Ryan and Mr. Jace were utterly stunned, their faces frozen in shock. Mr. Jace was the first to react, his composure cracking slightly. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and trepidation.

Melvin repeated what he had said earlier, the words pouring out in a rush. Mr. Jace couldn't believe what he was hearing-Konvensky, his youngest son, was actually coming back home. Even Ryan found it hard to process the information; his younger brother, who had been away for twelve long years, was finally returning.

Mr. Jace looked at Melvin, who had brought the news, and asked, "How on earth did you know he's coming back?"

Melvin shrugged nonchalantly, his shoulders rising and falling in a gentle motion. "He told Freeda, and I overheard Mom and her talking about it," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Jace sighed deeply, his chest heaving with a mix of emotions. He knew Konvensky would likely be angry at him for sending him away at such a young age, but he had had no choice. Konvensky was simply too stubborn; they had to change schools almost every term because he kept getting expelled for his rebellious behavior.

"Dad," Ryan called out, his voice soft and reassuring, "you don't have to feel bad for sending him away. It was for his own good. He's grown now; I'm sure he'll understand why you did that."

Mr. Jace took a deep breath before speaking, his voice laced with a hint of guilt and uncertainty. "I guess he'll understand when he comes. Go tell the general commander of the military to assign twenty soldiers at the airport to ensure his safety," he instructed.

"And make sure to clear the scene before he lands to avoid reporters and paparazzi," Ryan added, his voice firm and authoritative.

Melvin's mouth twitched at the princely treatment, but he knew this level of security was necessary for Konvensky, given he was a globally famous celebrity. He stood up, said goodbye, and went to execute the task assigned to him with a sense of duty and loyalty.

Airport

The flight from Singapore to New York had just landed, and everyone was disembarking in a flurry of activity. A young man in his twenties stepped out, his presence unignorable. He wore black baggy pants and a black hoodie, effectively concealing his identity while radiating an aura of cold detachment. His ocean-blue eyes swept over the waiting crowd, flickering momentarily when he saw the excessive number of soldiers in the waiting area.

He knew immediately this must be his father's or brothers' work, and a hint of annoyance crossed his face. He scoffed, turning in the opposite direction and eating up the distance with his long strides. A man was already waiting for him with a motorcycle, looking relieved to see him. Konvensky threw his luggage at the man, took the bike keys, and said, "Take it to those soldiers standing there. Tell them I've gotten home already."

He drove off into the city, leaving the man shivering in his wake, watching him disappear without any security. The man nervously relayed the message as he had been asked, filled with a sense of trepidation.

Later

Michelle was wearing jogger pants and a dark hoodie, walking by the side of a quiet road, lost in thought. She just wanted a little fresh air and some time alone from all the chaos at home. Walking slowly, her figure looked desolate as the night wind blew gently through her hair.

Unbeknownst to her, a powerful motorcycle was approaching from behind, its engine purring softly. The sudden sound of a piercing horn made her turn purely out of instinct, but the bike just drove past without stopping, its rider a blur of black. Michelle stumbled back, startled and annoyed.

"Annoying jerk," Michelle muttered, panting slightly as she tried to calm her racing heart.

Jace's Mansion

The large dining table was being set, the aroma of gourmet food wafting deliciously through the air. The family was sitting down to eat when they heard the distinctive sound of a motorcycle engine roaring outside.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Mr. Jace asked, staring at Melvin, who was the only one likely to bring someone to the house at this time.

"I'm not expecting anyone," Melvin said, his voice firm and reassuring.

The curious gaze of everyone turned to the door, waiting for the visitor to come in. The door opened, revealing a black sneaker first. Time seemed to freeze as everyone stood still, staring at the person who had just entered, a mixture of shock and wonder on their faces.

Konvensky's cold gaze swept over everyone's faces, the room falling silent as they waited for his reaction. Mrs. Jace immediately rushed forward and pounded on him, hugging him tightly as she cried, her body shaking with sobs of relief. Konvensky frowned slightly but let her hug him to her satisfaction, his expression softening just a fraction.

Pulling away from the embrace, Mrs. Jace cupped his face with both hands, asking a flurry of maternal questions: "How have you been? Have you been eating well? Have you missed me?" Konvensky frowned again, thinking internally that she hadn't changed despite his long absence.

"I'm fine," he said in a cold voice, his tone detached.

"Sky," Freeda called, pulling him for a hug and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

Konvensky groaned, pushing her away slightly. "Stop calling me Sky. I'm not a kid, and stop kissing me, too."

Freeda scoffed, turning to her father. "Dad, I think he's even more cold-hearted now." She went back to her seat, her expression a mix of amusement and concern.

Melvin patted her head gently as he turned his attention back to Konvensky. "Konvensky, I thought you said you were coming tomorrow?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Konvensky simply strolled past him, taking his seat at the dining table, then turned to look at Melvin. "You're still so noisy," he muttered.

Melvin ground his teeth in anger, genuinely irritated by his younger brother's attitude. "Hey, kid," Melvin said, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Konvensky shot him a glare so cold it made Melvin instinctively raise his hands in mock apology. "Sorry, I forgot you're now a general," Melvin said, making a zipping motion over his lips.

Mr. Jace, who had been watching the exchange with an awkward expression, walked up to Konvensky and patted him gently on the shoulder. "You're welcome back, son," he said, his voice warm with genuine affection.

Konvensky's response was immediate and cutting. "Old man, stop acting so nice. I haven't forgotten what you did," he said, his voice light but laced with a clear hint of menace.

Mr. Jace's hand dropped awkwardly. Ryan, sensing the tension needed diffusing, cleared his throat. "Dad, you know how he is, so don't take it personally," he said, offering a reassuring smile.

As they sat down to eat, Freeda immediately bombarded Konvensky with questions about his twelve years in Singapore. But Konvensky barely responded, his attention focused entirely on his food. Freeda tried every angle to engage him in conversation, but it was like talking to a brick wall. Finally, she gave up and turned her attention to Melvin.

Later that evening, Konvensky walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his waist. He strode into his expansive dressing room, looking for a pair of pajamas to wear. As he reached for a black pair, his mind wandered back to the girl he had nearly run over earlier on the road.

"Her face is quite enchanting," he muttered to himself, a rare flicker of interest crossing his otherwise stoic expression.

Just then, a knock came at the door. Before he could respond, Freeda and Melvin walked right in. Freeda collapsed dramatically onto the bed, while Melvin leaned casually against the bedpost, watching Konvensky with a mixture of amusement and wariness.

Konvensky's gaze turned instantly cold, and he muttered just two words: "Get out."

Freeda pouted, trying to wheedle her way into Konvensky's good books. "Sky, can't you be a little bit softer? We haven't seen you for so long, and you're just going to send us out?"

But Konvensky's expression remained unyielding. "I don't want to repeat myself," he said, his voice firm and final.

Melvin chuckled and shook his head good-naturedly. "He's still as toxic as ever," he muttered, guiding Freeda out of the room.

Not long after, Konvensky emerged from his room, dressed entirely in a sleek, all-black outfit-ready to leave the house again.

"Where are you going?" Freeda asked, her voice full of curiosity, leaning over the banister.

Konvensky glanced up at her briefly and said, "To get you a husband." With that, he strode out of the house, leaving Freeda red-faced and sputtering in anger.

Meanwhile, Michelle was having trouble sleeping. The previous chapters had left her restless and anxious. She got out of bed and began to look for something to wear, settling on blue baggy pants, a blue shirt, and a black hoodie. She slipped out of the house, craving the cool night air on her face. She didn't have a destination in mind; she just wanted to walk and clear her head.

As she walked, the streetlights cast long shadows behind her. She looked stunning in the dim light, her long black hair blowing gently in the wind.

Unbeknownst to her, Konvensky was driving his motorcycle in the opposite direction, his eyes scanning the road ahead. When his gaze landed on her solitary figure, he increased his speed, stopping abruptly in front of her. He killed the engine, removed his helmet, and their eyes met. Konvensky's interest was visibly piqued as he recognized her face.

"You're..." Michelle started to say, her voice barely above a whisper, recognizing the annoying jerk from earlier.

But Konvensky quickly interrupted her, his voice low and commanding, his eyes locked firmly on hers: "Keep your voice down."

e

"What is your name?" Konvensky asked, stepping down from his bike.

Michelle pointed at herself with wide, incredulous eyes. "Me?" she asked, her voice a squeak.

"Is there someone else here?" he countered, raising his eyebrows in the darkness.

"I'm... I'm... I'm..." Michelle stuttered, finding it nearly impossible to believe that one of the most famous artists in the world was standing in front of her on her quiet residential street.

"I don't bite," he said, a slight frown crossing his brow. "Why are you stammering?"

Michelle's shock broke. She spun on her heel and dashed into the street, running like her life depended on it.

Konvensky stood dumbfounded. Was he really that scary? He had just found the perfect opportunity to meet her again, and she had run away without even saying her name. He stared into the distance where the girl had fled. He had the urge to chase after her but decided against it.

His phone began to ring. Reaching for his pocket to retrieve it, he scoffed seeing the name displayed on the screen. He pressed the answer icon, and a voice immediately rang out.

"General Konvensky!" Greyson chirped through the phone with a wide grin, making a mock saluting gesture on his end.

"Fuck off," Konvensky said, walking back to his bike.

"Where are you?" Greyson asked, looking around suspiciously at his own location.

"What do you want?" Konvensky asked, ignoring his question.

"We are at Chilly Hubs. Do you mind joining us? There are a lot of pretty ladies here." Greyson turned the camera so Konvensky could see the crowded club.

"Send me the address," Konvensky said, starting his bike and driving off.

Meanwhile, Michelle had just gotten home. She collapsed onto her bed, her heart still racing rapidly as she recalled what had just happened.

"I think he might be an impostor," she muttered, trying to rationalize the encounter. But she shook her head almost immediately; she was sure it was the real JK. But how could he be here, and why was he asking for her name?

She let out a long sigh, standing up and going to her wardrobe to change into her pajamas. Lying back down on the bed, her mind drifted back further, to the day she was walking on the street and a bike had suddenly driven past her.

She gasped and sat up straight. "It was him!" she thought aloud. Lying back down, she could still remember those cold, piercing blue eyes that seemed to captivate everyone's attention. She felt that when he looked at her, he could see right through her soul.

As her thoughts wandered, she drifted off to sleep.

Chilly Hubs

Konvensky walked into the club. The dim red light gave off an intense sense of excitement. He moved past the girls at the doorway who kept flirting with him, his gaze scanning the room until he spotted Greyson in the midst of three women.

He raised a brow, scoffing inwardly before he sat on a chair opposite Greyson's table.

"Hey, General," Greyson said with a grin, quickly shaking the girls off his arm. He buttoned his shirt as he turned to the women. "You can go for now," he instructed.

The girls stood up and walked out, albeit reluctantly. They didn't want to offend Greyson, but they couldn't help but stare at the masked man who had just sat down. He was wearing a face mask and a hat, so they couldn't see his face properly. They had to give up their curiosity since they couldn't get a proper look at him.

"Hey, man," Greyson said, stretching his hand out for a handshake.

Konvensky stared at his hand coldly without moving a muscle.

Greyson dropped his hand awkwardly and cleared his throat, adjusting his position on the chair.

"If I remember correctly, you have a girlfriend, right?" Konvensky said, staring him down.

"Oh! About that, I already discarded her a long time ago," Greyson replied casually, dismissing the relationship with a wave of his hand. "She's so annoying and wouldn't even let me touch her, despite us dating for a year. Plus, she's always hovering around, like she doesn't have anything else to do with her life. She's just so obsessed with me." He said the last sentence with a hint of sickening pride.

"That's your business," Konvensky said nonchalantly. He wasn't the type to meddle in other people's affairs; he just asked because of the women he had seen Greyson with.

Greyson pouted his lips slightly, whining, "But you asked me!"

"I asked if you had a girlfriend, and your response was supposed to be yes or no, not your family issues," Konvensky said, standing up to leave.

"Hey, you just got here! Why are you leaving immediately?" Greyson said with a mix of grievance and confusion.

Konvensky didn't even bother to answer him; he just walked out and drove off into the night.

Konvensky got home and went to take his bath. As he stepped out, he thought of the girl he had gone to see earlier, and his lips curled up slightly as he thought about her dumbfounded expression when she realized he was JK.

"She is just too beautiful," he thought. But then he shook his head, muttering, "What am I thinking?"

He couldn't get her off his mind-that was precisely why he had left the club so abruptly; she was just all over his memories.

He lay down on the bed and dozed off to sleep.