HPDBC Chapter 3: Stamp Holder Detected
Chapter 3: Stamp Holder Detected
Chapter 3: Stamp Holder Detected
I made my way downstairs to the garage, picking up my backpack on the way.
The original Nico had been a senior at the university, and I needed to continue that role for now, at least until I could get the ball rolling on my plan.
So, how do I get there? I searched my memories and frowned. "That can't be true."
My legs led me to the garage and opened the door to confirm what my memories were telling me.
It was empty.
No sports cars. No luxury sedans. Nothing.
The original Nico didn't even like to drive. He'd taken the bus to university to avoid drawing attention to himself.
And this brings me to the question. Who in the heavens has access to as much money as he wants but still doesn't want to buy a scooter? An ordinary scooter?!
I could feel my annoyance building up inside me, but I swallowed it down. Now was not the time for this.
"Bus it is." I muttered to myself.
As I walked out of the mini mansion and stepped out onto the street, I took a deep breath. This was the start. The first step in a long journey.
I didn't have any Stamp Holders in sight yet, but I knew they were out there.
Ninety-nine women stood between me and the future I wanted, and I would seduce every last one of them if I had to.
Every thousand miles journey began with a thousand steps and mine began with walking to the bus stop.
As exciting as it was to know that I had a system that could turn my life around, that excitement was tempered by the fact that I was still taking the bus.
The empty garage back home was like a noticeboard, reminding me of just how far behind I was compared to my stepsisters.
They all had their luxury rides and chauffeurs, while I was left standing at a bus stop like every other broke college student. That was one thing I couldn't wait to change.
When the bus arrived, I climbed in, only to be greeted by every citizen's worst nightmare. A packed crowd. Every seat was taken. I had no other choice but to stand like the commoner that I was.
I sighed, gripping the rail above my head. I died trying to catch the bus and now I had to repeat the same scene except this time, I actually caught the bus.
The only possible outcome I can see from approaching her now would be her brushing me off or maybe even publicly humiliating me.
This wasn't the time or place to make a move.
I held off, figuring there would be another opportunity when the moment was right. For now, I needed to play it cool and keep my head down. If I came on too strong, I could blow my chance.
As we neared the university bus stop, the bus driver suddenly slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched as a car sped recklessly into the university gates barely missing the bus.
The sudden jolt sent everyone lurching forward. Mila's coffee cup tipped, and before I could react, splashed coffee across my shirt.
"Hey, watch it!" The driver yelled at the roaring sports car.
"Fuck!" I cursed, glaring down at the brown stain that was now spreading across my chest. I'll have to get a new shirt.
The other bus passengers were murmuring in annoyance as they tried to steady themselves, but Mila had already moved, slipping out of the bus as soon as it stopped. She didn't even look my way or stop to apologize.
"Oh no, you don't." I growled under my breath, following her out of the bus.
"Hey!" I called after her, stepping in front of her path. "You spilled your coffee all over my shirt. What are you going to do about it?"
Mila froze. Her face was hidden behind those oversized sunglasses, but I could tell by the way she clenched her jaw that she wasn't used to being confronted like this, especially by someone she likely saw as beneath her.
With an irritated sigh, she reached into her bag and pulled out a glossy business card. She practically shoved it into my hand, her voice flat and dismissive. "Call me."
Without waiting for me to respond, she walked away, disappearing into the backseat of a luxury car that had just pulled up.
The vehicle sped off, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, holding her card and staring down at my ruined shirt.
Mila Devon.
Her contact information was neatly printed on the card in gold lettering, but I doubt it actually led to her personal phone.
It didn't matter though. She might have been trying to brush me off, but she had given me an opening.
Just as I slipped the card into my pocket, a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Holy Shit! Was that... Mila Devon?"