Parker's new private garage wasn't just a place to park cars—it was a cathedral of wealth.
Arched ceilings soared overhead, lined with gold-trimmed chandeliers that cast a soft, celestial glow across the polished marble floors. The architecture felt almost palatial, a fusion of modern luxury and old-world grandeur, as if someone had taken a billionaire's penthouse and blended it with a European palace.
It looked like something straight out of a billionaire's fever dream—vast, dimly lit, and humming with the quiet presence of untouchable wealth. The polished concrete floor gleamed under sleek, recessed lighting, reflecting the curated lineup of absurdly expensive vehicles like a luxury showroom that didn't need an audience.
The walls? Dark steel and glass. Not just a storage space, but a statement—minimalist, intimidating, and effortlessly futuristic. No unnecessary clutter, no signs of life beyond the machines that sat there like gods waiting to be unleashed.
