Special Chapter: The Sovereign's Grocery Purchasing (Part 1)

It was the end of the year, and the city was drowning in the frantic energy of holiday consumerism. Every storefront screamed with discount banners, and the streets were choked with a sea of people and idling engines. In the heart of the city, traffic had ground to a terminal halt. Even the most elite hypercars were being outpaced by the stray dogs trotting along the sidewalk.

Inside his silver Spyker C8, Damien's knuckles turned a sharp, lethal white against the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

A dark, vengeful glint flickered in his pale gray eyes. Catherine Winters. When I get back, you're dead.

He was a guest. He was supposed to be enjoying a civilized New Year's dinner. Instead, he was decaying in a gridlock because Kitten had the unmitigated gall to demand that her guests provide the ingredients for their own meal.

The absurdity had begun an hour ago.

The moment Damien had stepped out of the car at Julian Lancaster's estate with Mia Clarke on his arm, Kitten had come charging out of the kitchen brandishing a spatula.

"Oh, this is bad! This is very bad!" she'd shrieked. "We're out of greens! Damien-ge, be a darling and go to the market for me?"

Damien, who had spent his life purchasing illegal armaments, private islands, and the silence of politicians, had never in his thirty-two years purchased a head of lettuce. The request was so alien it was practically a physical assault.

He was halfway through a cold, absolute "No" when Julian appeared in the doorway, arching a brow.

"Damien," Julian said calmly. "A word."

Damien's eyes narrowed. He's actually going to negotiate. Intrigued by his brother's audacity, Damien strolled over.

The two brothers stood face-to-face, skipping the pleasantries. "Name your price," Julian said flatly. "Kitten and I can't leave the stove, and you're the only person with hands currently doing nothing."

Damien rubbed his chin. He had zero interest in groceries, but he had a profound interest in bleeding the "Saint" of the Lancaster family dry.

Damien smiled, an elegant, predatory expression. "That depends on how much your peace of mind is worth to you today, Julian."

"One million," Julian countered instantly. "Cash. One-time payment."

"Five million."

Julian didn't blink, though his soul was likely weary. "Two million."

"Four."

"Three," Julian snapped. "That's my ceiling."

"Deal."

The two men walked back to the car as if they'd just settled a continental trade dispute. Damien wrapped an arm around Mia's waist and turned her back toward the Spyker.

"Come on," he murmured. "You're coming with me to buy vegetables."

Behind them, Kitten threw her arms around Julian. "Honey! You're amazing! How did you get the Sovereign to agree to run an errand?"

Julian forced a smile, though his heart was bleeding. "In the future, I'll do the shopping myself, Kitten. That grocery run just cost me three weeks of blood and sweat. That man is a capitalist monster."

Which led to the current reality: Damien and Mia, trapped in a river of steel.

Damien had already liquidated Julian and Kitten a thousand times over in his mind. If he'd known buying a few carrots would be this tedious, he wouldn't have done it for thirty million.

Slowly, at a literal crawl, they finally cleared the highway.

But then, a new problem emerged. And for once, it wasn't Damien who noticed it—it was Mia.

Mia rarely left the estate and had a poor sense of direction, but even she realized they were circling. When Damien stopped at a red light for the third time at the exact same intersection, she finally spoke up.

"Damien..." she whispered. "I think... I think we've passed this light three times."

Damien's handsome profile remained frozen. He rested his chin on his hand, staring straight ahead, his lips pressed into a stoic, silent line.

Mia immediately felt a wave of trepidation. I'm questioning him. I'm questioning the Sovereign's sense of direction. Chairman Mao had taught that skepticism was a dangerous thing, and in this house, questioning Damien Lancaster was usually a terminal error.

The red light began its countdown. 10... 9... 8...

When it hit 5, the Sovereign finally spoke, his voice a low, slow drawl.

"...Mia. I should probably mention that I have never been to a grocery store."

The subtext was clear: He had no idea where he was going.

Mia felt a cold sweat break across her forehead. She turned to look at him as if he were a visitor from another galaxy. "Then why are you driving?!"

"I'm lost, Mia. I'm not incompetent at operating a vehicle."

He'd assumed he could just drive until he saw a sign that said "Market." In his mind, they used to be everywhere. He hadn't accounted for the fact that a decade of aggressive urban planning, police sweeps of illegal street vendors, and corporate gentrification had moved the humble wet markets into the annals of history.

The world had changed, but the Sovereign hadn't noticed from the windows of his private jets.

"Why didn't you just ask Kitten for the address?" Mia asked, her head spinning.

Damien let out a soft, derisive hiss. "Ask her? Are you joking? If I let that little brat know that Damien Lancaster doesn't know how to buy a cabbage, she'll laugh until she chokes."

He jerked the steering wheel, pulled the car to the curb, and reached for his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Call Gideon."

He began dialing, his voice returning to its slow, methodical rhythm. "We'll just go to the Lancaster-owned supermarket. It's further out, but it's ours. It'll save time."

Mia sighed with relief. "Okay. That works..."

But then, Damien's thumb hovered over the call button. He paused.

"What is it?" Mia asked.

"I forgot something today," Damien murmured, his voice laced with a languid, dangerous irritation.

"Money? It's fine, I have my purse."

"Not money," Damien said. "I didn't bring my piece. I'm not carrying a gun."

Mia went silent. Sir, are you buying broccoli or starting a coup?

Damien leaned back, looking genuinely troubled. "I'm not used to crowds without security. Forget it. I'll have Gideon clear the store. I want every civilian out of the building before we arrive so we can just grab what we need and leave."

Mia lunged across the seat and snatched the phone out of his hand, her stoic mask finally cracking.

"Damien! We are going grocery shopping! We are not committing an armed robbery!"