The City Plaza Project was hailed as a resounding success, bringing a new wave of praise and recognition to Crownspire Horizon. Arnold's name became synonymous with excellence in urban development. The Blake family's tarnished legacy was all but forgotten, replaced by Arnold's achievements.
Arnold, however, didn't rest on his laurels. His combat training continued rigorously under Robert Blackwood's guidance. Weeks of boxing and taekwondo had sharpened his reflexes and precision. He could now deliver blows with devastating force and confidence. Running 10 kilometres daily with weighted vests had pushed his stamina to impressive levels.
Despite the flurry of work and progress, life found a way to remind Arnold of its other priorities.
One afternoon, his phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed a familiar name: Eleanor Sinclair.
"Mother," Arnold answered warmly, a rare softness in his tone.
"Arnold," Eleanor said, her voice carrying a playful edge. "It's been ten months since you've been home. Have you forgotten about your parents entirely?"
Arnold winced. "I'm sorry, Mother. Things have been… busy."
"Too busy for us?" she teased, though a hint of real disappointment lingered beneath her words. "I know you're building an empire, but you could at least spare a weekend."
"I know, I know," Arnold said, guilt creeping into his voice. "I'll visit next weekend, I promise."
"You better," she replied, a smile evident in her tone. "Your father and I miss you."
As the call ended, Arnold leaned back in his chair, contemplating his mother's words. A part of him felt guilty for losing touch with his roots amidst the whirlwind of business. He decided to bring something special for his parents—a gift that would show his appreciation.
But what could he possibly give to a family that already had everything?
He mulled it over for hours, dismissing one idea after another. His parents didn't care for lavish material goods, and they were far from ordinary in their tastes. Finally, he recalled something he had come across during one of his meetings: a jade statue of a deer.
The statue was said to emit an aura of vitality, good health, and peace—qualities that resonated with his parents' elegant and serene lifestyle. It was perfect.
The following Saturday, as the first rays of sunlight broke over the city, Arnold slipped behind the wheel of his car. He left Luna in charge of overseeing Lumé's operations and the City Plaza, confident in her ability to manage everything in his absence.
The drive to the Sinclair family estate took just over an hour, the car gliding effortlessly through winding country roads lined with tall trees. Arnold found the journey oddly soothing, a chance to disconnect from the endless demands of his growing empire.
As the towering gates of the estate came into view, Arnold felt a pang of nostalgia. The sprawling property, with its manicured gardens and palace-like mansion, was a symbol of the Sinclair family's legacy—a legacy he now carried forward.
Arnold parked his car and stepped into the grand entrance of the estate. Inside, the air was filled with the familiar aroma of freshly baked cookies—a scent that instantly transported him back to his childhood.
In the living room, Victor Sinclair sat in a leather armchair, engrossed in a book titled The Psychology of Human Behavior. His father was a man of insatiable curiosity, with a library that spanned subjects ranging from finance and sales to self-improvement and philosophy.
"Father," Arnold greeted, his tone warm but respectful.
Victor looked up, his sharp gray eyes lighting with approval. "Arnold. It's good to see you."
Arnold smiled. "Still expanding your knowledge, I see."
Victor closed the book and gestured to the chair opposite him. "A man must never stop learning, my son. How's the City Plaza Project? The state is singing your praises."
"Progressing well," Arnold replied as he took the seat. "But it's good to step away for a while."
Before the conversation could continue, a cheerful voice called out from the adjacent open kitchen.
"Arnold!"
His mother, Eleanor, appeared, carrying a plate of freshly baked cookies. She wore a soft apron over her casual outfit, her elegance undiminished even in her relaxed state.
Arnold stood and hugged her tightly. "Mother, these are my favorite. You remembered."
"Of course I did," she replied, smiling warmly. "How could I forget? Now, come sit. You've been starving yourself with all that work, haven't you?"
"Not exactly," Arnold said, laughing.
As they sat down together, Arnold presented the jade deer statue. It was intricately carved, its glossy surface capturing the light beautifully.
"For you," Arnold said, placing it on the table.
Eleanor's eyes widened with delight. "Arnold, it's beautiful."
Victor leaned in to examine the statue. "Jade deer. It's said to bring health and vitality. Thoughtful and meaningful—well done, son."
Eleanor smiled, her eyes soft with emotion. "You always know how to make us happy, Arnold."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of warmth and nostalgia.
Arnold spent time in the garden with his father, who spoke passionately about his love for plants. Victor explained the intricacies of cultivating roses and orchids, his hands deftly pruning and watering as he spoke.
Later, Eleanor took Arnold to the music room, where her grand piano stood gleaming. She played a soft, soothing melody, her fingers dancing gracefully across the keys.
"You've improved," Arnold remarked.
"I try to practice daily," Eleanor replied. "It keeps the mind sharp."
They wandered through the mansion, stopping to admire the family portraits that adorned the walls. Each painting and sketch had been done by Eleanor herself, capturing the family's history in strokes of color and light.
"Your mother's talents never cease to amaze me," Victor said, his voice tinged with pride.
"Neither do yours," Arnold replied, glancing at the bookshelves filled with Victor's carefully curated collection.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the family gathered for dinner. The meal was a feast of Eleanor's finest cooking, from delicate appetizers to hearty mains. They laughed and reminisced, sharing stories from Arnold's childhood and their own experiences.
For Arnold, it was a rare and cherished moment of peace.
As Arnold prepared to leave the estate the next morning, Eleanor walked him to the car.
"Arnold," she said, placing a hand on his arm, "you've made us so proud. But don't forget to take care of yourself. The world may see you as a powerful businessman, but to us, you'll always be our son."
Arnold nodded, his voice quiet. "Thank you, Mother. I'll visit more often."
Victor joined them at the driveway, his expression stern but kind. "Remember, Arnold, balance is key. Success is meaningless if you lose sight of the things that matter most."
Arnold embraced both his parents before stepping into the car. As he drove away, he glanced at the estate in the rearview mirror, a renewed sense of purpose filling him.
The world outside demanded much of him, but visits like this reminded Arnold of why he worked so hard—to honor his family, their values, and the legacy they had built together.