The black Toyota slowly sleeked by an isolated area snapping dry twigs as it navigated its way to its destination. After five minutes of turning corner after corner , it found itself Infront of a surprisingly huge well built modern mansion. The monolithic structure looked like it had been carved out of pure ambition.
Standing firm in stark contrast to the issolation surrounding it , a marvel of glass , steel and stone that rose like a temple of modern excess from the wilderness. Its sheer size made the car feel like a toy in comparison.
Jet-black marble steps led to an oversized entrance framed by towering columns of obsidian and titanium, where a set of matte finished double doors twelve feet tall, with gold inlay veins running through them stood closed like the gates of some silent god.
The façade was sleek and angular, all sharp lines and geometric arrogance. Floor to ceiling glass windows stretched the full height of the structure, revealing slivers of a lavish interior floating staircases, abstract sculptures, and chandeliers that looked like they belonged in an art museum rather than someone's home. A hanging garden of imported orchids and vines poured from a skybridge connecting the east and west wings of the mansion like nature itself had been hired to decorate.
Hidden speakers embedded in the landscaping hummed with ambient music too subtle to place, and there was the faint scent of sandalwood in the air artificial, controlled, and somehow unsettling.
Above the main balcony, a backlit crest was etched into the upper wall. A letter JL, wrapped in thorns, glowed faintly in deep crimson. The mark of the Colman family
It wasn't just a house. It was a statement. One that screamed power, control, and untouchable wealth.
"Daaaaaamn serg you sure do know your way with things...Hehehe I get the master bedroom!!!" Grabbing leo by his ears.
"In your dreams !"
"Serg isnt your family insignia supposed to read JC why is it the other way around?"
"Well leo since i joined the millitary you tookme in as your brother and have always been with me be it in the battle grounds or bar fights... weve never been apart . You mentioned that youve got no familly but now you do.From now on its just you and me brother"
For a moment, Leo didn't respond.
He just stood there silent, motionless as the words hung in the air between them like a lifeline thrown into a sea he'd been drowning in for years.
"You mentioned that you've got no family... but now you do."
It hit him harder than any punch he'd ever taken. Harder than the beatings, the bullets, the betrayals. Jayden wasn't just throwing out some tough guy loyalty speech. This was different. This was real.
Leo's throat tightened, his jaw locking as his mind stumbled backward through years of silence.
Forgotten birthdays. Cold foster homes. Watching other kids get picked up by people who cared while he was left behind a ghost in the system.
His childhood was a blur of empty hallways and fake smiles, of building walls no one could climb. Trust was a currency he'd never learned to spend.
But now… this man this brother in arms, this blood soaked, battle hardened lunatic who'd fought beside him through hell and worse was saying belonged. No conditions. No payback. Just "You and me, brother."
He turned away slightly, pretending to stretch his shoulder to mask the sting behind his eyes.
His heart, usually so steady under pressure, felt like it was caught in a vice. He could still hear the gunfire in his head, still see the burning Mercedes, still feel the weight of bodies dropping around him. But none of that compared to this
to being seen for once… not just as a weapon, but as a man who mattered.
His voice came out low, gravelly, barely more than a whisper.
"…Damn you, Serg. You always say the right shit at the wrong time."
Jayden gave him a half smile, the kind that said "yeah, I know." But Leo didn't laugh. He just nodded slowly, eyes still locked on the road ahead, because if he looked Jayden in the face right now, he might actually lose it.
Family.
That word had always felt like a lie. But coming from Jayden? It felt like the truth one Leo didn't know he needed until he heard it.
And now that he had it, he'd burn down the world to protect it.
So serg ... whats our first objective whats our first move..
"Hehe .... leo have u ever been to an auction?"
"An auction? Why should we?"
"Hehe thats because were going to buy a plaza leo Thats our first step to leaving a land mark in this world"
The tailored suit hugged Jayden's frame like it had been sewn by the hands of a god. Midnight black, single breasted, with a subtle charcoal pinstripe that shimmered like oil under the sun.
His cufflinks were matte titanium quiet power.
His shoes clicked with an audible confidence as he stepped into the black Toyota, now gleaming like a blade against the late afternoon glow.
The Wellace Auction House was tucked into the upper slopes of Orange County's elite district where wealth wasn't spoken about; it was shown, worn, driven.
As Jayden cruised through the gates, dry gravel crunched beneath the tires like bones underfoot, a fitting soundtrack to the statement he was about to make.
The parking lot was a shimmering jungle of high end machines Ferraris, Bugattis, the kind of vehicles that whispered six figure seductions. As Jayden eased his Toyota into a free spot near the main entrance, a thunderous voice exploded from his left.
"HEY! That's my goddamn spot, peasant!"
The voice belonged to a fat man draped in an offensively bright red Gucci blazer, his fingers overloaded with gold rings that barely clung to his sausage-like digits.
On either arm, two girls barely twenty five , surgically perfected giggled like background noise in a cheap music video. Behind him, a brand new BMW M8 Competition gleamed like it had just crawled off the showroom floor.
Jayden didn't even flinch.
The fat man stomped over, his face flushed and greasy, sunglasses too small for his swollen head. "Did you not see the sign? Reserved. That's for people who actually belong here."
Jayden leaned against his door, adjusting the cuff of his shirt without looking up. "Then maybe you should've gotten here earlier."
"You think you're clever? Fine. GUARDS!"
Two burly security guards clearly hired muscle, not professionals rushed over. They looked at the Toyota, then at Jayden. Then they hesitated.
"Remove this trash from my spot before I have my lawyer bankrupt your entire bloodline!"
The guards approached, cracking their knuckles, confidence oozing from years of intimidating the weak.
Jayden rolled his neck once. Then moved.
In three seconds, the first guard's wrist was twisted into a dislocated mess and the second one was face-first on the asphalt, groaning through a busted lip.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Jayden stood over them, calm, collected, death incarnate in a suit. He adjusted his lapel, then turned to the fat man.
"You should've told them to bring backup."
The girls recoiled. The fat man took a step back, suddenly aware of how alone he really was.
Then Jayden sighed and stepped back toward the Toyota. "But I didn't come here to waste my time."
He slid into the car, reversed smoothly out of the spot, and parked further down without another word. No need to flex further he'd already won.
The Wellace Auction House glowed with warm light and colder intentions. Marble floors. Golden chandeliers that sparkled like a thousand silent judgments. Everyone inside dripped money tailored Versace, vintage Cartier, rare Rolexes with diamonds that hadn't seen sunlight in decades. And yet...
All eyes turned when Jayden walked in.
He didn't try to blend in. Didn't peacock either. He just moved like a man who had nothing to prove and in a room full of egos, that made him magnetic. Women watched him like he was the final offer on something they never knew they needed. He passed by a few and caught whispered words: "Who is that?" "He's not from around here…" "God, those eyes."
He made no effort to flirt. He was focused. Silent. Dangerous.
The auction began with a polished man in a silk suit lifting a crystal gavel.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we begin with the prized jewel of today's event… the iconic PIXEL Plaza. Prime real estate, top commercial visibility, a goldmine waiting to explode. Opening bid… 200 million dollars."
The room tensed. Bidding started.
"Two-ten."
"Two-fifty."
"Three-hundred."
"Three-forty."
Each call bounced like gunfire. A war of wallets.
"Four-hundred."
"Four-thirty."
And then… silence.
All eyes turned to see who would make the next move.
Jayden stood slowly. One hand in his pocket, the other raising his bidder card with calm finality.
"Five hundred and fifty million."
A gasp rolled through the room like thunder. The silence that followed was heavier than the numbers themselves.
The auctioneer swallowed. "Five-fifty going once… twice… sold. To the gentleman in black."
No applause. Just stunned, reverent silence.
Jayden didn't smirk. Didn't gloat. He just nodded once and walked out like it was a formality.
Back outside, the fat man had returned probably to try another swing of ego.
Instead, he found his BMW.
Or what was left of it.
The windows were shattered. The roof was caved in, the metal curled like paper. The hood was crumpled inward as though it had been punched—repeatedly. The signature fist impressions, deep and symmetrical, told a terrifying story.
Not vandalism. Not a sledgehammer.
Fists.
The fat man stared, breath gone, mouth twitching. A valet tried to speak but stopped when he saw the look of pure fear on his client's face.
There was no note. No message.
Just destruction.
Jayden never looked back.