My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible - Chapter 201

Chapter 201: Meeting At The White House
Washington D.C. — Joint Base Andrews

A low thunder rolled across the overcast sky as The Black Titan descended through the clouds, its vast wings slicing through the gray.

The control tower fell silent as the all-black A380 broke formation with the morning traffic pattern. There was no airline marking or transponder ID beyond the temporary diplomatic code assigned by the White House itself.

On the tarmac, a convoy of black Suburbans waited in a neat line beside the reception hangar. The flags on their hoods barely stirred in the damp air.

The entire section of the runway had been cleared. No media, auxiliary personnel or even stray maintenance crew. Only Secret Service, Air Force security, and a few members of the Office of Protocol.

Inside the tower, one of the air controllers exhaled inwardly in shock, as the landing gear locked into place.

“Touchdown confirmed. Runway two-two left. Clearance code Alpha-Nine-Zero,” she reported.

The enormous aircraft touched down with a muted roar, the wheels spitting mist as it slowed. The sheer size of it dwarfed everything else on the tarmac. Even the military jets parked nearby looked like toys beside its smooth, black frame.

It rolled to a stop near the hangar, engines humming down to silence. For a moment, no one moved.

Then the front door opened.

A staircase extended itself seamlessly, unfolding like liquid metal. The Secret Service detail stiffened; even they weren’t sure whether it was automated or manned.

Liam appeared a few seconds later, as he calmly stepped into the damp morning air. Nick stayed behind with the flight crew, but Mason followed two steps behind Liam, his expression neutral, as he scanned the perimeters efficiently.

A man in a gray coat — Deputy Chief of Protocol — stepped forward and bowed his head slightly.

“Mr. Scott, welcome to Washington. I’m Anthony Reese. The White House sends its regards.”

Liam nodded politely. “Thank you.”

“Your escort is ready. If you’ll follow me, we’ll depart immediately.”

Liam descended the rest of the steps without hurry. The Secret Service agents shifted subtly around him, unsure whether to treat him as a guest or an anomaly.

Daniel’s warning about behavioral analysts lingered in his mind, but Liam didn’t need to adjust anything. His World-Class Etiquette skill was taking care of everything.

Inside the convoy, Mason took the front seat. Liam settled into the back of the lead vehicle as it pulled away from the hangar, the engines of the Suburbans rumbling in perfect rhythm. Two escort motorcycles joined the formation as they left the base and entered the secured route toward downtown Washington.

Outside, the gray skyline of the capital unfolded — monuments rising through the fog like pale sentinels. The Potomac glimmered faintly beneath the morning light.

Inside the vehicle, silence reigned.

The Deputy Chief of Protocol spoke after a while, breaking it.

“You’ll be meeting with the National Security delegation first, Mr. Scott. The President may join later.”

Liam nodded once. “I understand.”

“On behalf of the administration, allow me to say — your aircraft is… extraordinary. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Few have,” Liam replied mildly.

The man chuckled awkwardly, “Indeed.”

They continued in silence until the convoy crossed into the White House perimeter. The gates opened without pause. Security personnel stood in crisp formation, watching as the vehicles glided through.

The motorcade stopped in the inner courtyard. Rain began to fall again in a soft and steady downpour.

An aide hurried forward with an umbrella, but Liam waved it off gently.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s only water.”

The aide hesitated, then stepped back as Liam walked across the wet pavement, Mason a pace behind him. The droplets darkened his suit but he moved as if it didn’t matter.

Inside, from behind the glass doors of the West Wing, several senior staffers watched his approach in silence.

“He’s taller than I expected,” one whispered.

“Don’t talk,” another hissed. “They’re recording everything.”

The doors opened.

***

The Roosevelt Room — White House.

The door closed softly behind Liam as he stepped inside.

The air was cool, the lighting measured. A long table stretched across the room, polished to a mirror finish. Folders, glasses of water, and discreet nameplates marked the seats of those already waiting.

At the far end sat the Chief of Staff, flanked by the National Security Advisor, Director of National Intelligence, Secretary of Treasury, and two men from the Office of Science and Technology Policy.

Every face wore a neutral, carefully practiced expression — the look of people who’d rehearsed this moment more than once.

“Mr. Scott,” the Chief of Staff said as he stood. “Welcome, and thank you for making the trip.”

Liam inclined his head politely. “Thank you for the invitation.”

The Chief gestured to the empty seat opposite. “Please, have a seat.”

Liam calmly took his seat. Mason positioned himself silently by the door, hands clasped behind his back.

A faint hum from the ceiling filled the silence — the kind that came from active signal jammers. Liam noticed it immediately but it didn’t bother him, because even with the jammers active, he had just talked to Lucy and she replied.

The Chief of Staff began. “We’ll keep this brief. This meeting isn’t formal, it isn’t recorded, and it isn’t political. We simply want to know a little more about the man who’s managed to… capture the world’s attention.”

His tone was smooth, but the undertone was obvious: who are you, and why can’t we define you?

“Attention is rarely something I ask for. It tends to follow uninvited,” Liam smiled faintly.

A few polite smiles flickered around the table. The DNI leaned forward slightly. “And yet you seem comfortable in it.”

“I’ve learned that discomfort doesn’t change the spotlight,” Liam said calmly. “If it’s there, I let it pass over and move on.”

The NSA Advisor tapped his pen. “So you’re a private citizen, yes? No public company, no political interests?”

“That’s correct,” Liam said.

“Then, forgive me for asking,” the Advisor continued, “how does someone like you—”

He stopped himself, adjusting his words.

“—how does someone maintain such… discretion, in this age of exposure?”

Liam met his gaze evenly. “By having nothing to hide.”

That earned a pause, as everyone in the room weren’t sure whether to believe him or fear him for it.

The Treasury Secretary interjected next, his voice light but measured. “Your financial footprint, Mr. Scott, is—well, unconventional. Few can operate at your scale without institutional noise. How do you manage that?”

“With diligence,” Liam replied. “And competent advisors.”

The Chief of Staff folded his hands. “Advisors like Daniel Conley?”

Liam nodded. “He handles structure. I handle direction.”

The Chief gave a small nod. “Understood.”

There was another pause.

The DNI spoke next, with a neutral tone. “Mr. Scott, there’s curiosity — and concern — about how rapidly your name has risen. Your assets, your influence… they appeared almost overnight. Some are calling you the most elusive man in the modern economy. How do you respond to that?”

Liam gave a small smile when he heard that and he replied, “People see what they’re shown. If they only noticed me recently, it means I was doing something right before.”

“Would you say your work involves technology?” one of the OSTP officials asked carefully.

Liam glanced at him, his tone mild. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Then what would you call it?”

“Effort,” Liam said simply.

The official nodded slowly, realizing he wasn’t going to get more than that.

The Chief of Staff leaned back slightly, studying him. “You’ve become an enigma, Mr. Scott. To some, that’s fascinating. To others, unsettling.”

“I’d say both are sides of the same coin,” Liam said. “It depends on who’s holding it.”

The NSA Advisor cracked a faint smile at that, though his eyes stayed sharp. “And which side are we holding?”

“I suppose that depends on whether you see me as competition or contribution,” Liam replied smoothly.

That earned a small murmur. It was the kind that passed between people trying to decide whether they’d just been outplayed.

The Chief of Staff broke it gently. “We don’t see you as competition, Mr. Scott. We see potential for partnership.”

Liam’s expression didn’t change. “Partnership is built on trust. And trust takes time.”

“Agreed,” the Chief said. “That’s why we wanted this meeting. To begin… understanding each other.”

Liam leaned back slightly, unbothered. “Then I’m here to listen.”

For the next several minutes, the questions grew subtler — about his values, his motivations, his long-term plans. Nothing direct, nothing openly confrontational. They wanted a psychological map, not a confession.

“What drives you, Mr. Scott?” the DNI asked finally. “You have wealth most people can’t imagine, and yet you avoid publicity, power, and politics. What’s the purpose?”

Liam thought for a moment before answering. “Stability. I build things that last.”

The Treasury Secretary studied him. “And what does lasting mean to you?”

Liam looked at him evenly. “It means not depending on anyone else to define it.”

Silence followed again.

That answer — simple as it was — struck exactly the chord Daniel had predicted: they couldn’t tell if it was humility or veiled power.

After a long pause, the Chief of Staff closed his folder. “Mr. Scott, we appreciate your candor. You’ve given us much to consider.”

Liam stood with the same calm he’d entered with. “I hope this was useful.”

“It was,” the Chief said. “If we may ask — will you remain in the country for long?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Liam replied.

“Wherever you go,” the Chief said carefully, “I hope you’ll remember that this country has been good to you.”

Liam’s smile was faint, unreadable. “I always remember what’s worth remembering.”

The Chief inclined his head slightly — unsure whether that was reassurance or a warning.

Liam extended a polite handshake to each of them in turn. “Gentlemen, thank you for your time.”

As he turned to leave, the DNI called out softly, “Mr. Scott—just one more question, if I may.”

Liam paused and listened.

“What is it you really want?”

Liam looked over his shoulder. His voice was calm and absolute, as he spoke, “To build something that outlives questions.”

The DNI said nothing as Liam and Mason exited the room.

***

West Wing Hallway.

Outside, the Chief of Staff exhaled and leaned against the table. “Well?”

The DNI shook his head slowly. “He told us nothing.”

The National Security Advisor muttered, “No — he told us everything. We just don’t understand the language yet.”