"Confirmed. Host, would you like to use the Company Acquisition Card to acquire WhaleStream now?"
The system's robotic voice echoed in Jack's mind, cold and emotionless.
"Use it," Jack said without hesitation.
"Please state the percentage of equity to be acquired," the system prompted.
Jack fell silent for a moment. He could go for a full 100% and own the entire company. But if he did that, he'd be burdened with managing the company day-to-day. That wasn't his style—he was used to living a carefree life. Managing a corporate empire? No thanks.
"System, check the current ownership distribution of WhaleStream," he said after a brief pause.
"Current majority shareholder: Michael Dawson. He owns 21% of WhaleStream and serves as both the Chairman and General Manager," the system reported.
Jack's brows lifted slightly. Just 21% and he's already chairman? Interesting. He thought for a moment, then said, "System, is it possible to acquire shares excluding Michael Dawson's portion?"
"Yes, that is possible," the system responded in its usual emotionless tone.
"Great. Then acquire 51% of WhaleStream, excluding Michael Dawson's shares."
"Acknowledged. Initiating acquisition process..."
"Progress: 1%... 25%... 67%... 100%. Acquisition completed."
"Ding! Congratulations, Host. You've successfully used the Company Acquisition Card to acquire 51% of WhaleStream's shares."
Jack's eyes lit up with satisfaction. Owning a controlling stake without having to micromanage—perfect.
"System, give me Michael Dawson's contact information."
Moments later, Jack input the number into his phone and hit dial.
At that moment, Michael Dawson was pacing in his office, clearly uneasy. He had received word that someone had just acquired over 51% of WhaleStream. He was stunned—and anxious. Whoever this person was, they clearly had deep pockets. He had more than enough money himself, but power... power was addictive. The idea of losing his position made his skin crawl.
He had thought about calling the new majority owner himself, but doing so uninvited might seem presumptuous.
Just then, his phone rang.
The unknown number on the screen sent a jolt through him.
He took a deep breath, composed himself, and answered.
"Hello, Mr. Jacobs," he said respectfully. He had no idea who this man truly was, but anyone with the power to buy out a majority stake in WhaleStream deserved deference.
"Mr. Dawson," Jack said casually, "you'll remain as General Manager. You'll be in charge of all company operations. I won't be interfering."
Michael's eyes lit up. Relief flooded his chest, followed by joy. His position was safe!
"Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.". I won't disappoint you."
Jack chuckled inwardly. The man was clearly grateful—but that worked in his favor.
"There's one more thing," Jack said, his tone turning a bit colder. "The tipping limit on the platform—it's too low. I need it raised. I want to be able to send one hundred million in a single transaction."
Michael's jaw dropped. A hundred million?! This guy was on another level.
In that instant, Michael's brain started connecting the dots. That mysterious account on WhaleStream—the one tipping with insane generosity... Could it be?
"Mr. Jacobs, do you happen to know someone on WhaleStream who goes by the username 'Ordinary Dreamer'?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "That's me. Why?"
Michael nearly dropped the phone. It was him! The legendary whale who tipped millions like it was spare change.
"N-nothing, sir. I'll have the technical team enable a custom tipping privilege for you right away," he stammered.
"Good. That'll be all."
Jack ended the call and smiled with satisfaction. Owning the company had its perks.
Opening the WhaleStream app, Jack noticed a red notification—Private Messages: 1000+.
"Huh?" he blinked. "All that from a few tips?"
Tapping into his inbox, he saw a familiar name at the top of the list: "YuerongIsAFairy" — 100+ unread messages.
He opened the most recent one:
"Mr. Dreamer... why won't you respond to me?" Followed by a teary-eyed emoji.
And then: "Did I do something wrong?" with a pouty face.
Jack couldn't help but smile. Of all the streamers, she had left the deepest impression. No gaudy makeup, no excessive flirting. She just sang—pure and soulful. Her voice... it carried weight, depth. That alone had earned his respect.
"Sorry, I just saw this. I've been busy lately, haven't logged in." He replied.
A notification chimed instantly.
"You're back?! Are you really here right now? 😭"
"Yeah. I'm here."
What Jack didn't know was that over the past few days, Yuerong had been a nervous wreck. Despite receiving a jaw-dropping one hundred million in tips, she hadn't felt joy—only anxiety. Who was this person? What did they want? Why her?
Her real name was FairyRong, a junior at Riverton School of Arts. The sudden windfall had turned her world upside down.
"Can I treat you to dinner?" she messaged, followed by a hopeful emoji.
Jack looked at the time. It was nearing dinner anyway.
"Sure. Where are you? I'll pick you up."
"I'm at Riverton School of Arts! 💃"
"Got it. I'll be there in about thirty minutes. Here's my number."
"Okay! 😊"
Jack slipped his phone into his pocket and headed downstairs.
In a cozy upstairs bedroom, Emily Carter lay fast asleep. Jack walked in quietly, saw her resting peacefully, and gently draped a soft blanket over her.
Leaning down, he kissed her forehead lightly.
She stirred slightly, but didn't wake.
As Jack walked away, Emily's eyes fluttered open. She gazed at the door he had just walked through, her expression a mix of emotions. Reaching up to touch her forehead where he'd kissed her, she smiled sweetly before drifting back into sleep.
Outside, Jack hopped into his black Venom sports car and revved the engine. The sleek beast growled to life, and he shot off toward Riverton School of Arts.
It was rush hour. The roads were packed. But the moment people saw the Venom weaving through traffic, they instinctively pulled over.
Behind the wheel, Jack's driving skills—honed to a racer's level—shone brilliantly. He shifted gears effortlessly, cutting through traffic like a phantom.
In a beat-up sedan a few cars behind, a blond punk with dyed yellow hair was fuming.
"Boss lady! That guy's driving like he owns the damn road! Let's teach him a lesson and show him who really rules this city!"
His words were met with silence at first.
Then, a low voice replied, "We'll see if he's got more than just speed."