Your Hate Made Me A Billionaire

Summary

I was bonded to the Spite System.

Every point of spite I provoked in others translated into a ten-thousand-dollar deposit in my bank account.

It was Thanksgiving, the air thick with the smell of roasted turkey and the even thicker tension of family judgment. My Aunt Martha leaned back, a saccharine smile plastered on her face as she looked me up and down. "Sam, looks like you’ve been eating well. You’ve definitely... filled out since last year."

I smiled back, the picture of filial piety. "I could say the same, Auntie. You’ve really aged into your years. What is it now?