A Walk in the Rain
The following afternoon brought a sudden change in weather over Oakridge City. Thick gray clouds gathered ominously, and by mid-day, a light drizzle blanketed the city streets. From his office, Sebastian Hart stood by the massive glass window, watching the rain cascade down in rhythmic streaks. He had spent the better part of the morning buried in meetings, and despite his usual discipline, his mind occasionally drifted to the woman who had unexpectedly brought him lunch the day before.
Downstairs in the mansion, Elena was reviewing files she had borrowed from the mansion's mini-library—business strategy books, etiquette manuals, and industry news articles. Her mind remained sharp, plotting her next moves, but a strange restlessness tugged at her. She needed fresh air, something simple to quiet her thoughts.
Moments later, she found herself in the mansion's entryway, slipping into a simple beige coat and lacing up a pair of ankle boots. The rain had lightened into a soft drizzle, and despite Mina's protests, Aria was determined.
"Madam, do you want me to call Oliver?" Mina asked nervously.
Elena shook her head with a soft smile. "No need. I'm just going for a short walk around the nearby park."
Mina was left gaping as Elena strode confidently out the front door, umbrella in hand.
---
The park was quiet under the gray sky, with only a few scattered figures walking briskly or jogging through the puddle-dotted pathways. The gentle drizzle smelled fresh, earthy, and calming. Elena walked slowly, savoring the simplicity of it all.
For years, life had been either constant survival or constant pretense. This moment, walking freely in the rain, was grounding—an anchor to herself.
She paused by a small lake, watching raindrops ripple across its surface. Lost in thought, she didn't hear the faint footsteps approaching until a deep voice called out behind her.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a rainwalker, Mrs. Hart."
Turning, Elena blinked in surprise to see Mason standing a few feet away, an umbrella in hand, impeccably dressed despite the weather.
"Mason? What brings you here?" she asked, half-smiling.
"I could ask the same," Mason replied, his expression polite but curious. "Mr. Hart asked me to drop off some documents at a nearby partner's office. I noticed you walking through the park from the road."
Elena chuckled lightly. "Sometimes, even we, the 'privileged wives,' need a little normalcy."
Mason's lips twitched. "Perhaps Mr. Hart underestimated you."
"Perhaps," Elena agreed, glancing back at the lake.
They stood quietly for a moment before Mason's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. "Mr. Hart just finished his last meeting. He'll be heading home shortly. Would you like a ride back?"
Elena considered, then nodded. "That would be nice."
---
An hour later, Sebastian walked into the mansion just as Elena arrived back, droplets of rain still clinging to her coat. Their eyes met in the grand hallway. Something flickered—amusement, curiosity, perhaps mild concern.
"Enjoying the rain?" Sebastian asked, loosening his tie.
"I was," Elena replied easily. "It's refreshing."
Sebastian nodded, surprised again by her simple honesty. "Dinner will be in an hour. I'd like you to join me." It wasn't a request, but it wasn't cold either.
Elena's smile was subtle but genuine. "I'd be happy to."
As she walked past him toward the stairs, Sebastian turned to watch her retreating figure, wondering again about the enigma that now lived under his roof. There was something different in the air—like the drizzle that washed away the grime and revealed the beauty beneath.
Perhaps, just perhaps, his life wasn't as predictable as he once thought.
_____________
ELSEWHERE
The neon lights of Club Seraph pulsed rhythmically in the heart of Oakridge's entertainment district, attracting the city's restless elite. The air inside was thick with music, chatter, and the sharp scent of expensive liquor. Hidden beneath the glamorous sheen was a different world—one where masks slipped, and true colors bled through the cracks.
Julia Moore sat in one of the transparent booths a crystal glass swirling between her manicured fingers. Her usually poised expression was relaxed, her cheeks flushed from too many cocktails. Around her, sycophantic friends giggled, whispering nonsense while Julia leaned far too close to a boisterous man with a gaudy gold watch and an obvious hunger for power.
The man was Derrick Klein, the youngest son of a nouveau riche logistics tycoon. His reputation was far from polished—aggressive in business, reckless in indulgence, and desperate to claw his way into old money circles. Tonight, he had Julia Moore wrapped around his arm, her once-frosty persona melting into flirtatious giggles and inappropriate touches.
In a shadowed corner of the club, Noah Hart watched silently, fingers tapping against his glass of aged whiskey. His presence was unnoticed, his seat purposely chosen to remain cloaked in the semi-darkness. He had come to unwind after a grueling family meeting, but instead found himself observing a far more interesting scene unfold.
Noah's eyes narrowed, recalling the public image Julia had always cultivated—prim, reserved, the picture of refined elegance. The perfect daughter of a successful businessman, the loyal sister, the upstanding young lady who attended charity galas and politely declined the advances of Oakridge's bachelor elite.
Yet here she was, tipsy and openly pawing at a man whose shirt buttons were carelessly undone, a crude laugh tumbling from his lips as Julia whispered something into his ear.
"Hypocrisy has a flavor," Noah muttered under his breath, swirling his whiskey idly. His younger years had taught him how quickly facades crumbled under the weight of freedom and alcohol. Julia Moore, it seemed, was no exception.
Noah signaled to the waiter, ordering another drink as his sharp gaze stayed pinned to the booth. His amusement grew when Julia stood up, swaying slightly in her high heels, tugging Derrick toward the club's VIP balcony. She didn't care who watched, her laughter loud and unrestrained.
"So much for the righteous little miss," Noah mused. Oakridge's social scene thrived on illusion, and Julia had always played her part well. But tonight, away from cameras and high society watchful eyes, she exposed herself as just another spoiled girl blinded by fleeting luxury.
"You should see this," Noah texted Mason absentmindedly, attaching a quick, blurry photo. It was harmless enough—Julia pressing a little too close, Derrick's hand low on her waist, the false charm in full display. Not incriminating, but enough to note.
Noah had no intention of interfering. He wasn't the morality police. But his gut told him Julia's web was woven thicker than anyone knew. He made a mental note to keep watching—people who played two faces were always useful pawns or dangerous enemies.
Moments later, Julia disappeared into the VIP balcony with Derrick, oblivious to the pair of calculating eyes that had witnessed her fall from grace.
Noah downed the last of his whiskey, leaning back in his seat with a quiet smirk.
"So, the perfect little Moore isn't so perfect after all," he murmured. "This just got interesting...I wonder what this Moore sister in law has to offer"