The next morning, before the sun even lifted over Winchester, Alex headed straight to the city''srgest car showroom.


    The ce was a fortress of ss and steel, packed with the most expensive machines the empire could build.


    He came with one purpose: to buy a car so extraordinary that no one would ever dare question Sofina''s worth again.


    She deserved the best-luxury, prestige, and a price tag that silenced every rumor before it even formed.


    He walked through the towering showroom doors and entered the massive dome where every premium and exclusive model sat under bright lights like jewels on disy.


    Alex scanned the room, eyes sharp, until he spotted it-the most expensive car in all of Prussia.


    V?XEN.


    A beast built in the same league as Lamborghini. The cheapest model started at a million dors. The top-tier version sat at eight million, gleaming like liquid metal.


    For Alex-with fifty billion dors in liquid assets sittingfortably in his ounts-that eight-million-dor masterpiece was nothing more than a slightly overpriced toy.


    He could buy it without blinking.


    But he hesitated.


    Sofina would never ept it.


    Not because she didn''t deserve it, but because she would agonize over the cost, demand an exnation he couldn''t give, and avoid driving it entirely out of humility.


    She hated drawing attention. A V?XEN would drag every eye in Winchester toward her.


    It would do more harm than good.


    He thought deeper.


    A Baron driving a car that even Viscounts and Counts struggled to afford would spark jealousy-real, dangerous jealousy.


    Nobles could be petty, vicious even, over something as trivial as horsepower. One wrong move, one sh of superiority, and they''d turn it into a personal war.


    Better to keep the peace.


    Better not to provoke men whose pride was thinner than hair yet sharper than the des they carried.


    He needed something prestigious but not ostentatious. Elegant but practical. A car Sofina could drive daily without fear of scratching eight million dors'' worth of paint.


    And there it was.


    The Arcturus 6.


    A polished, extended flying car-sleek, respected, and favored by noble who wanted ss without theatrics.


    Exclusive but not offensive. Luxurious but still believable. It fit Sofina perfectly.


    As Alex walked to the Arcturus booth


    Four sales executives instantly straightened their jackets, forced bright smiles onto their faces, and perked up the moment someone stepped toward their booth. Hope flickered in their eyes-a customer.


    "A customering in. Anyone see what he''s driving?" one whispered sharply.


    A sale meantmission. Amission meant bonus. And bonus meant survival in a job built on pressure.


    But just as they prepared to rush forward, a woman behind them let out a loud, annoyed snort.


    "Rx," she scoffed. "He came on a bicycle."


    Her voice dripped with contempt. "Probably here to take selfies and pretend he''s somebody. Ignore him."


    Their excitement died instantly.


    A bicycle meant waste of time.


    Earlier, Alex had ridden his bicycle to the showroom and parked it near the entrance.


    Inside, every salesperson had their screens synced to the parking lot and the main doors. They watched like wolves-alert, hungry, ready to pounce the moment a wealthy client appeared.


    If someone arrived in a roaring engine, wearing luxury on their sleeves, the sales team would sprint to the entrance, practically fighting each other to drag the customer to their own booth.


    But when a customer walked in looking like Alex-simple clothes, cheap bicycle,


    no shine, no status-they turned blind.


    They pretended he wasn''t there.


    Not worth a nod. Not worth a greeting.


    They refused to waste a single second on someone who looked "cheap."


    This was Winchester''s biggest


    luxury showroom-its pride, its temple. And every day, people with empty wallets stormed in just to feel powerful for a few minutes.


    They strutted between million-dor cars, touched everything, asked stupid questions, demanded test drives, then refused to get out of the vehicles.


    Some even lectured the sales staff about "why this car isn''t good enough," as if criticizing a supercar made them superior.


    All of it just so they could feed their starving egos.


    It wasted hours of the sales team''s time, and more than once, security had to physically escort those freeloaders out.


    So when Alex Saint-ire walked in-bicycle parked outside, clothes simple, nothing shy-he fit the stereotype perfectly.


    No one bothered to look twice at him. No one thought he could afford a single bolt


    on a car.


    Alex didn''t mind.


    Not even a little.


    He walked past all the cars without waiting for help and went straight to the Arcturus 6 disy. Several models sat under the warm lights, their polished frames glowing


    Price range: one hundred to two hundred thousand dors.


    The two-hundred-thousand model was the top-spec variant the premium one. Alex studied it closely.


    It looked incredible.


    Clean lines. Smooth frame. Efficient design. Prestigious, but not arrogant. Perfect


    for Sofina.


    And the price?


    More than reasonable. She wouldn''t faint, panic, or demand receipts.


    Alex pointed at the top-spec Arcturus 6.


    "Do you have ready stock for this model? I want to take it today."


    But the five salespeople didn''t even look up. Two kept tapping on their wrist-bracelet screens, another flipped through a digital catalog and the rest pretended he wasnt standing there at all.


    Alex stepped forward, voice steady and unmistakably clear.


    "I asked a question. Ready stock-yes or no?"


    One salesman let out a long, theatrical sigh.


    "Sir, this is not a rental bicycle. You don''t just... take it today."


    Another snickered without looking at him.


    "We see your type every week. Photos first? Or do you want to sit inside and pretend you''re buying it?"


    Alex''s lips curled-not in amusement, but in warning. "Let make these easy, that car, Arcturus 6, do you sell it or not?


    Two senior sales executives talked loudly to each other, not even bothering to


    whisper as they mocked him outright.


    "Did he seriously say he wants the top-spec?"


    "Let him. When he fails the credit check, we''llughter.”


    Alex turns slowly, expression razor-thin. "You''re very confident for men who


    haven''t made a sale all week."


    They stiffen. One steps forward. "We can''t entertain fantasies, sir. This model requires upfront clearance."


    Alex tilts his head. "What makes you so sure I can''t clear it?"


    The executive smirks. “You rode a bicycle."


    Alex''s voice dropped an octave, low and dangerous.


    "And you ride arrogance. Only one of us here can afford the cost."


    The salesman gave a stiff, mocking smile. "Yes, clearly. And with all due respect,


    sir... you''re the one who can''t afford anything."