Morning arrived in Charlestown like a bright slap of sunlight—clean, sharp, and full of promise. The city stirred awake with the smell of warm pavement and citrus cleaners drifting out of early cafés. Sparrows hopped across fences, delivery trucks rumbled through lanes, and a slow river of residents began moving through their morning rituals.
Inside Crimson Hill Villa, Steven Blake stood before his bathroom mirror, sleeves rolled up, hair half-dried from a quick shower. He wasn't the type who needed long preparations. A splash of cool water, a stretch to loosen the shoulders, a shirt that wouldn't wrinkle under his jacket—that was enough. Yet he lingered there longer than usual, watching his reflection with a faint, almost amused smirk.
Today wasn't just any day.
Today was the unofficial beginning of everything that came next.
His phone rang.
The name Veronica lit the screen.
Steven felt the smile before he felt the thought. He answered with a warmth he didn't bother hiding. "Good morning."
"Steven." Her voice chimed through the speaker—fresh, cheerful, already full of momentum. "Mira and I are going shopping. Clothes, accessories, everything. You're coming too. Be ready in an hour."
Steven leaned against the sink. "Do you need me or my wallet?"
"I can use both."Her answer was immediate.
Steven laughed softly. "Alright. I'll be ready."
He hung up, pocketed the phone, and headed downstairs.
By nine, the four of them were a moving vignette across downtown Charlestown—Steven driving the Porsche, Leon leaning out the window like he was born in a music video, Veronica sat quietly radiating elegance even in a casual dress, and Mira sipping iced coffee and humming along to the radio.
They parked in a multilevel garage and headed into the market district.
The streets buzzed with weekend energy; sunlight bounced off storefront windows, and bright displays created a pulsing rhythm of color.
They started with boutiques. Veronica stepped into Seraphine Boutique, one of the chic fashion houses downtown—the kind where even the mannequins held their poses like royalty.
As soon as they stepped in, Veronica transformed.The cool, composed heiress became a hurricane of fabrics.
"We're going to AIISA," she declared, hands on hips. "We need to look good. I refuse to let anyone from New York or Florida outdress me."
Mira nodded vigorously. "Yes, we need a wardrobe renaissance. We need outfits for everything. Classes, clubs, galas, dorm life, and at least ten emergencies we haven't thought of yet."
Leon groaned. "Do we even need clothes there? Can't we just go as we are?"
"No," both girls said in perfect harmony.
The girls vanished into a cyclone of silk, linen, and tailoring. Mirrors flashed like paparazzi. Veronica tried on a white linen blazer that made her look like she was born on a magazine cover. Mira found a floral pattern so bright she glowed every time she twirled.
And then Steven… found himself shoved into a fitting room. He didn't stand a chance.
"For research purposes," Veronica said, pushing a pile of shirts into his arms.
"Research for what?" he asked.
"For how handsome you look in different cuts," she replied, closing the door.
And so he tried them—shirts, jackets, hoodies, fitted tees, even a soft beige coat Veronica insisted he buy because "this screams CEO who doesn't try, but obviously wins."
Steven wasn't a fashion man. He had lived half his life wearing whatever fit, whatever was comfortable. But with his build, the clothes fit too well.
Steven stepped out of the changing room wearing a black shirt and tailored navy blazer.
Veronica let out a low whistle. "Okay—now you look like the CEO you are."
Every time he stepped out of the room, Mira clapped, Veronica hummed approvingly, and Leon muttered, "Bro, you're making us look bad. Tone it down."
"Let's take them all," Veronica declared.
Steven rolled his eyes. "I'm not buying twenty outfits."
"You're dating me," she countered. "You signed up for the lifestyle."
He had no retort for that.
Leon wasn't spared either. Mira forced Leon into jackets and blazers, and the boutique attendants watched with fascinated smiles.
Leon emerged in a white linen shirt and sunglasses.Mira clapped like she'd discovered a rare bird species."Yes! You look like a billionaire trying to hide from paparazzi!"
Leon puffed up smugly. "I am paparazzi-worthy."
By the time they were done, Veronica and Mira had collected enough bags to start a boutique of their own. Steven paid for them all without blinking, while Veronica looped his arm smugly and whispered, "You offered."
Next came The Horloge Room—a luxurious watch store. Here, choices were made with quiet reverence. Steven selected a leather-strap Rolex for daily wear and a Patek Philippe for formal events. Leon picked a high-end Casio G-Shock and a Patek Philippe,
Veronica chose a slender Cartier, then made her greatest move of the day—she bought matching couple watches for her and Steven.
Mira, competitive as ever, did the same for herself and Leon. Leon looked at his watch, then at Mira, then at Steven.
"…We're not copying you," Leon defended.
"No one said anything," Steven replied, amused.
After all that, they went to an Apple store. Cold lighting. Glass cabinets. Devices arranged like museum artifacts.
Steven instantly shifted gears. File structures, processor architecture, power efficiency—his eyes scanned specs faster than the staff could recite them. The young salesperson stammered along, unaware Steven already knew more than their entire department.
"Get a tablet," Veronica teased, watching him examine a display model. "You'll probably build your next empire with a stylus."
Steven smirked.
By the time they left, each one had a MacBook Pro, the latest iPhone, an iPad, AirPods, and smartwatches.
Steven went beyond that—purchasing seven more iPhones, an extra MacBook, and a full tech set for his sister Lily.
"He is spoiling Lily again." Veronica said. "He spoils you, too." Mira teased playfully.
Earlier the staff had assumed they were window shoppers—young, casual, not dripping with brand logos. So they sent the least experienced employee to "handle the students".
Sadly for them, Steven had dumped all their shopping haul from before back in the car before coming to the store, or the sales staff wouldn't have made that mistake.
That employee just scored the biggest sale of the week. If commission was a blessing, then Steven must have been a god for that salesperson.
When Steven stashed the bags inside the already-stuffed Porsche Cayenne, he realized they had filled every seat except the driver's.
"Looks like we need another car. Wait, I will ask my people to bring one over." Steven said as he took out his phone to call Alex.
"Wait, wait," Leon hurriedly stopped Steven. "Hey, we are going to AIISA. That's the den of sons and daughters of rich, influential families, heirs of business empires and all. They will all be driving luxury cars there. We need our own cars on campus. Why not just buy them here?"
Steven stopped and, after a moment of thought, said, "That's not a bad idea." Soon, the group made their way to a car dealership.
The sun was at its peak when the group pulled into Charlestown's largest luxury car dealership, the kind of place where cars weren't just sold — they were displayed like art pieces under cathedral lighting. Inside, the air carried that faint, intoxicating mix of leather, polish, and money.
The moment Veronica and Mira stepped inside, the room shifted.Heads turned. Conversations dipped. Even the hum of the AC seemed to pause.
Including the attention of one man who absolutely shouldn't have looked twice.
He was in his late fifties, silver hair slicked back with money-scented arrogance, one arm loosely wrapped around a girl young enough to still ask permission to stay out late. The sugar-baby looked bored, but the man looked hungry.
And when he noticed Steven's group, his gaze snapped to the girls.
Veronica's elegance.Mira's soft charm.
His smile curved into something greasy.
Before anyone could react, he strutted over — a confidence grown from decades of no one punching him for being annoying.
"Well, well," he drawled, eyeing them up and down like merchandise. "Two lovely angels wandering around without proper guidance. Come with me — I can show you what real cars look like."
He reached forward, fingers stretching toward Mira's arm—
SLAP.
It was Leon's palm slamming around the man's wrist, grip iron-tight.
"Hands off, old man," Leon growled.
Mira instinctively stepped behind him, cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and discomfort.
"Relax, kid. No need to get worked up. I'm just being friendly." His gaze drifted right back to Veronica and Mira. "You're wasting your time with these boys. Come with someone who can actually afford fine things."
He shot a smug look at Steven and Leon.
"I'm Jonathan Mathew. Technical Director at Kenet Corporation. I own a Lamborghini, two BMWs, and I'm here to pick up a Mercedes G-Wagon. What can these two offer you? A ride in some second-hand Toyota?"
Leon took a half-step forward — and in that moment, he looked exactly like the son of Veron Black: a young king raised among wolves.
Steven placed a steadying hand on Leon's shoulder before addressing the old man himself — voice calm, almost gentle, but threaded with something cold.
"Oh? You look down on us?"
Jonathan gave a barking laugh. "Of course I do. Look at you — dressed like you bought your outfits off a clearance rack."
Steven's smile didn't change, but something in the air shifted — a subtle pressure.
"So you're buying a G-Wagon?" he asked mildly. "That's what counts as luxury for you?"
Jonathan puffed up, proud. "That's right. A real man's car."
That did it.
Leon exploded.
"A G-Wagon? Just that? And you dare look down on us?"
The old man blinked, offended. "What's wrong with a G-Wagon, huh? A G-Wagon's worth more than anything you two will ever touch."
Steven and Leon exchanged a look — the shared kind, equal parts amusement and pity.
Leon turned to the salesperson and said, "I heard there were some Barbus here for sale. Do you have any for G-wagon?"
Ignoring him, Leon snapped his attention to a salesperson and barked,"I heard you've got Brabus models in stock. Any available for the G-wagon?"
The salesperson straightened immediately.
"Yes, sir. We recently received a shipment — including a Brabus 900 Rocket Edition. Would you like to see it?" The salesperson spoke politely, a stark contrast to the arrogant old man.
Although Steven and Leon were dressed casually, their commanding presence exuded power and authority. The two women accompanying them were strikingly beautiful, carrying themselves with elegance, a clear indication of their affluent and influential backgrounds. When Leon mentioned knowing about the Brabus shipment, it became evident that they were no ordinary customers. After all, no average person would inquire about a Brabus.
At the words Brabus 900 Rocket Edition, Leon's jaw dropped.
"No way — really?!"
Jonathan, still clueless, scoffed loudly.
"Barbus? What brand is that? Cheap knock-off? Never heard of it."
The salesperson's eye twitched.
"Sir, please remain quiet. I'll get another salesperson to assist you," the salesperson replied, his patience wearing thin. He gestured to a colleague nearby.
But Jonathan wasn't finished embarrassing himself. "Wait," the old man interrupted, "I'll go, but only if those two girls come with me."
"Fine, I'll go — but those two girls come with me."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Steven, having reached the end of his patience, turned to the salesperson, tone perfectly polite. "Could you remove this man from the premises? He's lowering the average intelligence of the room."
"Of course, sir." Security arrived instantly.
Jonathan sputtered, cursed, threatened to sue, threatened to "call the CEO himself," but none of it mattered — he and his sugar baby were dragged out and tossed onto the pavement.
As the doors swung shut, Veronica whispered,"Is it bad that I enjoyed that?"
Mira muttered, "He deserved worse."
Steven smiled faintly.Leon cracked his knuckles.The tension evaporated.
The salesperson led them past velvet ropes into a secluded chamber where the true treasures were kept — limited editions, collector pieces, machines built for the wealthy and the fearless.
Leon froze first.
Under a spotlight sat the monster itself —Brabus 900 Rocket Edition — G63.
A black predator with sculpted angles and a stance like a heavyweight boxer.
"How much?" Leon breathed.
"Seven hundred thousand dollars, sir."
"I'll take it."
Mira nearly choked.Veronica blinked.Steven smirked.
Leon dialed his father immediately.
"Dad, quick question — do you love me?"
The phone call was a blend of begging and negotiation. It might look pathetic seeing a boy of Leon's age acting like that. Five minutes later, payment complete, Leon swaggered back.
The phone call was a blend of begging and negotiation. It might look pathetic seeing a boy of Leon's age acting like that. "What?" he grumbled. "Never seen a boy convince his father to buy him a toy?"
Steven shook his head, amused.
Then his gaze slid across the room — to a silver arrow of engineering brilliance.
McLaren Speedtail. A masterpiece. A statement. A weapon.
"How much for that?" Steven asked.
"2.3 million, sir."
"I'll take it."
Leon nearly dropped his new key.
"BRO — 2.3 MILLION — JUST LIKE THAT?!"
Even Veronica snapped her neck around.
Mira whispered, "I forget sometimes that Steven is… Steven."
Steven shrugged. "I've been looking for this model. Perfect for the race circuit."
Then his eyes drifted again.
"Also the Bentley Mulliner W12. Add that."
"That model is five hundred thousand dollars," the salesperson replied cautiously.
"No problem, deliver both cars to Crimson Hills Villa Estate 1." Steven said. He turned to Veronica and Mira, "Are you buying anything?"
"No," Both girls said together.
Steven nodded to the girls as the salesperson finalised the sale.
Outside, Leon revved the Brabus' engine — a deep, rolling thunder that turned every head.
"Now THIS is a car for AIISA," he bragged, sunglasses sliding down his nose.
"Don't crash it on day one," Mira teased.
"No promises," Leon said proudly.
They convoyed to a nearby restaurant, drawing an audience everywhere they went. People whispered. Others pointed excitedly. The sight of a Brabus and Steven's entourage was enough to stir rumors across Charlestown.
Inside, as lobster salad and chilled juices arrived, the table buzzed with laughter, teasing, and triumph.
It had been a long day.
A very expensive day.