The Maybach Imperium slid silently out of LAX's private roadways and onto the freeway.

The two matte-black Suburbans fell into place instantly, one tailing, the other hovering in the next lane with, their tinted windows revealed nothing.

Los Angeles traffic, already a constant tide, rippled outward as drivers noticed the formation. Horns faltered, brakes tapped, and then came the phones.

"Yo, that's the car! The Maybach!" a teenager shouted from the backseat of a Prius, already shoving his phone against the glass.

"No way… and look at the SUVs. That's feds, bro. He's got feds with him!" another voice yelled as cars swerved slightly to keep pace.

A Dodge Charger tried to inch closer, its driver leaning out with his phone, but the trailing Suburban slid sideways, smooth and deliberate, boxing the lane. The Charger fell back, the driver cursing.

On the sidewalks, pedestrians stopped mid-step, staring. Some screamed, pointing, others livestreamed. Within minutes, hashtags from the airport were joined by new ones:

#MaybachConvoy

#FedEscortLA

#BlackTitanDrive

Daniel sat in the backseat, jaw tight, eyes flicking from the tinted SUVs to the endless rows of phones recording them. Mason was scanning their mirrors like a hawk, while Nick continued driving and holding in his nerves.

Through it all, Liam leaned back in the seat, utterly calm, watching LA blur past. Neon lights flickered on across Wilshire, casting shifting glows across the hood. To him, the Suburbans weren't intimidation.

The convoy rolled northward, cutting toward Beverly Hills, then deeper into Holmby Hills. Here, the chaos of the city dimmed, the wide boulevards lined with old trees and iron gates.

At last, the Maybach slowed, turning onto a private street. The Suburbans followed — but as the Imperium glided up the long drive toward Bellemere Mansion's gates, the SUVs stopped.

Engines idled as black silhouettes behind tinted glass watched silently as the gates swung open at Liam's arrival. The Maybach purred through, the wrought-iron closing behind them with a faint clang.

The Suburbans waited for a few minutes, their presence lingering like shadows at the edge of the street, before at last they rolled off into the night.

Inside, the Cabriolet pulled smoothly up to the front steps. The sprawling mansion glowed warmly against the dark, light spilling from tall windows onto manicured lawns.

Mason got out of the car first, circling to open the rear door. Liam stepped out, straightening his shirt. Daniel followed, his composure still frayed from the day's events.

"Come in. Let's have dinner," Liam said casually, turning toward his Family Office Manager, Daniel.

Daniel looked at Liam for a moment, as he pondered the offer. After a brief moment, he nodded, accepting the offer. He was famished. He didn't eat both on their way to the island and back home.

Liam smiled and walked into the mansion.

"Welcome home, sir," Evelyn said softly as the door opened.

Clara and Mira were standing behind her, their faces poised in polite smiles. But beneath that poise Liam noticed the subtle details: the stiffness in their shoulders and the slight tremor in their voices.

He knew that they'd seen that they had watched the news and seen how the internet was blowing up because of him. They had watched as the black A380 tore into the sky, and the world had seen it land. They had watched the Maybach glide out of Hangar 14 under federal escort.

The girls had tried to act like it was just another evening for them, a regular Tuesday, but their eyes betrayed them.

They were shocked, nervous and a little afraid.

They couldn't help it, as their phones has been blowing up with messages and calls from people that are aware that they are working for Liam. They didn't dare pick the calls or reply the messages, as they are aware that they will be bombarded with questions that they have no answer for.

But while the girls were riled up by everything, they didn't let that stop them from doing their job.

"Dinner?" Evelyn asked after the greetings were exchanged.

"Yes. Dinner first," Liam nodded and his gaze flicked toward Daniel. "Mr. Conley will be joining me."

The girls inclined their heads in unison and turned smoothly toward the dining hall. As they moved, one by one, each spared a brief glance at Daniel, their eyes curious but polite. Daniel gave a small nod of acknowledgment, as he could also see the question in their eyes.

Liam and Daniel ushered themselves into the dining hall, where the table has already being laid out with china and crystal. The scent of roasted lamb and herbs floated from the kitchen.

Within minutes, Liam and Daniel were seated across from one another. Mason and Nick positioned themselves just outside the doors, watchful and silent.

Dinner began quietly. Plates were set before them, wine were poured, and the girls retreated just enough to give them privacy, though their presence lingered at the edge of the room.

Daniel cut into his food immediately, but he barely tasted it. His eyes kept drifting upward, as though every carved detail in the mansion's ceilings was an attempt to distract him from the avalanche of questions clawing at his throat.

Liam, for his part, ate slowly, savoring each bite. He noticed Daniel's hesitation. He could almost feel the questions pressing forward, demanding release — Where did you get it? How did you pay for it? Who really funds you? Why flaunt it?

But Daniel said nothing. He was too disciplined for that. Too trained to ask reckless questions at the wrong time.

And Liam let him be.

He knew Daniel was tired, mentally and emotionally wrung out by the chaos of the day. Even the girls, moving quietly around the periphery, had that same tightness in their movements.

They had done their jobs flawlessly, but he could tell they were carrying questions as well. The same questions echoing on every news broadcast and on the internet.

Who is he, really?

What kind of eighteen-year-old commands toys like this?

And what happens now that the whole world is watching?

Liam knew none of the answers he could give would satisfy them. Because the truth wasn't simple. And the truth was that he has no intention of giving them any answer.

And so dinner was quiet. When the meal ended, Liam pushed back his chair and wiped his hands with a linen napkin. Daniel followed suit, setting his utensils down with a small sigh.

The girls moved forward again, clearing the plates.

"Thank you," Liam said as he rose. His voice was warm and genuine. Despite everything, he treated his staff not as tools, but as extensions of his world. They mattered to him.

Daniel also stood up, adjusting his jacket. He looked like he wanted to speak, to finally ask at least one of the burning questions, but then he hesitated.

He saw Liam's calm expression, saw the way the young man seemed utterly untouched by the storm raging outside these walls, and the words died on his lips.

Instead, Daniel gave a professional nod. "It was an excellent meal. Thank you."

The girls curtsied politely.

"You'll be needing rest," Liam said lightly. "Nick will drive you back. Take the Rolls. Your car is still at the airport, yes?"

Daniel opened his mouth to object — it was instinct. He was used to handling things himself, but Liam's next words left no room for argument.

"You won't take public transport tonight. Let Nick drive you."

Daniel sighed softly, lowering his eyes for a beat before nodding. "As you wish, sir."

Liam smiled faintly. "Good man."

He gestured toward the doors. Nick stepped forward immediately, already prepared.

Daniel gave Liam one final glance — a look of resignation — then he followed Nick out into the night.

The front doors closed with a heavy thud, leaving Liam alone with the girls in the golden-lit dining hall.

Liam exhaled softly, turned, and ascended the sweeping staircase. He reached the master suite, pushed open the door, walked in and let himself fall onto the bed with a long sigh.

The day had been long, exhausting in its spectacle, but it was over. For him, at least.

But not for the rest of the world.

Because while he stretched across silk sheets and closed his eyes, the storm of questions still outside raged on, but the most asked was:

Who is Liam Scott?

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