My cliff–side vi overlooked the ck Sea, its modernist architecture Jutting dramatically from the rocky coastline. Floor–to–ceiling windows wrapped around the structure, and the setting sun painted everything in deep orange and gold.

1 rose on tiptoes for the iris scan. The system hummed bas /bit processed my

“Wee home, master,” the Al house system announced, its voice echoing through the empty space.

The lights came on sequentially, and I heard the soft whir of cleaning robots activating throughout the house. The air filtration system kicked in, clearing out the staleness.

“Home sweet home,” I murmured, stepping inside.

The vi was exactly as I’d left it–minimalist furnishings and state–of–the–art technology.

I moved directly to the belevator /bat the center of the bhouse/b, leaning in for another iris scan. ‘Basement level one, Imanded.

The

elevator descended smoothly. When the doors opened, I stepped into my personal vault. The walls were lined with safety deposit boxes of various sizes, each requiring iris authentication.

I went to thergest box and opened it, retrieving my ck card–untraceable, unlimited, and epted anywhere in the world. Next to ity my old medical license with the name “Dr. ckwell” and my photo, I tossed it into my bag.

“Basement blevel /btwo,” I said, returning to the belevator/b.

The second basement level housed my vehicle collection-

-a gleaming array of supercars and limited–edition models that would bmake /bChase bAstor /bweep with joy. Lamborghinis, Bugattis, Koenigseggs, McLarens–each more rare and valuable than thest.

I pulled out my phone band /bsnapped photos of the collection, sending them to Chase with a simple message: “Pick one for your bbirthday/bb./bb” /b

The response was immediate–a video bcall /bI answered to see Chase’s face, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Holy fucking bshit/b, Jade!” he practically screamed. “Where the bell is this?”

I watched as he jumped off his bed and ran to his closet, frantically searching for clothes.

overseas,” I said simply.

Chase froze. “Which country? I’ming!”

“The cars,” I redirected him. “Want one or not?”

“Of course! Are you going to buy me bone /bor…” he trailed off, uncertain.

I raised an eyebrow. “bGive /byou one. This is my garage.”

“YOUR GARAGE?” His voice hit a pitch I didn’t think possible for ba /bmale. “Jade, will you marry me? I’m serious. We bcan /bbdo /bit right now. I’ll

get on a ne

“If you don’t shut up and pick a car, I’ll bhang /bup,” 1 threatened mildly.

Chaseposed himself

ed himself with visible effort. The gunmetal gray Koenigsegg. bNo/bb, /bwait–the matte ck McLaren. No! The-

“You have ten seconds.”

“The blue Bur

Bugatti! bFinal /banswer!”

I bnodded/b. ‘It’ll bbe /bdelivered next week.”

I ended the call and selected a sleek gray Lamborghini for myself. “Have this brought up, I instructed the robotic attendant.

“Yes, master,” it replied, rolling toward

“Basement level three.”

the vehicle.

el three,” Imanded, returning to the elevator once more.

The lowest level was my personal armory–walls lined with weapons bof /bbevery /bvariety, from traditional firearms bto /bcustom–designed explosives of my own creation. In my previous life, I’d spent countless hours here, drinking bvodka /band findingfort in the deadly precision of my barsenal/b.

I picked up a handgun, feeling its familiar weight. Without hesitation, I aimed at a target across the room and fired several shots in rapid. session. The bullets bclustered /bin the center.

As I surveyed the weapons, a thought crossed my mind: Ethan was an arms dealer and weapons designer. He’d probably appreciate this collection. Perhaps I should bring him here someday.

The gray Lamborghini was waiting when I returned to the main floor. The Al house system had prepared a light lunch, exactly to my specifications. I sat at the kitchen counter, enjoying the perfect silence broken only by the gentle hum of the house systems.

By noon, I was ready to hang out.

I slid into the Lamborghini, feeling the engine purr to life beneath me.

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