The sun hung high over the city, its light glinting off the rooftops as Clyde Permetone, a nine-year-old boy with deep blue eyes and a restless heart, leaned against the window of his car. After two long years at Royal Mist Academy, he was finally going home.
"Young Master Clyde, the weather is perfect for the journey home," Albert said. His lean frame was straight beneath his crisp suit, and his tone carried the precise professionalism expected of someone serving the heir to one of the city's most powerful business families.
Clyde sat by the tinted window, his eyes following the skyline as sunlight spilled golden hues across the glass towers.
"I agree. It feels good to be returning. I can't wait to be back," he replied, his voice filled with innocent excitement.
Albert gave a polite nod. "Indeed, Young Master. There is no place more comforting than home."
Clyde smiled warmly. "Albert, inform the driver to make haste. I want us home before sundown."
"As you wish," Albert replied, bowing slightly before pulling out his walkie-talkie to instruct the driver.
Clyde returned to his book, its pages fluttering as the breeze from the half-open window brushed against them.
The car sped through the streets, the wind rushing against Clyde's pale face. He imagined his mother's embrace, his father's proud smile, and the laughter of his younger siblings echoing through the grand halls of the mansion.
Meanwhile, at the Permetone Estate, preparations were in full swing.
The mansion glittered with chandeliers and ribbons. Servants hurried about while the scent of fresh roses filled the air. Clyde's parents had spared no expense—a grand party was planned to celebrate their son's return. Guests would arrive at 5:30 p.m., and Clyde was expected home by 6:00 p.m.
"Shift the balloons to the left aisle! Add more ribbons to the walls! Raise the banner higher! Less green, more blue!"
Diana's voice rang sharply across the hall as her eyes scanned every detail with the precision of a CEO reviewing a quarterly report.
The head maids tried to intervene, gently reminding her that organizing the event was their responsibility.
"Nonsense!" Diana snapped. "My son is coming home, and everything must be perfect. I won't leave this entirely to anyone else."
The master of the house—a man whose power stretched across finance and real estate—watched quietly. He adored his wife far too much to oppose her, and so he allowed her to command the preparations as she pleased.
The Permetone family was no ordinary household.
Their wealth was old, their influence vast, and their fortune had been built upon generations of thriving business empires. But it was not money alone that set them apart.
Each member carried unique traits—gifts that shaped their success and curses that bound them together.
Beyond the mansion's golden gates, however, the city was beginning to stir with unrest.
Around noon, strange things began to happen.
Groups of people dressed in black moved through the streets, whispering and plotting. Then chaos erupted. Criminals—both notorious and petty—embarked on a crime spree unlike anything the city had ever seen.
Sirens wailed.
Smoke rose in the distance.
News channels filled with panic.
At the estate, Mrs. Permetone watched the reports with trembling hands.
"It's a curse," she whispered. "What if it ruins Clyde's homecoming?"
Her husband placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"It'll be all right," he said softly. "Tonight is for joy."
Evening came, and the mansion glowed like a jewel.
Limousines lined the driveway as celebrities, ministers, and business tycoons stepped out in shimmering attire. The air buzzed with excitement. Some saw the event as a social debut for the young heir, while others viewed it as an opportunity to strengthen their ties with the powerful Permetone family.
Then, at last, Clyde arrived.
The crowd turned as the boy stepped out of the car, his silky black hair catching the light.
His mother rushed forward, tears glistening in her eyes, and wrapped him in a tight embrace. His siblings clung to him, laughing and crying all at once.
The party erupted into applause.
Hours passed in celebration. Music filled the halls, laughter echoed through the mansion, and gifts piled high around Clyde.
By 8:15 p.m., the younger children had gone to bed, but the festivities continued for the adults. Guests murmured about the mounting chaos in the city, quietly praying that it would not reach the estate gates.
At midnight, the highlight of the evening began.
Everyone gathered on the grand rooftop and gazed into the night sky as fireworks burst overhead.
Colours danced and shimmered, eventually forming the name CLYDE in blazing letters. Hearts, flowers, and even a stylized silhouette of his face appeared among the cascading sparks.
Then Mr. Permetone stepped forward.
A servant wheeled out a cart draped in heavy red velvet.
With a dramatic flourish, Mr. Permetone unveiled its contents.
Resting upon the velvet was a magnificent ring—a flawless diamond surrounded by a halo of rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and jade.
Its value was astronomical.
Seventy million dollars.
"This," he declared proudly, "is for my son—the light of our family."
The crowd gasped in absolute awe.
Entirely unaware that, far beyond the mansion walls, the darkness consuming the city was already beginning to spread.
And as Clyde smiled beneath the fireworks, his name glowing brilliantly above him, fate quietly began to turn its wheel.