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.