened the door with a practiced, "Welcome, sir." Not a trace of that usual side-eye teenagers got.

Parker stepped out, adjusting his black button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to flex the watch peeking from his wrist. Calm. Collected. Like he belonged here.

Elena moved to his side, looking... feeling out of place. Not in a bad way, just in that too normal for this block kind of way. And Parker? He was gonna fix that.

"You're shopping too," he said as they stepped toward Louis Vuitton's glass doors.

Her brows shot up. "Wait—what? I thought you were—"

"Everything you need," he cut in, voice low but firm. "Naomi too. No need to shy away, Elena I like sharp people who grasp it when it comes near their hands."

And just like that, the spree began.

The second they walked in, it was game over.

The store manager herself, some tall, model-looking woman in an all-black outfit so sharp it could cut glass, came straight over. Yeah, she could tell money when she saw it. "Mr. Parker, welcome to Louis Vuitton. How may we assist you today?"

He barely glanced up. "Everything." A small nod to Elena. "For her. Full wardrobe. And for her friend—same standard. Elena shop mine as well, will you?" He was too lazy to do that with her here.

Elena froze, like the words hadn't fully processed.

The manager? She was on it. Snapped her fingers, and just like that, three assistants appeared out of thin air with racks already rolling in.

First came the bags.

"May I present the Capucines MM, crafted in Ombre Alligator Leather," one assistant offered, holding the structured black handbag like it was sacred. "And this, the limited-edition Dauphine MM, a personal favorite among our ultra-VIP clients—"

"Take both," Parker said flatly, cutting off whatever sales pitch was about to happen next.

[Ding! +5 affection points!]

Elena blinked, lips parting. "Mr. Parker, I don't—"

"Don't care," he interrupted, still scanning the displays. She was worried it was too expensive? Really come on dude gets 10x back. Getting more money while buying your loyalty too.

Then came the dresses. Silk, lace, flowing, fitted—more outfits than Elena had probably worn in her life, each more expensive than the last. She was ushered into a private fitting suite so damn elegant it had mood lighting and a champagne cart, leaving Parker alone on one of the leather benches.

His phone buzzed. Some update about Infinity Holdings. He barely looked.

Elena came back out, dressed in a pale blue silk midi dress that hugged in all the right ways without being too much. Elegant.

She didn't look like a maid. She looked... polished. Like she belonged here.

"You like it?" Parker asked, tone neutral, but there was an edge of approval in his eyes.

Elena hesitated, then nodded. "It's... perfect."

"Good. Get it. And everything else."

The routine didn't change. More bags. More outfits. More moments where Elena looked seconds from protesting, only to be shut down by Parker's calm, unbothered nod.

At Dior, it finally cracked.

"Sir... this is too much," Elena whispered, standing there in a white fitted blazer with delicate embroidery that probably cost as much as a small car.

Parker met her gaze, sharp but calm. "You work for me. You represent me. So yeah, you deserve this. Do your job. Look the part."

[Ding! +3 affection points!] And just like that, the hesitation died.

By the end, two black SUVs had to be called in just to haul the boxes. The manager from Louis personally delivered the final invoice in a sleek black folder.

$350,000.

Parker didn't flinch. Just handed over the card like he was paying for lunch. "Have everything sent to the mansion by tonight. No delays."

"Of course, Mr. Parker. Thank you for your continued patronage."

The next stop was jewelry—because apparently, spending a fortune on clothes wasn't enough today.

A shop who's name Parker didn't bother to read came first, clean, glass-walled elegance with that signature robin's egg blue everywhere you looked. The kind of place where the price tags were invisible, and everyone just knew you either belonged here—or you didn't.

Parker? Yeah, he belonged.

But jewelry? Not exactly his thing. Sure, he appreciated quality. But cuts, clarity, settings? Shit, he barely knew the difference between a pendant and a brooch.

Elena, though? She lit up.

"Alright," Parker muttered, scanning a glittering wall of diamond necklaces like they were all the same damn thing. "You're the expert here. Go crazy."

Elena blinked. "Sir, I—"

Her lips parted, hesitation written all over her face before her eyes drifted toward the displays. And just like that, something shifted.

The head maid took control.

Elena moved like she belonged in those glass cases, running her fingertips lightly over the platinum and rose gold selections, inspecting details Parker didn't give two shits about but respected all the same.

She whispered with the jeweler, nodding with that professional, no-nonsense aura she always had.

"Sir, this," she finally said, holding up a white gold diamond bracelet that caught the light just right. Elegant. Understated. Classy as hell. "Naomi would love this. And for formal events...maybe this set?"

A sapphire pendant with matching earrings. Subtle but rich. Parker nodded. "Yeah. Looks good. Wrap it up."

Then the watches. Harry Winston next door felt even richer somehow. Dark wood, velvet cushions, the whole place reeked of old money and then more bramsa Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire

Parker squinted at a $500,000 timepiece. "Why the hell do people spend this much on something that just tells time?"

The salesman, a sharp-suited older guy with a French accent thick enough to spread on toast, didn't even flinch. "Monsieur, a true timepiece is not about function—it's about presence."

Parker side-eyed Elena. "Presence, huh?"

Elena, lips twitching, muttered, "He's not wrong."

He smirked. "Alright, fine. Pick something that'll make people lose their shit when they see it." And damn, did she deliver.

Elena chose a Patek Philippe Grand Complications—rose gold with a skeleton dial so intricate it looked like watchmaking art. For him and Naomi, she went with a Cartier Ballon Bleu—sleek, elegant, and a lot more subtle but just as expensive.

The total? $850,000.

The card? No hesitation. He felt like a swipe immortal now.

As Parker signed the final paperwork, the French jeweler bowed slightly, handing over a sleek black envelope.

"For you, monsieur. A personal invitation to our exclusive gala next month. We rarely extend such offers, but your taste—"

"Yeah, yeah." Parker took the envelope with a nod. "Thanks. Send everything to the mansion. Tonight."

As they left the watch and jewelry shop, Elena trailing behind with wide eyes, Parker caught her glancing at the receipt like it was some kind of ancient scroll.

"You good?"

She blinked up at him, cheeks a little pink. "You just spent a millions of dollars today. On clothes and jewelry."

He shrugged, tossing her the Range Rover keys again.

"It's just money. Take it as a thank you gift for helping me choose my things too." With billions in his card, millions for his and their clothes and necessities, felt like nothing. Now it was time to visit Tiffany and Co.