Chapter 161: Watching The World’s Reactions (Bonus - )

Liam led the way toward the villa, his pace casual, hands sliding into his pockets as the tropical breeze washed over them.The evening sun dipped low, painting the Caribbean horizon in deep hues of orange and violet.

Behind him, Daniel, Mason, and Nick followed in silence, their shoes crunching against the stone path.

The villa rose before them like something out of a billionaire’s fantasy — glass walls catching the sunset, wide terraces overlooking the crescent shoreline, and palm trees swaying like sentries in the salt air.

Liam pushed the door open and ushered them inside. The interior was immaculate, designed with understated luxury: marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, wide leather lounges angled toward the panoramic ocean view, and subtle lighting that gave the villa a warm, golden glow.

For several minutes, he walked them through the property. Bedrooms with ocean-facing balconies, a private library stacked with rare books, a gym stocked with equipment, even a wine cellar with rows of vintages worth millions.

Daniel asked all the right questions — about security systems, logistics of supplies, and how the staff rotation would work once the infrastructure was in place. Liam answered, as he smiled and told him to task care of it.

When the tour ended, Liam waved them off with a faint smile. "Go explore. See the island for yourselves. I’ll be here."

They nodded, understanding that Liam wants to be alone and they drifted off, leaving him alone in the quiet expanse of the villa.

Liam sank onto the wide sofa in the main lounge, stretching his legs across the glass coffee table. He turned his attention to the multiple social media posts being displayed in his retina.

He had actually been keeping up with what was going on online but the most interesting thing was the interagency briefing that ended a few minutes ago

Listening in on the meeting, he heard the voices of Washington’s most powerful men and women talking, their tones sharp with disbelief and urgency.

They had laid bare what they knew of him, or thought they knew — the cash purchases, the trusts, the Family Office, the impossible scale of his acquisitions.

But what intrigued him most wasn’t their fear. It was the way the system had woven itself into reality.

He had always assumed the system rewrites the rewards into the world outright, like flipping a page in a story. Yet the Treasury’s discovery about the inheritance record unsettled him. A legal document dating back decades, specifying him as beneficiary? Impossible.

So how could there be an inheritance stretching across time itself, waiting for him?

His brow furrowed, fingers tapping idly against his knee. Was the system rewriting the past? Or bending records so seamlessly that even government agencies couldn’t distinguish the false from the true?

Because it was simply impossible. How will the person that wrote the Will have any idea that a Liam Scott will be born?

It wasn’t like there was a rule in his family that at least one male child must have the name, Liam, Liam. Also, he had already had Lucy go through his family record and he’s actually the only Liam in a very long line of Scotts. And his family was never rich in that long line. Not even close.

Heck, if they was an inkling of riches in his family, he doubt his parents would had abandoned him.

But the briefing actually opened Liam’s eyes to something he was already aware of; how powerful the system was.

The thought was dizzying.

Liam shook it off, unwilling to spiral down that rabbit hole today. Whether it was rewriting reality or fabricating a flawless illusion, the end result was the same: the system made him untouchable.

Liam smiled, as he turned his attention back to the social media feeds, and hashtags blazed across every platform.

Clips of the Maybach had gone viral first, but now the black A380 dominated the conversation. Grainy phone footage, long-lens spotter videos, news anchors gasping on live television — the storm was everywhere.

Unfortunately for Homeland Security, bits and pieces of his identity had already started appearing on the internet before they could classify his information.

Liam chuckled softly, as he wasn’t worried.

Lucy’s voice chimed in again. "Do you want me to lock down your information? I can bury your records so deep not even Washington would find them."

"No." Liam’s voice was calm, decisive. "Leave it open."

"That will accelerate exposure," she warned.

"Exactly," he replied. His gaze sharpened as he scrolled through a thread speculating about the A380’s cost. "If I hide, they’ll tear themselves apart trying to dig deeper. If I stay visible, it becomes leverage for me. Besides, I’ve done nothing illegal."

Lucy was silent for a moment, then her voice softened. "As you wish, Master."

Liam’s reasoning for not hiding himself was simple; the US agencies are already having more than enough trouble trying to solve a legal, yet impossible situation, which was him.

If they investigate him and finds out that there’s no information about him, or it was classified, questions will be raised.

Who classified it?

Liam was sure that Lucy had a way to solve that, as she told him that she had dirty information on almost everyone in government. From the first person to even an janitor. She has everything. It was scary.

But even after hearing all that, Liam still didn’t want to be hidden. He wants to face the world. Why should he hide his wealth?

Again, it’s not like he committed a crime. And he intends to use it as leverage over the US and the world in the future, if they try to stifle Lucid, which he was fully aware that they will.

A small smile touched Liam’s lips. He leaned back, enjoying the absurdity of the whole situation. He knew that he hadn’t just made noise; he had lit the fuse to a global storm.

Minutes passed. Outside, the waves crashed softly against the shore. The villa was quiet, save for the faint chirp of tropical birds.

When Daniel, Mason, and Nick returned, Liam was still reclining on the sofa, scrolling through the chaos of posts with an almost childlike amusement.

"See enough?" he asked without looking up.

Daniel exhaled. "More than enough."

"Good. Get ready," Liam said, rising from his seat. "We fly back to LAX tonight."

***

Meanwhile, the international scene erupted.

London – MI6 / GCHQ Joint Briefing

At Vauxhall Cross, the deputy chief of MI6 sat in a dim briefing room, the glow of a projector casting shadows across the wall. The GCHQ liaison finished his presentation, the last slide showing a grainy image of the black A380 lifting off from LAX.

"Registry N914LX," the liaison said. "Verified by the FAA. Private configuration. Not leased. Not chartered. Owned outright."

The deputy chief’s hand tightened around his pen. For a moment, the room was so quiet that the only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of the projector.

"Private?" he repeated. His tone was quiet, but disbelief laced every syllable. "That scale of wealth and engineering isn’t private. Even the Saudis failed to pull it off. Whoever owns it isn’t a mere individual. Run a full trace on the registry. If the Americans don’t share..." His eyes narrowed. "...we’ll find out ourselves."

***

Beijing – Ministry of State Security

In a heavily guarded compound, a senior MSS director leaned forward, his palms pressing against the polished wood of the operations table.

"An A380?" he asked, his voice sharp in Mandarin. "Privately owned? Out of Los Angeles?"

"Yes, Director," his aide confirmed. "American registry. Tail number filed just last week. Ownership listed as Liam Scott."

The director’s eyes darkened, as he tapped the table once.

"If this is true," he said slowly, "it shifts balance. Private citizens should not field aircraft larger than our state carriers. This is not indulgence; this is power projection. Find out everything. Who is this boy? Who funds him? Report directly to the State Council."

***

Moscow – FSB Headquarters

Deep within the Kremlin’s secure wing, cigarette smoke curled into the air above a table stacked with documents. Officers leaned over printouts, faces grim.

"Eighteen years old," one muttered, disbelief thick in his tone. "An A380 registered in his name."

The general in charge tapped ash into a tray, his face expressionless. He exhaled slowly and said, "If the Americans allow this, it is no accident. Either they cover for him... or he is theirs."

He stubbed the cigarette out with deliberate pressure. "Run surveillance. Every satellite, every wire, every asset in America. I want his name, his habits, his blood type in my hand before morning."

***

Riyadh – General Intelligence Presidency

In a gilded chamber, the intelligence chief stood before a Saudi prince, his head bowed slightly.

"The rumors are confirmed, Highness. A private A380 has flown from Los Angeles. Owned, not leased."

The prince’s brows drew together, as he spoke with a voice filled with amusement and curiosity. "Even our families never secured such a craft. Who is this... Liam Scott?"

The chief lowered his gaze. "We will know soon, Highness. But whoever he is, he has sent a message to the entire world."

The prince said nothing. His eyes drifted toward the horizon beyond the window, his silence heavier than words.