Later that afternoon.
The second movie had just finished playing. Liam picked up his phone to check the time as he remembered that Stacy and her friends are coming over.
3:16 PM. They should be arriving soon and I haven't even thought of preparing what they will eat.
Since he's inviting them over and they will be his guests, then he will have to treat them. Which mean he has to cook what they will eat but his kitchen is completely empty of ingredients. He would need to go and buy groceries.
Yes, he can order something the food but Liam felt that it wouldn't be appropriate. They are coming to his house, it's only appropriate that they eat home cooked meal. It's completely different if he's taking them out or something.
Besides, he wants to show off his World-Class Culinary Arts skill.
For the groceries, Liam thought of possibly ordering them online and having it delivered to his place, but he decided against it.
He decided to use it as an opportunity to get some fresh air. He has been stuck inside the house for half the day, he really need to stretch his legs a little.
He picked up the control tablet and switched off the TV, the AC and opened the curtain, allowing sunlight to flood the theatre.
After he was done with that, he stood up from the recliner and left the home theatre, before making his way to the garage.
Stepping into the garage, the first thing Liam noticed was the new arrival—the Rolls-Royce Ghost Black Badge—parked there elegantly.
As a sucker for the color black, the car looks stunning.
The deep obsidian black paint absorbed garage's light more than it reflected, giving the car a mysterious, almost void-like presence. Unlike the showy gleam of most luxury cars, this one had a subtle, commanding matte gloss but it made it impossible to ignore.
The Spirit of Ecstasy on the hood wasn't silver—it was gloss black, stealthy and dignified. Even the grille and trim—normally polished chrome—had been darkened to a sleek blackened chrome, keeping the theme consistent and refined.
Its long silhouette looked like it was carved from obsidian, with every curve flowing into the next. The 23-inch carbon alloy wheels were finished in a tinted gloss black, revealing deep red brake calipers that hinted at something fiercer beneath the calm surface.
Even without seeing the interior of the car, Liam already understood why the brand is praised and loved so much by people.
He wanted nothing more at the moment than to take that car out for a spin but he held himself back. He was going to the grocery store, he can't drive a Rolls Royce there... Right?
Yes, he can but he doesn't want to attract any unnecessary attention to himself, so he won't.
The Rolls Royce Ghost Black Badge had now increased the total number of cars he has to five. And he's yet to drive more than half of them.
He smiled as he took out the Maserati GranTurismo key fob from the system inventory and pressed the unlock button.
He opened the door, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine. The car roared to life and he steered it out of the garage, down the long driveway and through the gate.
He drove down the streets of Holmby Hills, making his way to the nearest grocery store being displayed on the car's GPS system.
***
Few minutes later, Liam parked in front of the store and stepped out of the car.
He looked at the store in front of him and shook his head in amusement.
It was just a grocery store—but only in name.
The store sat on a corner plot, its wide single-story structure easily three times the size of a regular supermarket. The exterior was minimalist and modern, designed with light stone, soft wood paneling, and wide vertical windows that stretched nearly from ground to roof. A single matte-gold logo sat above the entrance in small, tasteful lettering: Linden Market.
The clean-cut façade that blended effortlessly with the upscale surroundings.
A uniformed valet at the side entrance nodded at Liam respectfully, even though he hadn't used the valet service.
Liam smiled faintly and walked toward the glass doors.
They slid open smoothly, revealing an interior that felt more like a luxury boutique than a grocery store.
The floor was made of pale travertine marble, polished to a gentle gleam. Soft instrumental music played quietly through discreet ceiling speakers. The scent of fresh-cut flowers and subtle citrus cleaner lingered in the air. Lighting was soft and ambient, seemingly focused more on atmosphere than brightness.
A concierge desk—the counter—sat to the right of the entrance. A well-dressed staff member behind it glanced up, offered a small nod, and returned to assisting a woman dressed in beige designer leisurewear.
Liam's eyes scanned the space.
The aisles were wide—broader than most living rooms—and lined with neatly arranged shelves filled with imported goods, artisanal brands, and organic produce. The layout wasn't cluttered as it looked clean with its intentional design.
He walked past a display of fresh fruit stacked like art—each apple, pear, and pomegranate carefully arranged. To the left was a glass counter for pre-prepped meals, with staff in chef whites serving small, curated dishes like roasted duck salad and truffle pasta.
Most of the customers didn't look rushed and one pushed carts with items piled high. Instead, they carried matte black handbaskets and took their time selecting things like wildflower honey, imported matcha powder, and $40 artisan bread.
Liam couldn't help but smile again.
Even the grocery shopping experience here was part of a curated lifestyle.
He picked up a handbasket and walked into the aisles, casually scanning the shelves. There were no prices on most items. Either you knew, or you didn't care.
He couldn't help but thank the system for the World-Class Etiquette skill, because without it, he would be completely lost and unable to carry himself properly in such a place.
He smiled to himself once more and started picking what he came for as he moved calmly through the aisles, scanning the meticulously arranged sections.
Despite how pristine and curated everything looked, he wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. His posture was relaxed and his pace unhurried. The World-Class Etiquette skill guided his every motion subtly—how he glanced at items, how he picked up and inspected products without fumbling, how he navigated around other shoppers.
The skill was really shaping him up and helping him adapt quickly to the world he was suddenly thrown into.
He started picking the items he needed from the sections. He wants to buy enough grocery to stock his kitchen for a few days and also for what he would cook for Stacy and her friends.
He had already decided on what to cook. The main course would be herb-roasted chicken Thighs with saffron jasmine rice, and the side dish would be heirloom tomato & avocado salad with balsamic glaze. Then ice cream with fruit slices for desert, and for refreshments, chilled citrus-mint mocktails.
Sounds very fancy and probably hard to cook. Fancy, yes. But hard? Not at all. Liam has World-Class Culinary Arts skill, no meal is hard for him to make.
By the time Liam was done with picking the things he needed and made it to the checkout counter, his handbasket was full—but not exaggeratedly so. It was a curated selection, just like everything in the store.
The cashier, a young woman in a pale gray uniform, greeted him politely again.
"Good afternoon, sir. I hope you found everything you were looking for?"
"Yes, thank you," Liam replied, and placed the basket on the counter.
She began scanning the items—each one sliding across the sensor with a soft beep, the price showing briefly on the screen before disappearing.
The total rang up on the discreet side screen: $684.32.
Liam didn't flinch as he pulled out his card and tapped it on the terminal. The beep confirmed the payment had gone through, and the cashier bowed slightly.
"Would you like assistance carrying these to your car?"
"No need. I'm good," Liam replied calmly.
The groceries were placed into three matte-black, reusable shopping bags with the Linden Market logo printed in small gold lettering. They were sturdy and beautifully made—likely worth a lot.
Liam thanked the staff, took the bags, and exited through the glass doors.
Outside, the sun had shifted to the softer tones of late afternoon. His Maserati gleamed under the gentle light, its dark curves reflecting the manicured trees that lined the store's perimeter.
He walked to the car, opened the trunk, and carefully placed the bags inside before climbing into the driver's seat.
The engine purred to life with a low, growl.
As he pulled out of the parking space and steered toward the exit, Liam spared one last glance at the store through the rearview mirror.
"Grocery shopping feels like a fashion show here," he said to himself with a light laugh.
The drive home was quiet and smooth. The streets of Holmby Hills were peaceful, the neighborhood perfectly landscaped and watched over by discreet security patrols.
Every home here was an estate and has a story behind them, giving them their prestige. And the same was so Liam's property.
Soon, the front gates of Bellemere Mansion appeared ahead, and as he approached, they parted for him automatically.
The tires crunched softly over the drive as he pulled into the garage and parked the Maserati beside the Rolls-Royce.
He popped the trunk, grabbed the grocery bags, and walked toward the interior door.
By the time he got to the kitchen, it was 3:40 PM.
"They'll be here in twenty minutes…" he muttered, placing the bags on the counter and moving quickly but gracefully.
He was already running out of time but he felt that he would probably be done before they arrive.
He unpacked the ingredients like a professional chef preparing for a TV show. The kitchen island became his stage, and the ingredients his co-stars.
Time to show them what World-Class Culinary Arts really meant.
A/N: Do you guys need pictures of the cars?