"He just—"
"Speed like that isn't normal!"
"Phase abilities AND speed?"
"The child could have been—"
"Patricia, you almost—"
"This proves nothing!"
"It proves," Marcus said quietly, and somehow his voice cut through everything, "that perhaps we should reassess our assumptions."
"Reassess?" Harrison spat. "This is clearly some elaborate—"
"I demand blood work!" Catherine stood. "Real-time genetic analysis! If he's truly awakened—"
"The blood work will show—" someone started.
"What? What will it show?" Melody's wings spread fully, crackling with power, she knew—of all people—that Jayden was real, Blood Work won't prove otherwise. "That somehow our family failure became our biggest asset overnight? That everything we've built, planned, prepared for means nothing because the cripple got lucky?"
"Lucky?" Jayden's voice dropped, the speedster hum making it resonate strangely. "Is that what you call it?"
"What else?" Derek, emboldened by numbers, stepped forward again. "Two weeks ago you were nothing. NOTHING. And now we're supposed to bow down because—"
"Because the sensors can't even read me properly?" Jayden suggested. "Because your blast felt like a warm breeze? Because I can move faster than Aunt Patricia can think?"
"ARROGANCE!" Patricia shrieked. "Just like your father! Think you're better than—"
"I don't think," Jayden said quietly. "I know. The question is: do you?"
The challenge hung in the air like ozone before a strike.
"Prove it," someone said. Jayden couldn't see who—too many faces twisted with doubt, fear, anger, calculation. "If you're really what the sensors suggest, prove it. Not party tricks. Real power."
"Define real," Jayden said.
"Combat trial," Harrison declared. "Family tradition. You want to claim a place here? Earn it."
"He just got here," Adrian protested. "You can't expect—"
"I expect," Harrison overrode him, "proof that this isn't Marcus's most expensive fraud yet."
The room split visibly. Adrian's supporters—mostly younger cousins who'd suffered under the established hierarchy—faced off against Melody's faction—those who'd spent years building their positions. In the middle, the undecided shifted nervously, waiting to see which way the wind would blow.
Or in this case, which way the lightning would strike.
"Well?" Harrison demanded. "What's it going to be, nephew? Ready to show us this supposed Apex Grade talent? Or would you prefer to admit—"
"I prefer," Jayden interrupted, electricity building around him until the air tasted purple, "to finish a meal first. I'm hungry, and Mother promised her famous Genesis lamb."
The anticlimax was deliberate. Calculated. Jayden had learned from the best—sometimes the power move was not moving at all.
Victoria's light pulsed with something that might have been pride. Or warning. With his mother, it was often both.
"A mealz" Marcus agreed, shadows coiling with amusement. "We can destroy each other after dessert. It's only civilized."
But civility was already dead. The room buzzed with unspoken threats, shifting alliances, and the kind of tension that preceded family massacres.
Jayden had been home less than five minutes.
It was already everything he'd expected.
And so much worse...
"This is about Singapore, isn't it?" Uncle Raymond's voice cut through the chaos like a rusty knife. "You lost that biotech merger to me fair and square, Marcus, and now you're using your cripple son to—"
"Fair and square?" Marcus's shadows writhed. "You mean when Harrison leaked my bid to you and won the Chens over?"
"That was never proven!"
"Because you and Harrison killed the servant who witnessed!"
"ALLEGEDLY killed the witness!"
"Oh for fuck's sake," Aunt Patricia snarled. "This isn't about your dick-measuring contest from whatever year. This is about the family bloodline being contaminated with lies!"
"Contaminated?" Victoria's light flared dangerously. "Like when your side of the family tried to claim my grandmother bought her powers? The Luminous Matriarch herself?"
"She DID buy them!" Patricia's mother, ancient Aunt Gertrude, wheezed from her hover-chair. "Everyone knows the Bright family trades in enhancement serums!"
"The shadow side's jealousy is showing," Clarissa said sweetly, moving to stand near Jayden. "Just because light powers dominate better at galas—"
"Dominate better?" Patricia's shadows spiked. "Shadows built this empire! Every hostile takeover, every eliminated competitor, every—"
"Every scandal that almost destroyed us," Victoria interrupted. "While my contracts brought legitimate business—"
"LEGITIMATE?" Three shadow-side cousins shouted at once.
"Remember when he couldn't even light a match?" Derek interjected, pointing at Jayden. "Seven years old and couldn't make a spark! Now we're supposed to believe—"
"I was SEVEN," Jayden said mildly.
"I was throwing fireballs at five!" someone yelled.
"Because you're a pyromaniac psychopath, Bradley, like Adrian!"
Meanwhile, the younger generation had phones out despite explicit orders. Cousin Sophia's livestream already had twelve thousand viewers.
"FAMILY DRAMA LIGHTNING PRINCE RETURNS 🔥⚡💀" scrolled across her screen.
"Sophie, put that fucking phone away!" her mother screeched.
"Make me! This is already trending!"
"Holy shit, is that really him?" Comments flooded in. "DADDY ENERGY 💦💦💦"
Melody grabbed the nearest phone. "Turn it OFF! This is private family—"
"Since when is anything private?" Cousin Jake laughed, still streaming. "Besides, look at the metrics! We're beating the Apex press conference numbers!"
That's when Rebecca's boyfriend, Trevor, made the mistake of the evening.
"I don't see what the big deal is," he said loudly. "So he got hot and has some powers. Rebecca's hotter and her ice abilities—"
Rebecca stared at Jayden, then at Trevor, then back at Jayden. "Actually, Trevor? We need to talk."
"What? Becca, what are you—"
"I think we should see other people." She didn't even look at him. "Starting now."
"You're dumping me? HERE? NOW? For HIM?"
"I mean..." Rebecca's cousin Amy piped up, also staring at Jayden. "Can you blame her?"
"He's her COUSIN!"
"THIRD cousin," Rebecca corrected. "Barely counts."
"It absolutely counts!" Melody shrieked. "And this is exactly why—"
"Why what?" Adrian challenged. "Why you're panicking? Because suddenly being the pretty one isn't enough?"
"I'M STILL THE PRETTY ONE!"
"Debatable," at least four cousins muttered.
The board members were losing their minds in the corner, phones pressed to ears:
"—halt all trading NOW—"
"—leaked livestreams affecting stock—"
"—Legal wants an emergency injunction—"
"—My portfolio is up 15%—wait, now down 8%—"
"Someone's insider trading!" Catherine accused, pointing at board member Jerome. "You bought calls this morning!"
"Everyone bought calls this morning!" Jerome shot back. "We all knew something was happening!"
"I bought puts," someone admitted. "Figured it was bad news."
"You bet AGAINST the family?"
"It's called hedging!"
Uncle Harrison slammed his fist on a priceless table, cracking it. "ENOUGH! I am the senior combat specialist here! I say—"
"You're Level 89," Cousin Michael interrupted. "Diana's Level 91."
"SINCE WHEN?"
"Since last month. Didn't you get the memo?"
"There are MEMOS about power levels?"
"There's a whole spreadsheet," young Timmy said helpfully. "Daddy updates it every week."
"A SPREADSHEET?"
"How else do we track succession rankings?" Timmy's father defended. "It's color-coded and everything!"
"But I'M the strongest cousin!" Derek insisted, electricity crackling around his fists.
"Were," Jake corrected, still streaming. "Chat says Rebecca and Amy's auras are reading way higher."
"Chat doesn't know shit!"
"Chat knows everything. They're already shipping them with—"
"DO NOT finish that sentence!"
Meanwhile, three servants had chosen sides. Maria "accidentally" spilled wine on Patricia's shoes while refilling Jayden's glass. Robert made sure Harrison's steak was extra rare—practically still mooing. The butler, Stevens, maintained aggressive neutrality by standing exactly equidistant from all family members.
That's when Aunt Margaret's pyrokinesis went haywire from stress, setting the curtains on fire.
"MARGARET!"
"I CAN'T HELP IT! THE ANXIETY!"
Adrian put out the fire while rolling his eyes. "Amateur."
"We're not all perfect control freaks!" Margaret sobbed, setting a different curtain ablaze.
In the chaos, little Emma—someone's eight-year-old—tugged on Jayden's armor.
"Why did everyone call you cripple?" she asked with a child's brutal honesty.
The room didn't go silent—it was too chaotic for that—but enough people heard to create pockets of awkwardness.
"Because I couldn't do this," Jayden said simply, creating a small lightning butterfly in his palm. It fluttered around Emma's head, making her giggle.
"That's stupid," Emma declared. "You're not a cripple. You're pretty."
"Emma!" her mother gasped. "We don't say—"
"What? He is! Prettier than Melody!"
"I HEARD THAT YOU LITTLE—"
"MELODY!" Victoria's light flashed warning. "She's eight!"
"Out of the mouths of babes," Clarissa murmured, smirking at Patricia.
"At least our side doesn't produce defects!" Patricia snarled back.
"Defects?" Jayden's voice cut through. "Is that what I am?"
"You WERE!"
"And now?"
Patricia opened her mouth, then closed it. Because what he was now was radiating enough barely controlled power to make everyone's teeth ache.
"That's what I thought," Jayden said mildly.
Marcus watched it all with the satisfaction of a man whose investment had exceeded all projections. Victoria looked torn between tears and homicide. Adrian was taking mental notes on who to trust. Melody was calculating murder methods.
And Jayden? Jayden stood in the center of the hurricane he'd created just by existing, lightning playing between his fingers as he watched seventeen years of family dynamics explode in real-time.
"So," he said as Margaret set a third curtain on fire and Rebecca physically fought Amy for who got to stand closer to him, "when's my welcome meal?"
The question was so mundane in the midst of chaos that it actually made things worse.
"DINNER?" Harrison roared. "You want DINNER while the family tears itself apart?"
"I mean," Jayden shrugged, "I was promised Genesis lamb. Seems rude to let it get cold."
Somewhere, a butler fainted. Stevens maintained his position through sheer will.
Welcome home, indeed.