Mirror Crown
The air felt heavier now. The tension between Xavier and the officer was so thick you could slice it with a blade. As Xavier stood tall outside the C1, the flashing blue and red lights reflecting off the mirror-polished hood of the rare car, he adjusted his jacket and turned to the officer with a new tone in his voice—measured, calm, but undeniably authoritative.
"You can't expect me to just follow you to the station like some random street boy," Xavier said coolly, his eyes locked on the officer. "You have no idea who you're speaking to."
The officer, taken aback by the sudden shift, squinted at him. "Sir, don't test me. I've let this go too easy already. You're acting real suspicious—"
Xavier raised his hand, cutting the officer off mid-sentence. "You want ID? Fine." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek black phone, and dialed with confidence. "Amelia," he said into the phone. "Bring my ID. Now. Location pin sent. Don't waste a second."
He hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket as if that settled everything.
"I give you five minutes," Xavier said, now turning fully to the officer, who looked both irritated and unsettled. "Five minutes, and you'll have what you need. I don't go anywhere unless I choose to. If I move, it's by command, not fear. You understand?"
The officer's jaw tightened. "You rich kids always think the rules don't apply to you."
Xavier tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "No, officer. I know the rules. I just make sure I own the game board."
The officer huffed, clearly holding himself back. "You better hope that ID checks out, because if this is some kind of stunt—"
"You'll regret it," Xavier said, not flinching. "You'll regret stopping me. You'll regret this entire encounter. I'm being kind right now. But keep pushing, and you'll find out what the Classic name means in this city."
There was silence.
Tasha, still seated in the passenger seat, had rolled the window down halfway and was watching Xavier like she was seeing a completely different person. This wasn't the quiet, awkward guy fumbling through conversations and ducking attention. This was a man stepping into something else entirely—something… commanding.
And then the sound of tires screeching slightly to a halt interrupted the standoff. A black SUV pulled up right behind them. A sharply dressed woman in a navy-blue suit stepped out holding a silver case and a sleek folder.
"Mr. Classic," she said, striding toward them with grace and speed. "Your ID."
Xavier took the folder, opened it, and handed the officer the documentation. The man scanned through it, his brows tightening as he saw the official seals, the validation, and the impossible truth staring back at him.
Christian. Classic. Everything matched.
"Have a nice evening, officer," Xavier said, his voice laced with steel.
The officer hesitated, then gave a half-hearted nod. "Drive safe, sir."
He returned to his cruiser without another word.
Xavier walked back to the driver's side, opened the door, and slid into the seat like nothing had happened. He looked over at Tasha, who was staring at him wide-eyed.
"Who… are you really?" she whispered.
Xavier smirked, gripped the wheel, and revved the engine.
"I'm whoever I decide to be."
The car peeled off into the night, the legend of the boy who wore a crown not his own growing louder with every mile.