The sun glittered on the sea in tiny golden coins, reflected in the windows of the giant yacht gliding along the Hamptons coast. Sophie floated among the guests, smile carefully in place, pale dress making her feel like she was walking on glass about to crack. Next to her, the imposing Alex Grant—the host—looked every bit the flawless CEO: silver-streaked hair, sharp features, gray eyes that seemed to look right through people without actually touching them. Sophie was honestly surprised by how attractive he was, so different from her usual clients (typically older men, not this well-kept).
Yet, despite all the beauty and polish, there was something broken in Alex Grant's movements, a heaviness in his eyes and gestures, like his body was at odds with his social role.
Soft music drifted through the air, glasses clinking, waves slapping against the hull. Sophie watched Alex refill his glass, his grip steady on the outside but tense underneath as they walked along the yacht's bow. The jazz and laughter from inside spilled over them.
"You know, no one here's ever asked how I actually feel… All these people sucking up to me, none of them really care what's going on with me," he said suddenly, staring out at the horizon as the wind tossed his salt-and-pepper hair. "I should be happy. I had it all—a successful business, a family, this self-made-man life they sell you."
He laughed, but the sound faded fast. He went on:
"Then I found out it was all a lie. The son I raised for 22 years isn't even mine… Turns out I'm infertile. My wife lied to me all this time."
Sophie drew in a breath, torn between sympathy and professional distance.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Grant."
"Please, just Alex. I don't feel like a 'mister' anymore, not after all this." He downed his drink in one gulp. "I only hired you to make my wife jealous, Sophie. Not proud of that… Kind of pathetic, huh? I used to love her, right up until I found out…"
Silence settled between them, thick and awkward, as the yacht rocked gently with the jazz and the late afternoon wind. The waves parted at the bow, and for a second Sophie understood what money really meant. Being rich really is something. She hesitated, seeing how devastated Alex looked, how hard he was trying to keep it together.
"Sometimes we do things like that when we don't see a way out," she offered, voice gentle, trying to give him something to hold onto. "I've done… let's say… impulsive things myself."
Alex gave her a tired half-smile. His glass slipped from his hand, clattering to the deck.
"I really don't see the point in anything anymore, Sophie."
She started to reply, but Alex was already backing away, long, shaky steps toward the railing. For a split second, everything froze: the laughter inside, the ocean's roar, a few distracted guests turning to look.
Then, without warning, he climbed the rail and, without a second's hesitation, hurled himself into the sea.