The McLaren hummed along the feeder roads leading out of the city, the ride so smooth Kota barely felt the transition from cracked suburban asphalt to the wider, freshly paved lanes that marked the edge of the upscale districts. Gerald's voice had announced the route change minutes earlier, and now the scenery shifted with every passing mile. Strip malls gave way to gated communities, then to standalone estates screened by tall privacy hedges and stone walls. The houses started getting bigger. Not just bigger—obscene. Each one sat on what had to be four acres minimum, manicured lawns rolling out like green carpets, fountains visible through wrought-iron gates, security cameras blinking discreetly from every corner. The kind of places people posted about on pre-Vanishing Instagram, back when flexing wealth still required a caption.
Kota watched it all slide past the tinted window, arms still crossed, seat heater dialed to a perfect warmth he refused to admit felt luxurious. Theo drove with one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping nervously against his thigh. Every few seconds he glanced sideways, checking Kota's expression like he was waiting for approval or judgment.
Theo cleared his throat. "We're getting close to the neighborhood now. It's... quieter out here."
Kota snorted. "Quiet? This place looks like money grew legs and built houses."
Theo gave a small, self-conscious laugh. "It's not that bad. I mean, compared to some of the estates further north, we're actually quite modest."
Kota turned his head slowly. "Modest."
"Yes." Theo nodded earnestly. "My father always said we should stay grounded. No need to flaunt. We're comfortable, that's all."
Kota stared at him for a long second. "Comfortable? Theo, you just drove me out of a high-school parking lot in an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar car. Your dad's net worth is what again?"
Theo winced. "Around one hundred and two million. Last valuation was... last year, I think. Give or take."
Kota let out a low, incredulous laugh. "That's not comfortable. That's rich rich. Like, private-jet rich. Island-owning rich."
Theo's cheeks flushed. "It's not like that. Not really. We don't own an island. And the jet is leased. Shared. With partners."
Kota raised an eyebrow. "You hear yourself right now?"
Theo huffed, a small, petulant sound. "You don't understand. Growing up, we weren't well off at all. Not compared to my friends. My first car was a BMW. A three-series. Used. Dad said it built character. Meanwhile, my classmates were getting Aston Martins for their sixteenth birthdays. Full carbon packages, custom paint, the works. I had to wait until I was eighteen for anything nicer, and even then it was just a hand-me-down Porsche from my cousin. It was humiliating."
Kota blinked. "Humiliating."
"Yes." Theo's voice climbed half an octave, genuinely aggrieved. "You have no idea what it's like walking into the school lot and seeing everyone else pull up in something that actually turns heads while you're stuck with a base-model sedan. People talked. They whispered. I was the poor one in my friend group."
Kota stared at him, mouth slightly open. "Theo. I don't have a car."
Theo's head whipped around so fast the McLaren swerved half a lane before he corrected. "What?"
"I said I don't have a car. Never had one. Dad's got the Ford from 2020. That's it. We share it. When I need to go somewhere, I take the bus or walk."
Theo looked like someone had just told him the sky was green. "But... you're eighteen."
"Yeah."
"And you've never... owned a vehicle? Not even a beater?"
Kota shrugged. "Never needed one bad enough to fight Dad about it. He says cars are for work. Not joyrides."
Theo's mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. "That's... that's barbaric."
Kota laughed despite himself. "Barbaric?"
"Yes! You're an adult. You should have mobility. Independence. I can't believe..." Theo trailed off, shaking his head. "You know what? When we get to the house, I'm giving you one of the older ones. The 2030 collection. They're ancient now, practically vintage, but every single one is worth over a hundred thousand even in this market. Take your pick. Keys are in the garage."
Kota's amusement vanished. He sat up straighter. "You're serious."
"Deadly." Theo nodded once, decisive. "I have seven in the east wing garage alone. None of them have more than fifteen thousand miles. Practically new. You can have the Mercedes-AMG GT Black Series if you want something fast, or the Bentley Continental GT if you prefer comfort. Or the Lamborghini Huracán Performante if you want to feel dangerous. Whatever speaks to you."
Kota stared straight ahead, processing. "My dad's truck is twenty-four years old. I've never even sat in anything built after 2030. Mid-twenty-first century? That's... science fiction to me."
Theo's expression softened. "Then it's settled. You'll have something modern. Something worthy of you."
Kota didn't answer right away. The idea of owning a car—any car—felt like stepping into someone else's life. He pictured pulling up to the apartment in something sleek and expensive, Khalil's face when he saw it. The questions. The suspicion. The inevitable lecture about staying grounded, not getting soft, not turning into one of those ass-shaking boys who traded dignity for flash.
He shook his head. "We'll see."
Theo opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. "Fair enough. But the offer stands."
They rode in silence for another minute. The road narrowed, trees thickening on both sides until the estates disappeared behind dense green walls. Asphalt turned to smooth private blacktop. A discreet sign appeared—gold lettering on black stone: "Private Drive – Residents Only."
Theo slowed. "We're here."
Kota frowned. "Here where? This looks like woods."
Theo smiled, small and proud. "Exactly. The property starts at the tree line. The driveway is just over a mile long. Gives privacy."
Kota leaned forward, peering through the windshield. "A mile-long driveway?"
"Mm-hmm. Dad insisted. Said it kept the riffraff at a distance."
The McLaren glided past the gate—automatic, no visible guard shack—and the world narrowed to tunnel vision: tall pines on both sides, perfectly spaced, branches trimmed so they formed a green cathedral overhead. No potholes. No litter. Just flawless pavement stretching ahead like a black ribbon.
Kota watched the odometer tick. Half a mile. Three-quarters. The trees finally thinned, revealing open lawn that rolled away in gentle waves. And then the house appeared.
It didn't rise so much as unfold.
A massive, sweeping curve of glass and stone and steel, four full stories tall, stretching at least five hundred feet across the crest of a low hill. Thirty thousand square feet, Theo had said once in passing; now Kota believed it. The facade was modern but warm—floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the morning light, white marble steps leading up to double-height entry doors, balconies cantilevered at every level like they were daring gravity. Twelve garage bays lined the east wing, doors closed but the sheer number of them visible even from a distance. In front of the main house, an infinity pool stretched toward the horizon, water so still it looked like liquid glass, the edge disappearing into the lawn beyond.
Kota's mouth went dry.
Theo eased the McLaren to a stop at the top of the circular drive, engine purring down to a whisper. He killed the ignition. Silence settled, broken only by the faint tick of cooling metal.
Kota stared. And stared.
Theo watched him, expression soft. "Welcome home."
Kota swallowed. "This is... your house."
"One of them." Theo's voice was quiet. "Dad has others. This is the main residence. Where I grew up."
Kota didn't move. Couldn't. The scale of it pressed against his chest. He'd seen big houses on billboards, in old videos, but never like this. Never real. Never close enough to touch.
Theo reached over, fingers brushing Kota's wrist. "You okay?"
Kota exhaled slowly. "Shell-shocked."
Theo laughed—gentle, understanding. "Take your time. We've got all day."
Kota nodded once, eyes still locked on the mansion through the windshield. The infinity pool shimmered. Somewhere distant, a fountain burbled. The world outside the car felt impossibly large, impossibly expensive, impossibly far from the two-bedroom apartment with chain-link balconies and rice-and-beans dinners.
He stayed seated, seatbelt still buckled, letting the reality sink in one slow, heavy second at a time.