The object on the polished desk was the key to a Hennessey Venom GT. Only ten had ever been produced worldwide. Of those, a mere three had made it to the United States. With a top speed of 435 km/h, it left supercars from Lamborghini, Bugatti, and Koenigsegg in its dust. It held the title of the world's fastest production car—a machine that even the conventionally wealthy couldn't hope to acquire. Mr. Sterling fought to compose himself, but his hands trembled uncontrollably. He stared at the key, a raw pang of envy twisting in his gut. A car like this was the ultimate dream for countless men. "Oh," was all Jacob said, reaching out to take it. From his earliest memories, he had been surrounded by luxury cars. At five, he'd had an accident on the plush leather seats of an Aston Martin. At ten, he had secretly taken his father's Pagani Zonda for a spin to impress a girl from school, an escapade that earned him three days' punishment in the wolf den. "Mr. Thompson, Ms. Rose said they parked the car at the Westbrook State Sports Car Club. You can contact a Mr. Liam for the details." "This girl," Jacob sighed, shaking his head. "I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile. How is driving a Venom to campus not standing out?" He shoved the key into his pocket with a flicker of annoyance. He had grown accustomed to the ordinary life he'd led for the past four years. Sterling could only manage a strained smile. To drive such a rarity to campus… even the richest man in Westbrook State couldn't dream of owning that car, yet Jacob seemed to resent it. Still, Sterling understood. The Thompson family’s presence in the United States was a thing of myth and shadow. He had heard whispers that the family possessed an impossibly vast fortune both at home and abroad, and wielded a power far more formidable than mere wealth. For someone like Jacob, even the world's most exclusive hypercar was little more than a child's scooter. Sterling couldn't let his mind wander any further. He knew Jacob was a man from a world beyond his comprehension. The less he knew about that family, the better. "Rest assured, Mr. Thompson, I have signed a confidentiality agreement. We shall proceed with the investment plan for your assets, as directed by Ms. Rose. I will be handling your portfolio personally." Jacob gave a simple nod. It all felt like too much. From a young age, his father had instilled in him the value of a simple life. As a result, Jacob placed little importance on the trappings of wealth. If he truly wanted it, he had the resources and ability to bring the entire city to its knees. But the heir to the Thompson family was not some brainless profligate who did nothing but burn through cash. After their discussion concluded, Sterling personally escorted Jacob to the front lobby. Jeremy hadn't left. He was lingering, consumed by curiosity over the person who could command such respect from Sterling that he himself was utterly ignored. He rubbed his eyes, certain they were deceiving him. He couldn't believe Mr. Sterling was bowing so deferentially to the very same young man in a courier's uniform that Shelly had just been scolding. "Him…? Am I seeing things?" Jeremy’s gaze was fixed on Jacob. Every one of Jacob's movements was fluid and efficient, projecting an air of practiced competence. Jacob walked away, eager to put distance between himself and the bowing bank manager. In that instant, Jeremy's entire perception of the world was turned upside down. Half an hour later, Jacob pulled up to the Sports Car Club. It was Westbrook State's preeminent—and only—sports car club, serving as the central hub for the sale and trade of high-end automobiles. This was where the state's most exclusive imported vehicles found new owners. Jacob parked his worn motorbike out front and walked inside. The receptionist at the front desk was absorbed in her reflection, meticulously applying a fresh coat of lipstick. Her brow furrowed when she saw him enter. A delivery man? According to club rules, members were forbidden from ordering outside food. "Hello, who's the delivery for?" she asked, her tone laced with confusion. "I'm not delivering anything. I'm here to see Liam. Could you please get him for me?" Liam was the head of the club and the son of Westbrook State's wealthiest property tycoon. What an arrogant delivery boy, she thought, to ask for him so casually. The receptionist’s eyes swept over Jacob. He was handsome, but she was certain he wasn't the scion of some major corporation. "Are you here to buy a car?" "No, I'm here to pick up a car." The receptionist frowned. Buying a car, picking up a car—wasn't it the same thing? And since when could a delivery boy afford a luxury sports car? The cheapest model in their showroom started at a million dollars. If he could afford that, why would he still be working as a courier? A cascade of questions flooded her mind. "Mr. Liam isn't here at the moment, but he should be back soon. Please have a seat." She had no idea when Liam would actually return. The delivery boy wasn't worth any serious attention. The receptionist picked up her small mirror and returned to perfecting her makeup. Working at the Sports Car Club demanded a flawless appearance. If she could just catch the eye of the right member, her entire life could change overnight. Another woman in a matching uniform, also a staff member, approached the desk. They began to gossip in low voices. "Did you hear? A brand-new Hennessey Venom GT arrived a few days ago. Can you believe it?" "It has to belong to one of the rich kids. God, if my boyfriend could own a car like that, it would be amazing!" "There are only three of them in the entire United States!" the second receptionist added breathlessly. "It has to be Mr. Liam's! I wish I had a boyfriend like him!" Jacob ignored their chatter, calmly settling into a chair and pulling a phone with a cracked screen from his pocket. His downtrodden appearance earned a pitying glance from the first receptionist. "I didn't expect a delivery guy to be so good-looking. He’s different from the usual ones." She pouted. "What's the point of being handsome if you're broke? Look at his phone screen. He hasn't even bothered to replace it. It's just sad." "He could still use his looks. He could probably make a living on TikTok." "Oh, please. Get your head out of the clouds." At that moment, Jacob's brow furrowed, his expression turning serious as he stared at an email on his phone. He was scanning the financial reports from the hotpot Restaurant chain, the nightclub, and the hotel that were now under his name. As per procedure, the financial team from each location now reported directly to him. "A quarterly profit of one hundred twenty million US dollars," he mused internally. "These businesses are doing quite well in Westbrook State. I wanted to make my own way, build something from scratch, but Father is forcing all this on me." His mind began to churn, calculating the capital required to launch his own venture. As the family heir, he refused to be defined as someone who was simply handed everything on a silver platter. After twenty minutes, the sharp honk of a car horn echoed from outside. A young man in a sharp, tailored suit stepped out of the driver's seat.

Chapter 4: An Unwanted Dream Car