After finishing his breakfast, Liam grabbed his phone and car key, ready to leave for the nearest branch of one of the real estate companies he had looked up online.
Just as he was locking his door and heading toward the elevator, his phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.
He frowned slightly. He wasn't expecting any calls.
Then he remembered—Stacy had collected his number yesterday.
His expression relaxed as he answered the call and brought the phone to his ear.
"Hey, good morning. It's me," a cheerful female voice said. "The girl who took your number in the lobby yesterday."
"Yeah, I remember. Stacy, right?"
"Yup! You remembered my name. Seems I made an impression yesterday," she said, teasing slightly.
He didn't reply to that line, though he found her approach a little amusing. It was still early, and her tone was already light and inquisitive. He could guess what this was about.
"So, Miss Stacy," he said with mock politeness, "you have anything for me?"
"Umm, not really. I was just wondering if we could go out. You know... Talk and stuff."
Liam's smile widened.
So that's how she wants to get closer. Interesting.
Truth be told, he didn't mind. He had no friends, no one to call or hang out with. A little distraction wouldn't hurt. But he had something more important to do this morning.
"I'd love that," Liam said warmly. "But I'm a little busy right now. Why don't I call you some other time and we can go out for dinner? What do you think?"
"Sure. That would be nice. I'll be waiting for your call, Mr..."
"Okay, Mr. Liam. I'll be waiting," she said playfully and hung up.
Liam tucked the phone into his pocket just as the elevator doors slid open. He stepped in with a satisfied smile.
Thirty minutes later, Liam parked his Maserati in front of a large glass-paneled building in downtown Westbridge, California—a peaceful and upscale city on the western coastline, known for its tech influence and elite real estate.
He looked up at the imposing sign fixed above the entrance:
It was one of the largest and most reputable real estate companies in the country. Their Westbridge branch handled dozens of premium clients and specialized in property management for luxury estates.
Liam nodded to himself, satisfied with his choice.
He stepped out of the car, straightened his collar, and grabbed the folder holding his property documents from the passenger seat. The moment he entered the lobby, he was greeted by cool air conditioning, minimalist decor, and a scent of expensive polish. A front desk attendant looked up as he approached.
"Good morning, sir," she said politely.
"Good morning," Liam replied. "My name's Liam Scott. I'm here to speak with someone about managing my property."
"Of course. May I ask what kind of property it is?" she asked, already reaching for her tablet.
Liam handed over the folder. "It's the White Clover Residential Complex. Located in Yellow Creek Avenue."
The receptionist's eyes widened slightly.
She blinked, then blinked again, before slowly taking the folder. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she flipped it open to confirm the contents.
"...White Clover?" she repeated.
"Yes," Liam said simply.
A beat passed, and she quickly reached for the phone.
"Please wait just a moment," she said, voice now noticeably more polite. She picked up the receiver and spoke quickly, her eyes flicking back to Liam now and then.
"Mr. Newman, good morning. A Mr. Liam Scott is here. He's looking for someone to manage his property—yes, White Clover Residential Complex at Yellow Creek Avenue."
Even from across the desk, Liam could hear the reaction from the other end of the line. The receptionist winced slightly and nodded.
"Understood," she said and placed the receiver down. "Someone will be right with you shortly, Mr. Scott. Please make yourself comfortable."
Liam gave a small nod and stepped aside.
He didn't even have time to sit when a tall man in a sleek grey suit came walking briskly from one of the glass offices in the back. His gait was confident, and his eyes scanned Liam with professional interest.
"Mr. Scott?" he asked, smiling as he extended his hand. "I'm Trevor Newman. Vice President of this branch."
Liam shook his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you."
"Please, come with me. Let's talk in my office."
Inside Trevor Newman's office.
The space was bright and modern, filled with tasteful wooden finishes and neatly organized files. A few plaques hung on the wall—awards, recognitions, and certifications.
"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"
"I'm good," Liam said, setting the folder of documents on the table. "Let's get straight to the point."
"Of course," Newman said with a professional smile, though Liam could sense the curiosity in his eyes.
He opened the folder and began flipping through the documents carefully.
Even though the receptionist had already informed him, seeing the name White Clover on official deed papers stunned him again. That complex wasn't just prestigious. It was a fortress of exclusivity.
And yet... the boy in front of him—well-dressed, but undeniably young—had handed it over with the same calmness someone might hand over a parking ticket.
Trevor glanced up from the papers and studied Liam for a moment.
Who is he? Some heir to an old-money family? A hidden tycoon's son?
He had dealt with rich clients before, but there was something about Liam's presence—quiet, composed, detached—that made him think there was more beneath the surface.
Not when the opportunity to manage White Clover had just landed in his lap.
"This is quite a property," Newman said, closing the folder. "We'll take great care of it."
He straightened in his seat.
"After we assess and list the available units for rent, the revenue—minus our management fee—will be transferred directly to your account. We'll assign a top-tier team to handle maintenance, tenant screening, financial audits, and any regulatory filings on your behalf."
Liam nodded. "That works. Let's go ahead with it."
Newman pulled out some additional documents. "Then all I'll need are your signatures here and here. Also, if you could write down your preferred bank for deposits."
Liam signed calmly and handed over the necessary details.
By the time they were done, Trevor had already sent an internal memo to his senior team. Liam Scott was now a VVIP client of SilverStone Realty.
Newman stood and escorted him back to the lobby personally.
"Mr. Scott," he said, opening the door, "if there's anything you need—anything at all—just give me a call."
"Thanks," Liam said, shaking his hand again.
As he walked back to his car, Liam felt oddly pleased. He saw how Mr Newman had treated him and he wouldn't lie, it felt nice.
With he property taken care of and no other plans for the day, and since he doesn't want to go back home and just lounge on his sofa and bed, he decided to call Stacy.
Let's see the distraction she's going to bring.