Chapter 379: Tommy Chen’s Antics Tommy’s call, it turned out, was merely ceremonial. Ms. Chen, practical and decisive as always, had already secured their dream home before heading back to pack. The mansion they’d chosen wasn’t just impressive; it dwarfed the one I’d bought for Mom, sprawling and modern, nestled only two exclusive residences away from ours. Their choice spoke volumes: Tommy and his mom didn’t just want proximity; they needed it. The unspoken truth settled over me warm and solid—our families were entwined, roots growing deep and tangled together in a way that could never be cleanly severed. And that... that made me profoundly happy. It was a connection I wouldn’t, couldn’t, unshackle myself from. Ms. Chen was my other mother—a steady anchor, my third maternal figure after my lost birth mother and Linda. And Tommy? He wasn’t just a friend; he was the brother destiny had forgotten to give me. Tommy had called me here under the guise of a consultation, but its real purpose became terrifyingly clear the moment we stepped through the gleaming glass doors of the Torres Developments branch. Before I could utter a word, he dropped. Not figuratively—literally. Both knees hit the polished marble floor with a sharp crack that echoed in the hushed showroom. His eyes, wide and shining with unshed tears, locked onto mine. "Peter... man... I... I don’t even know where to start thanking you..." His voice thickened, choked with a gratitude so immense, so raw, it felt like a physical blow. Panic flared. This level of naked emotion wasn’t something I knew how to process. The visceral urge to kick my bastard friend right in his earnest, grateful ribs warred violently with the need to flee. Fleeing won. I turned and bolted, sneakers squeaking on the floor, ducking around a display of high-end kitchen fixtures. Tommy, bless his stubborn, grateful heart, scrambled up with a surprised laugh and gave chase. "Hey! Get back here, you emotionally stunted asshole!" Thus began the spectacle: two teenage—one suddenly world-famous, the other locally notorious as the fiancé of the Torres heiress—engaged in a frantic, laughing game of tag through a multi-million dollar real estate showroom. We weaved between stunned employees and gawking clients, Tommy’s larger frame surprisingly agile as he lunged. I dodged, vaulted over a low sofa, Tommy hot on my heels, his booming laughter echoing off the high ceiling. Far from annoyed, onlookers seemed captivated. Women saw a heartwarming scene: a strikingly handsome boy laughing as his exuberant, grateful friend chased him. Men saw something rarer: the unshakeable, unapologetic loyalty between two young men, a bond playful but solid, unbreakable in its own fierce, uncomplicated way. Cell phones emerged, recording the globally recognized teen genius Tommy Chen abandoning all decorum to chase his best friend through an ultra-luxury property development. Here, I wasn’t just Peter; whispers followed me—That’s Madison’s fiancé! Here to see to his friend Chen. My notoriety and Tommy’s fame collided in this bizarre, running display. Eventually, dodging behind a marble pillar, I conceded grinning. Tommy caught up, slapping a hand on my shoulder, his own chest heaving. The laughter subsided into a comfortable silence, then the real conversation began. It stretched long and meandering, bathed in the late afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. After making sure I was fine since my yesterday’s shocking fall, he told me everything—his whirlwind media blitz, his shock at the fortune, his fears about handling it, his awe at Charlotte Thompson’s staggering generosity. He asked everything that mattered—how I really felt about the sudden attention (or lack thereof), what came next for us, for any future projects. I answered what I could—truths layered with carefully constructed omissions. The depth of my secrets, the supernatural currents running beneath my skin, the true nature of my connection to my growing circle of women... these remained buried deep, locked away even from him. I gave him facts, but kept the dangerous, dazzling reality hidden. Throughout this entire chaotic, emotionally charged day, a plan had been solidifying in my mind. Tomorrow. Car shopping. Not just picking up one ride, but an expedition. I wanted all my women with me—Emma, Victoria, Ortega, Anya, Isabella, eventually Madison and Luna too. I wanted to buy each of them at least two cars, something powerful and beautiful that reflected them, then lose ourselves in a spree of shopping for the new life we were building. Call me excessive as you want but tomorrow, I was going to spoil them. If I don’t spend tens of millions, I won’t be me. The weekend was booked solid. Tomorrow and Sunday weren’t just days; they were dedicated to us. Moving furniture for those ready to transition into the estate, acquiring the symbols of freedom and identity, solidifying our shared world. Emma slept peacefully in the Audi’s back seat, a small, exhausted smile on her face, oblivious to the chaos she’d ignited earlier and the plans being woven around her. It was time to pick up Sarah. Tommy, naturally, insisted on coming along. The Audi purred to life beneath us. Emma didn’t stir. Tommy claimed the passenger seat, buckling in with a contented sigh. As we pulled away from the Torres Developments complex, heading towards Sarah’s school, the easy rhythm returned. We laughed—really, truly laughed—about the absurd firestorms in the Lincoln High group chats, dissecting Jack’s latest pathetic attempts to undermine me. We talked about the future, not as tech moguls or supernatural entities, but as two teenage boys mapping out possibilities. The Audi eased into Lincoln High’s parking zone, and the effect was instantaneous. Heads swiveled. Phones rose. The sleek, tinted car was recognizable enough, but the figures inside ignited a frenzy: Tommy Chen, global teen sensation and supposed tech genius, in the passenger seat... and a glimpse of me behind the wheel. The murmur rippling through the clusters of waiting students turned into a buzz, then a near-deafening swell of excitement and camera shutters. With Tommy beside me, the weight of secrets and the aftermath of Emma’s madness momentarily lifted. In the quiet hum of the car, with my sleeping sister--lover behind us and brother-figure beside me, we were just... kids. The kind of kids we were supposed to be.