Rothschild Private Vault, Geneva, Switzerland.
That was the only thing the key gave him. No number, no code, no accompanying note — just the na and location, stamped into his mind.
But it was enough.
More than enough actually.
The na alone carried weight. Liam might not know the full history of the Rothschild Private Vault, but he didn’t need a dossier to understand its significance.
If a place carried that na, then whatever was kept inside wasn’t ordinary — and whoever used it didn’t deal in the ordinary.
It also made him even more curious about what the content would be.
A slow breath escaped him as he adjusted slightly and leaned back against the headboard, twirling the key turning lightly between his fingers.
Liam sighed and closed his eyes briefly. He had gotten what he wanted from the key but the real prize, though, was still locked away across an ocean.
Which ant only one thing.
He has to make a trip.
A private vault in Switzerland wasn’t the kind of place you accessed with a phone call. You have to show up in person, and even then, only after navigating layers of protocol most people would never dream of, would he be allowed to access the safe deposit box.
The idea of standing in that vault, holding whatever the system had stashed away for him, stirred a sharp spark of anticipation in his chest.
He could almost see himself standing in a cold, polished marble floors, quiet halls, a clerk whose eyes flickered with curiosity despite their best efforts to hide it. A private room. The sound of a heavy chanism unlocking. And then... the reveal.
He couldn’t help but smile at his imagination. Though he was calm on the surface, he was very excited inside. Not just about the possible content of the box but also the trip. It would be his first trip ever.
I will make the trip next week.
He’d make the trip after his second weekly sign-in. That way, he’d be prepared for whatever surprises ca his way.
Because if the first weekly sign-in had taught him anything, it was that the system didn’t deal in diocrity. That first reward had set a standard so high it felt like every future one would have to outdo itself. And the thought of seeing what the system had in store this ti... it made his blood run warr.
He could almost hear the sound of the notification already.
Liam slid the key back into his inventory, the weight disappearing from his palm in an instant.
Carefully, he reattached the miniature Saint Petersburg cityscape to its mount inside Winter’s Heart, each connection slotting back into place with a soft, precise click. The petals of platinum closed smoothly around it, the frost-patterned shell gleaming under the bedroom lights.
He set the egg back into his inventory, rose from the bed, and left the room.
His footsteps carried him down the grand staircase toward the dining room, where Evelyn and the two maids were already in place.
"Dinner is ready, sir," Evelyn said, her tone warm but precise.
Liam took his seat at the head of the long dining table. The evening’s spread was simple but elegant as always — roasted duck breast with a red wine reduction, truffle-infused mashed potatoes, and crisp haricots verts. A basket of warm bread sat off to the side, the faintest wisp of steam curling from beneath the linen.
Liam took his ti to enjoy the al. When he was done, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin and glanced toward Evelyn.
"That was excellent. Thank you."
She inclined her head slightly. "I’ll let the kitchen know."
With that, Liam rose, leaving the table and went back to his room.
He wasn’t sleepy but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to do anything in particular. He didn’t feel like watching a movie or anything.
Dropping onto the bed, he let out a long sigh, as the mattress absorbed him, enveloping whom with comfort. He picked up his phone, the glow of the screen casting a pale light across his face.
It was past nine.
By now, Stacy and the others would have reached their respective hos. And if he knew anything about the kind of families they ca from, the mont they walked in the door, they’d have been t with questions.
And he was right.
***
At Stacy’s parents house.
She had to co ho today because her dad told her to. She had barely stepped through the door when her mother’s voice ca from the living room.
"So? How was it?"
Before she could even drop her bag, her father’s head appeared from around the corner, brows lifted. "And don’t you dare say ’fine.’"
Her younger brother was already scrolling through her Instagram story on his phone, snorting. "You didn’t tell us it was a super yacht."
Within seconds, the living room beca a crossfire of questions. How big was it? How many crew mbers? Where did they sail? Was the helipad really part of it?
And then the inevitable: how much?
When she told them — three hundred million — the room went still. Her father blinked. Her mother’s mouth opened slightly, then closed.
"You’re sure you heard right?" her mother asked.
"Yes, Mom."
Her parents exchanged a look. It was that silent, wordless communication that only parents had mastered.
Her father leaned back slowly. "Three hundred million... on a yacht."
***
It wasn’t just Stacy. Across the city, Kristopher, Harper, Lana, Elise, Matt, and Kristie were each having the sa experience — walking into hos full of curiosity and leaving their parents in stunned silence.
At first, the older generation assud exaggeration. Kids overstate things all the ti. But then ca the photos.
Full-length shots of The Mia from the dock, her gleaming hull reflecting the sun. The sundeck with its infinity pool. The helipad, the private cinema, the master suite.
There was no denying it anymore.
The yacht further reinforced the narrative forming around Liam Scott — that he ca from money so deep and old that even their own influential circles couldn’t quite place it.
And that was the unsettling part.
If it had been tied to a known family na, they could file it away neatly in their ntal map of power and influence. But the na Scott rang no bells. It wasn’t European aristocracy, it wasn’t Middle Eastern royalty, it wasn’t one of the entrenched Arican dynasties.
Which left a mystery.
An Arican boy, barely eighteen, with the kind of resources that made seasoned financiers pause. The Bellere Mansion. And now, a $20 million helicopter and a $300 million superyacht.
If there was an explanation that made him ordinary, they couldn’t see it.
And mysteries... begged to be solved.
***
Back in Bellere Mansion, Liam lay on his bed, unaware of the quiet ripples spreading through his guests’ families — or perhaps simply unconcerned.
For him, the day was over and before long, the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the room, as he fell asleep.
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