CHAPTER 63: GENEVA

Liam was awoken by the soft chime of the intercom system and the calm voice of the pilot drifting through the cabin.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be commencing our descent into Geneva shortly. Please ensure your seat belts are fastened."

His eyelids fluttered open. For a moment, he felt the faint disorientation that came after an incomplete sleep, the kind where your mind wakes up before your body fully does. The low hum of the jet’s engines vibrated faintly beneath his seat, a reminder that he was thousands of feet above the ground.

Liam blinked and turned his head toward the oval window.

The sight made him pause.

Geneva lay beneath him, bathed in the soft golden light of dawn. The sun was already up, but it hung low, a burnished disc casting its glow over the horizon.

What caught his attention was the lake that spread out like a mirror, vast and calm, reflecting streaks of orange, pink, and pale blue. From this height, it looked like molten glass had been poured into the valley between the mountains.

Around it, red-tiled rooftops gleamed under the dawn, their pale stone façades and ornate balconies forming neat clusters around winding streets.

Liam spotted patches of green — parks dotted with early morning joggers — and to the west, the silhouettes of the Alps rose like ancient guardians, their peaks still capped with streaks of snow despite the season.

"Wow..." he muttered softly, his breath fogging the window briefly.

The city was beautiful in a different way than Los Angeles. Where LA was sprawling chaos and energy, Geneva was precision and grace.

Claire, one of the hostess, appeared beside him with a polite smile, checking that his belt was secured.

"We’ll be landing in about fifteen minutes, Mr. Scott. Would you like me to close the blinds for you?"

Liam shook his head lightly, eyes still glued to the view. "No. I’d like to see it."

"Of course," she said with a small bow before moving on.

The Gulfstream began its descent, angling down gently. The world below grew larger and more detailed.

Soon, he could make out the Jet d’Eau — Geneva’s iconic fountain — shooting a column of water high into the morning air.

Even from this distance, the plume looked majestic, a single defiant stream against the expanse of the lake.

As they came lower, he caught sight of the bridges linking the two halves of the city. Tiny cars crawled across them like worker ants.

The streets were coming alive with cafés setting out chairs, trams sliding silently along their tracks, pedestrians moving in unhurried clusters.

The aircraft glided lower still, until the details sharpened: the tiled roofs, the church spires, the clean-cut lines of modern glass buildings standing shoulder to shoulder with centuries-old architecture.

To those familiar with history unlike Liam, the view was like seeing two worlds — old Europe and new finance — coexisting in harmony.

Then came the rumble of the wheels extending beneath them, and the low voice of the captain once again.

"Cabin crew, please take your seats for landing."

Liam inhaled deeply and leaned back into his chair. The runway appeared in the distance, a grey strip bordered by lush green fields that stretched out to the foothills beyond. The descent quickened, the ground rushed upward, and then —

Thud.

The wheels made contact with the tarmac, sending a gentle vibration through the cabin. The engines roared as the jet slowed, the world outside blurring until finally it steadied into a smooth taxi. Liam exhaled slowly.

"Welcome to Geneva," the co-pilot’s voice announced cheerfully. "Local time is 7:45 AM, and the weather is clear with a temperature of fourteen degrees Celsius. We thank you for flying with us and wish you a pleasant stay."

The plane rolled gracefully to a halt near a private terminal, where a sleek black car was already waiting.

Liam unbuckled, rose from his seat, and stretched subtly. Mason and Nick followed behind as he descended the steps, the cool morning air brushing his face.

Waiting for him was a black Maybach S-Class, its glossy finish reflecting the rising sun. The driver — a tall Swiss man in a perfectly cut suit — bowed slightly as Mason opened the rear door.

"Bienvenue à Genève, Monsieur Scott," the driver greeted in accented English.

"Thank you," Liam said as he slid into the car’s interior, Mason settling beside him while Nick occupied the front seat.

Though he didn’t understand a word the man say, he knew that it was a greeting.

The Maybach purred to life, pulling away from the tarmac and merging onto the pristine roads leading into the city.

As they drove through the streets of Geneva, the city revealed itself slowly, like a painting being unrolled.

First came the outskirts — clean highways bordered by manicured greenery, traffic light but orderly. Bicyclists zipped along designated lanes, their movements smooth and efficient.

Liam noticed how quiet everything seemed, even with cars passing by. The usual chaos of honking horns and engines revving, so common in Los Angeles, was absent here.

Soon, the Maybach crossed into the heart of the city. Liam’s gaze flicked between the sights outside his window.

Historic buildings lined the boulevards, their façades adorned with intricate stonework, wrought-iron balconies, and colorful shutters. Many bore flags — Swiss crosses fluttering in the breeze, alongside the insignias of international organizations.

The closer they came to the lake, the more vibrant it became. Cafés spilled onto sidewalks, their tables already occupied by early risers sipping espresso. Pastry shops displayed croissants and tarts behind glass counters, and Liam could almost smell their aroma.

Then the Maybach curved along the edge of Lake Geneva itself, and Liam’s breath caught again.

The lake was enormous up close, a vast expanse of shimmering blue stretching toward the horizon.

Swans drifted gracefully across its surface, while small sailboats dotted the waters, their white sails like brushstrokes against the canvas of the morning.

And there — towering into the sky — was the Jet d’Eau he had seen from the air.

Up close, it was even more impressive, a plume of water roaring upward, glinting like liquid silver in the sunlight.

"This city..." Liam muttered softly, his voice almost lost to the hum of the car.

It felt alive but not overwhelming. It was refined and balanced.

The Maybach drove past the United Nations headquarters, its row of flags standing tall and fluttering in the breeze.

Liam’s eyes lingered briefly on the massive building and the flags. Seeing them reminded him that this was not just a city of beauty, but one of politics and power. A global stage where decisions shaping nations were quietly made.

From there, they crossed into a quieter district. The streets narrowed, the shops more boutique in nature.

Watchmakers, jewelers, luxury fashion houses — their displays glittered beneath carefully placed lights.

The Maybach finally slowed as it approached a towering building of glass and steel that reflected the morning sky. It was subtle but unmistakable. This was one of Geneva’s finest hotels.

The driver pulled smoothly to the entrance, where attendants in tailored uniforms rushed forward to open the doors.

"Welcome, Mr. Scott," the hotel manager greeted warmly, bowing slightly as Liam stepped out.

His French-accented English was perfect and his smile, though obviously rehearsed rehearsed, was genuine.

Liam returned the smile politely and followed him into the establishment.

The lobby was a work of art — marble floors gleaming beneath chandeliers, soft music playing from hidden speakers, staff and guests moving around quietly.

Escorted swiftly, Liam entered a private elevator that rose smoothly to the highest floor. The penthouse suite awaited.

The door opened into a vast space that nearly stole his breath again. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the walls, offering an uninterrupted view of Lake Geneva and the mountains beyond. Plush furniture filled the living area, accented with subtle gold trims and modern artwork.

Mason and Nick moved discreetly, checking the rooms and securing the suite, but Liam hardly noticed.

He walked straight toward the master bedroom. The moment he saw the massive king-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens, he felt his body ache with anticipation.

Dropping his jacket onto a nearby chair, he collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the mattress.

"Finally, now I can sign-in for the day" he muttered with a smile.

He had put it off because of the flight but now that he was free, there was nothing holding him back.

"System, sign-in."

[Ding!]